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cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months

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katsuki bakugou hates a lot of things

he hates people who walk slow, he hates people who chew loudly or people who talk loud in places they know damn well they shouldn’t.

he hates when people walk on the back of his shoe and he hates idiots like kaminari who talk during movies.

but most of all, katsuki bakugou hates seeing you cry.

it sparks something in him, something red, hot and so angry when he finds you in your dorm. tears running down your cheeks that show no sign of stopping. he hates it even more when you make eye contact and you curl into yourself even more from where you’re sitting on the floor.

katsuki immediately decides this is the thing he hates the most.

he’s on you in seconds, kneeling in front of you, searching around to get a peek of your face hidden in your knees. he places his hands on top of yours where they’re wrapped around your legs and his chest tightens when you flinch a little.

“ who was it ? who did this to you ?” he can’t recognize his own voice, his words come out so fast he barely registers what he’s saying.

you try to speak but nothing but more broken sobs and shaky breaths come out as you desperately try to catch your breath and katsuki realizes that you talking isn’t a priority right now.

his eyebrows are furrowed and he almost looks angry but he’s so, so worried. if anything, he’s angry at himself for being so helpless, for not being able to help you in a time where you clearly need it.

he grabs your shoulder softly and the weight his chest lightens slightly when you lean a little closer to him, before letting him pull you tightly into his arms

“breathe for me.” he utters softly, voice gruff and gravelly. he never actually talks this softly unless he’s around you, the difference is so stark it surprises him a little bit but he’s got more important things to think about. praise spills from him occasionally, muttering a “you got it. i got you” into your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

katsuki’s never really had to comfort anyone, he’s never felt the need to, but you’re not just anyone. your different, you’re his. his love his everything and he’ll be damned if he didn’t try his hardest for you.

you’ve calmed down a little bit, he noticed. you’re breathings calmed down a little and your sobs have been reduced to snivels. the tightness in his lungs is still there, but it’s less now.

“what’s goin’ on with you, hm ?” you’re grip tightens on his arm and you shove your head deeper into his chest. he moves his head away from your shoulder so he can place two small kisses on the top of your head

“talk to me, baby. needa know what’s up with you.” he pleads into the crown of your head. you sigh before speaking up.

“ i don’t know what’s up with me i just- it’s nothing bad i’m—” you’re desperately searching for the right words to use so what you’re about to say makes sense. “i just don’t—feel like myself today. i don’t know why, i just feel really bad today.” you let out a humorless chuckle and your voice dies out when you finish “m’sorry if i worried you” you sniffle.

he shushes you, his grip on you tightens when he hears you whimper “don’t..don’t fuckin’ apologize to me, got no reason to.” he spits. he sounds angry, and he is, why should you ever feel the need to apologize for feeling some type of way around him ?

“s’okay for you to feel that way..i do too, sometimes, you know ?” he knows you do. he knows you do because there are times where he comes to your room in tears, shaking and panicked. completely and utterly lost from the nightmares that had plagued him minutes before but knowing he had to come see you. you were there for him every time, gently soothing him and assuring him that he’d be okay. he owed it to you to do the same for you.

“s’okay to feel like shit sometimes, happens to the best of us.” he whispers “ but you can always come to me when you do, can deal with it together. an’ don’t go thinkin’ yer ‘bothering’ me either.” he says, parroting what you had just told him. “we’re together for a reason, dummy.” he’s soft spoken and his voice is so mellow despite his harsh little nickname for you, you could’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting so close to you, it makes you a little dizzy and a little weaker in you’re already mushy knees.

he grabs your shoulders gently to get your eyes on him. they’re still a little glossy but they’re a little less dull when he looks at you “ we’re in this together, always have been, always will be, got it ? “ he asserts, waiting for your response. and then you smile at him, it’s faint but it’s there and katsuki feels like he can breathe again. he smiles back softly at you when you respond with a soft “okay.”

you suddenly grab onto him and pull him into you tightly, locking him in a tight embrace and squeezing like you’re pressing a lemon. it throws him off for a second before he’s squeezing you just as hard, pressing your body against his.

“thank you, katsuki. you’re the best” you hum. he presses a long lingering kiss to your temple as response, before squeezing around your waist “ course i am.” he gloats. the smirk on his lips grows when you snort in response “what’re you laughing about, hah? don’t think so? don’t think i’m the best ?” he jests, using this as an opportunity to tickle you mercilessly. you kick and squirm but it’s no use, katsuki doesn’t stop until you’re a heaving , giggling mess. tears in your eyes as you plead and beg for him to stop but he doesn’t let up even when you’re laying on the ground with him on top of you.

“ i ain’t hearing what i wanna hear, you know what i want from you, baby.” he chuckles at the way you desperately gasp for breath, choking on your own spit in the process.

“y-you’re the ! the best, ‘suki ! the b-bestest of the best !” you gasp out, pushing blindly at his face to get him away from you and he finally let’s you go. “felt nice enough to let you off with a warning, won’t end well for ya if you try me again.” is what he says, playfully warning you and waving his finger around in your face. you’re completely out of breath, there are tears in your eyes again but they’re happy tears this time and you still can’t stop smiling and giggling as you try to bite at his finger and katsuki is more than happy with this.

because katsuki’s favorite thing is your smile.

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deerspherestudios · 2 months

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Saying "I accidentally killed Michael" sounds so bad but you have to believe me. I still feel bad about that, do you think that if the player had acted quickly enough and treated Michael's wound, he would have been saved? Thinking about making a little fic about that, are you okay with that? It would be just a small way of my apology to the boy

I'm no expert on wounds, fatal or otherwise, but I feel like even if you were to pull the needles out and try to save him he'd still be in critical condition? 🤔

Thank god it's fiction though so by the powers that be if MC wants to save him then so be it:

It'd probably end up something like this though.

#mushroom oasis vn #mychael ask #doodles #something about making such a dire mistake u cant reverse no matter what u tried is so wonderfully tragic though </3 #but if u wanna make a comfort fic abt saving him then by all means!!

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fandomrose · 2 months

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Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as someone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know?#the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out.#if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you #they could never make me hate you sunday #i love him even more after 2.2

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s0fter-sin · 11 days

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the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

#cw self harm #self harm #guess who’s still on a brainwashed!soap kick!#the ending of wall-e but make it ghoap #you know when walle resets & eve brings all of his stuff he showed her at the beginning of the movie and its the song that brought him back?#fun fact i dont actually like callbacks all that much #i think they can be cheesy and kind of shoehorned #and unless its done a decent amount of time after the initial thing it can feel rushed and inauthentic #but im all over them when it comes to amnesia aus #its the ‘im with you til the end of the line’ effect #but the reversal of ghost finding so much comfort and safety in his mask #being confronted by soap whos been forced into one against his will to strip him of his autonomy and humanity #it makes me froth at the mouth i swear #muzzles in general make me feral #i am not immune to the dog analogies #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod fic

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seventh-district · 9 months

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Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love)#y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms)#or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both)#anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it!#i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter)#(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

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sleeplessdreamer14 · 1 year

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quiet night, apocalypse

request: no

fandom: treasure planet (2002)

relationship: jim hawkins x gn! reader

summary: Jim comes to you in the late hours of the night in search of the safety of your embrace.

contains: anxiety comfort, reverse comfort, sleeping in the same bed, profoundness, some use of artistic license, a bit poetic at the end

a/n: I love that I can just write these whenever I want

It was half past 2 am, and Jim was still awake.

He’d gone to bed hours ago, but found himself unable to fall asleep. Even with his window open, the night was still a bit too quiet. It’s wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. He was rather exhausted, in fact. But his mind just wouldn’t stop running.

There wasn’t even one particular thing he was thinking of, just the lingering feeling that something bad was going to happen, whether it be in the near or distant future; a fear that had a nasty habit of plaguing him in the latest hours of the night when he was left alone with his thoughts. After hours of trying to drift off to sleep, Jim couldn’t take it anymore and pulled the covers off of himself, climbing out of bed and carefully treading out of his room, keeping one arm extended outwards to feel for the door since his eyes had not yet adjusted properly to the darkness.

He was careful to close the door slowly behind himself, turning the knob as to make as little noise as possible. Jim kept one hand against the wall as he walked down the hallway, his eyes gradually adjusting to his surroundings with the help of the moonlight shining through the window.

Finally, he came to the door to your room. As he reached for the doorknob, he froze in his spot and began to reconsider. It was so late and chances were you were probably fast asleep by now, and he already felt bad for wanting to wake you. But then he remembered your words from a while back, reminding him that he could wake you if he needed you. And right now, he did. Plus, he knew you would feel bad if he lost any more sleep because he decided to try and dealing with his anxiety alone.

With the same precision as before, he carefully turned the knob to your bedroom door and tip-toed in to see you lying fast asleep, kinda sprawled out along your bed, your lips parted slightly.

You had left your curtains open, allowing the silvery light of the moon to shine into your room and into your bed. He could see your back and shoulders rise and fall steadily with every breath you took.

Now he felt really bad for what he was about to do.

Jim proceeded with caution towards the vacant side of your bed and gently lifted the covers so he could slide into the spot next to you. As he expected, you must have felt the mattress dip as he climbed into your bed, causing you to stir in your sleep. A meek groan sounded from you as you stretched and rubbed your eyes, peeking one eye open to see your boyfriend timidly positioned on your bed next to you.

Once you registered the situation, you rubbed your face and propped yourself up on your elbows. With a sniffle, you asked if he was okay and what time it was in a hushed tone, your voice a little groggy from going hours without using it.

Jim took a breath in to respond, but came up empty, unsure as to how to explain why he was in your room at 2:30-something in the morning. He muttered shy apologies for waking you and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between you and the window as he stumbled over his words.

This wasn’t the first time Jim had come to you like this, and he knew you wouldn’t sling off at him for it, of course, but he was still a bit sheepish. Coming up empty, he merely let out a slow puff of air through his nose and let his shoulders slump in defeat as he stared at his lap.

That on its own answered the first half of your question, and your expression shifted into one of sympathy as you sat up in your spot on the bed, lazily opening your arms as an invitation to come to you.

Jim quietly accepted, scooting closer to you so he could comfortably fit into your arms. You shifted around slightly just to ensure your legs wouldn’t get sore as you slowly rubbed gentle circles over his back. After the first couple of times, you had grown familiar with what to do in this scenario. You pulled away gently and reached over to open the covers further, patting the spot on the mattress next to you.

Moments later, you were lying on your sides facing each other beneath your comforter, your legs loosely entangled. Jim had rested his head on your chest with his arms wrapped around your middle while you had one arm draped over his shoulder while the other gently stroked his head.

“You’re okay,” you spoke in a hushed voice, taking your time with your words and tightening your hold on him ever so slightly, and he did the same. “It’s alright now… Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Jim felt his eyelids begin to fall closed as he left his mind start to shut down, allowing him to only put whatever energy he had left into breathing. There was no fire, no storm, no disaster, there was only you, with him, in this room. Tonight, you were his, and he was yours. And so it would be come morning, and for as long as you two wished. It took a while, but eventually, your sweet nothings began to fade out as he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

And at last, the night was truly quiet.

#jim hawkins x reader #treasure planet x reader #disney x reader #reverse comfort #comfort fic #treasure planet #reader insert #my stuff #my writing #jim hawkins #drabble #drabbles #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr

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snaililita · 9 months

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Holding Lyney close as soft sobs shake his chest, combing your fingers through his hair. His hat had long since been cast aside and the braid that used to be done so neatly was no where to be seen. The blonde traveller long since stormed out and Lynette took a moment to breathe. The poor man simply broke. He could only keep up his charade for so long.

Craddling him in your arms as his tears stained your clothes, not that you minded. He had been through so much in the past few days and even a skilled actor like him needs a moment to let out their stress.

Whisper to him that you won't leave him and his sister regardless of who they have ties to. Tell him that you love him and he is still the same man that gives you rainbow roses every day, the same man that is so kind and polite to you, the same man that accepted you into his family when you were alone, and that this isn't going to change anything between the two of you.

He only cries and cries, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as if he is afraid you would run if he let go. You brush the hair away from his forehead and place a soft kiss on it, and then another, and another, until you're fairly sure you've completely littered it with small pecks.

He cries himself to sleep in your arms, his make up his smudged and a mess yet he is still beautiful to you. You take his corset off of him and then his small cape, lastly his boots come off. He should be much more comfortable now and rest better.

You find yourself beginning to doze off in the couch you sat yourselves in previously. Draping his cape over the two of you, you close your eyes and join him in a much needed slumber.

#adelita writes #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #lyney #lyney comfort #reverse comfort #very angry about everyone being so mean towards lyney and lynette in game #and all of you angst fic writers #don't think I don't see you #be nice to lyney he is just a baby #lynette too

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gojosatoru-supremacy · 6 months

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Gift Giving

•••••••••

Characters: Astarion (BG3)

Tw: None, just a little angst if you squint

Content: Astarion isn't used to receiving presents

A/n: hope you enjoy!

•••••••••

•astarion, whose love language is gift giving. In his mind, he needs to prove his worth in one way or another, and you already told him that you don't want him to sleep with you if he doesn't enjoy it

•so he gives you presents. Lots and lots of presents. You take a glance at a necklace from the day's loot? It's yours. You need a new shirt? You don't even have to ask, Astarion already got one for you.

•he is so used to giving, having convinced himself that this is what makes you stay

•but when you try to give him something in return... That's a whole other story

•baby doesn't know how to react

•what do you mean he doesn't need to give you anything in return? Isn't that what's supposed to happen?

•it's only when he goes unusually silent that you spot the stray tear running down his cheek

•please give our little star a long hug and reassure him that it's okay, he needs it

•••••••••

@gojosatoru-supremacy on tumblr

|please don't repost on and platform without credits|

All support is welcome!

#soft for astarion fr #astarion #astarion fic #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x mc #fic #reverse comfort

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nhoirr · 4 months

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gojo and geto relationship gets me crying at 3am everytime

jjk. suguru geto x reader | sleeping hours : drabbles

FROM THE WALL — SUGURU HOURS

“WAKE UP CALL” written by nhoirr

Within this cursed world, once one is too curious stops for a moment of breath—the world will never stop for you.

At the moment you become separated from the time, the passing days of the world where the cruel reality dawns—the realization comes that you are.. alone.

.. What if, you talked to geto before he went down the rabbit hole?

#.angst, #.reverse-comfort, #.hidden-inventory-arc!geto,

HOW COLD IT WAS—this lonely night, where only the echoes of the pouring rain meeting the pavement floors filled the stillness of the setting sun, the moment where everyone laid rest.

A time of night where one would set their swords down for the night, to rest for another morning routine to come—duty of a jujutsu sorcerer meant all time was precious for rest.

SO IT BEGS THE QUESTION, that upon this opportune time that were few and far between—why was there now a figure welcoming the relentless downpour of the rain?

If you squint your eyes enough, you'd spot the familiar locks of the famous man—as well as a close colleague of yours; well, if you don't mention the minor feelings you've been blooming all this while.

The man—SUGURU GETO, was far too lost in the rain, perhaps something more eerie; sinister if you dare say, it begs the question lurking in your mind, telling you to pull him away before he drowns.

"Suguru?" — and to the voice came like a salvation to the man, you who sheltered him from the falling rain; did he finally come back to reality, pulled away from the thoughts that plagued his mind to near insanity.

He snaps his head up to look at you, though his vision blurred as his cloudy mind, he opens his mouth to speak, ".. you're still awake?"

There was another pause, soundlessness of the rain yet a million words hanged a million questions, forever unanswered.

"I should be the one asking that," you tilt your head to give a lopsided smile, one he can't help but reciprocate although not the same; the lack of light in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you—call you nosy, but you couldn't help to question it, ".. whats with the long face?"

Seems the question shatters whatever was left of his facade, his smile dropping in an instant.

"what gave it away?" he laughs that held no weight, almost a scoff if you hadn't known any better.

"Your eyes," carefully, you take a step down the stone stairs, finding a place safe enough to sit down. once you do, you speak again with a nod, "So, are you going to tell me?"

Instead of a smile you were poking at him for, it never formed. Instead there remained a silence that stretched on for eternity, silence far from peaceful, the lack of words spoke louder than any you could think of.

"It's tiring," he sighs out the words, beginning to massage his temples as if just thinking about it already made his head hurt.

"what is?"

he drops his hand, glancing at you from the corner of his eye yet hesitates at his own words. As if conflicted with the problem that was him, himself.

"This world," he finally finds the words to speak, emotions spilling from each and every word he'd utter—"you don't think-"

"it's frustrating?" you speak before him, yet he doesn't give even a sound for an answer. You guess he wouldn't speak any further, so you speak again, "isn't it so confusing, so easy to get lost.."

Though ends as a futile attempt, the man kept his lips glued shut, ".. but what can we do? the world won't stop for us moping around, duty calls." sighing in defeat, you move to stand up, with all these negative thoughts, you think sleep would be an optimal solution. So you give one glance back to the silent man, ".. I think it'd be best to rest your mind for the nigh—"

"This damned world," he mutters under his breath, yet loud enough for you to hear. perhaps its the worry, or you being too naive to know whats best for your own, you sat down again—peeking at the man beside you, this time, not saying a word.

Perhaps its the silence, the presence of another lending an ear out; does he finally say his mind.

"what is there left to protect?" — a philosophical question, one that even made you rack your brains out to think—for even a teen like you, never did you think of such a thing; so how could you have the answer? no matter how much you wished to answer his question.

who was it, you needed to protect?

"The weak," he—for once, chuckles; one thats deep, reverberating in your ears in an uncomfortable way that almost feels like mock.

".. that's an answer I would've given," his voice is hoarse, dry—not a hint of humor, tone was as sharp as a knife, perhaps enough to even cut at the raindrops or the coldness of the night.

You pause, speaking without thinking, "Do you not?" and the question speaks to his soul, echoing deep within the depths of his depraved mind—does he?

"Theres a line i've been treading," his unkept hair now dry and messy after the rain, bangs once framed his face now covered to hinder your view. ".. its been on my mind."

For you both, the answer lied with neither of you. And you knew it would stay like that for a while, for teens far too young for any of this.. how could you ever answer a question when you've only seen half of the world?

A teen.. an enjoyable part of youth—was the ignorance, "Then.. protect me," if you'd ever answer his question, it would be biased, wrong and..

it was what your heart told you so, just because you were young; couldn't you afford to be atleast naive?

".. you?" he repeats your words, finally he turns his head from the pavement floor to meet your gaze.

"If.." you start to say, stumbling with your words—these situations were never your forte, and neither was speaking your mind; well, your heart. "If you can't find anyone to protect, then .." boldly outreaching your hand, hovering over his clasped hands firmly shut, but with the gentle warmth of your fingers meeting with his cold hands—it eases enough for you to slip in, fingers slowly intertwine, "protect me."

Suguru finds himself staring at you, the twinkle in your eyes he swears he'd fight the world to protect.

"Atleast.. until you find another reason to," a bashful smile plays on your face, somehow tugging at his heart and he doesn't know when his eyes started to mirror yours.

Just.. why were you giving him hope? to what cause..

"That is-" theres that smile that graces your lips that his eyes longed for—the spark of radiant innocence shining down upon him, one he treasured with all his being. "Protect me, satoru, and.. those close to you."

slowly you move closer, and he lets you.

"Protect what you can," somehow, from what was left of himself you find something—a shred of warmth that remained in his heart, one that longed to hope in the face of despair.

"protect what matters to you, before you lose them to a decision you're not sure of." your words saw the world for what you could see, yet somehow spoke to the world as it was—to him, the naivety you held was what made you wiser; more than him, he'd even say.

So when your hand caress his cheek, when your shaking hand held his sleeve where once umbrella–now discarded in the pouring rain. "Life is not black and white, there is no line to be wary of, Suguru. So don't let the imaginary line tell you what to do, especially when it burdens you this much."

BUT EVEN AFTER THE DRAUGHT, to the relentless rain.. if he'd keep moving forward, perhaps there was still hope; maybe after the rain, there would be sprout—there would be the welcoming light of the sun, and no more rain.

That day, that night—SUGURU GETO TOOK YOUR WORDS, since then the promise was what kept him afloat all these years.

Yet still bounded, eternally wishing every night for his reason, his heart—you, to stay for a long while.

feel free to support an author by reblogging!

[📨] — I love geto so much,, itsniteven fudny I understand you annon, thank you for sending me this message.. I suddenly got a burst of motivation totally unrelated to the topic, but the scene of geto with yuki will forever plague my mind....

<- M-list !

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profoundbondfanfic · 6 months

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To Hold In Your Hands

To Hold In Your Hands by saltnhalo (@saltnhalo) Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 6k

Castiel has never wanted an angel. He does just fine on his own, has for a long time—since he was old enough to hold a shotgun and make a salt circle. He’s proud of what he’s been able to achieve without angelic help, and the longer he can keep hunting solo, the better. But judging by the summons he’s just received to the Men of Letters’ bunker, his time is up. He can’t avoid his future angel partner any longer. (aka. five times that Dean saves Castiel's life, and five times that Castiel slowly learns angels aren't as bad as he'd thought)

In a world where hunters are partnered with angels, Castiel prides himself in being an excellent solo hunter. Unfortunately, the Men of Letters force him into a partneship with one despite his wishes and his dislike for the feathery assholes, and Castiel now goes on hunts with a sarcastic dick in toe. Dean, however, proves himself useful very soon, and Castiel has to face the reality that angels might not be as bas as he thought they were.

This story is a delicious treat for anyone who loves a good reverse verse. Not only because we get hunter Castiel and angel Dean, but also because their characterization is just chef's kiss! Castiel is grumpy yet intrigued by the powerful angel - not that he would ever admit so out loud - and Dean is cocky but skilled in hunting and deadly effective. As Castiel learns to rely on Dean, and Dean grows more protective of his (always in some ridiculously dangerous situation) partner, the two go from apprehension to respecting each other to maybe something more. Castiel's denial about that something more just might get him into the most dangerous hunt he's ever found himself in.

#destiel #fic rec #teen and up #<10k #canon verse #reverse verse #case fic #human!castiel #hunter!castiel #bamf!castiel #angel!dean #bamf!dean #protective!dean #hurt and comfort #wing fic #enemies to lovers #canon typical violence #to hold in your hands #author: saltnhalo

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wangxianficrecs · 9 months

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💙 Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo

💙 Love Song In Reverse

by timetoboldlygo (@timetoboldlygo)

T, 237k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian gasps back into life without a single memory left. His friends, his siblings, his home — all lost to the fog in his head, nothing more than a mystery slipping through his fingers. What else was there to do but carry himself around in bits and parts, trying to become whole, a letter waiting to be written? He is – he is Mo Xuanyu, isn’t he? In this body, with these people. This family. He has to be Mo Xuanyu, he didn’t know anything else, even if the name sounded wrong. That was all he had. Well, that and Hanguang-jun. Lan Wangji, for his part, has had his taste of love and lost it. In all his grieving and searching, he didn’t expect to find another. - Wei Wuxian gets resurrected, loses his memories, and falls in love. Kay's comments: I devoured this fic, I binged it and it really got its claws in me. I could barely put it down because it had me that hooked. There were so many moments in this story that just peeled my heart open and made me ache in the best way possible. In which Wei Wuxian gets resurrected as per canon, but without his memories. Canon unfolds and of course, he falls in love with Lan Wangji. At the same time, we have Lan Wangji who slowly falls for "Mo Xuanyu" and feels as if he betrays Wei Wuxian. So many misunderstandings and miscommunications and they are struggling, but it all pays off in the end with a wonderful catharsis. Character-wise it feels more The Untamed-like and there's also some background SangCheng and features some stunning fanart! Excerpt: But Lan Wangji was already looking at him, eyes steady. He’d drawn his hands back to rest on his knees. “What do you need?” He could just pretend he hadn’t asked for anything. Lan Wangji would probably let it go; he wasn’t one to push if he didn’t think it was necessary. And it was a horrible feeling to ask this. But he’d said all those stupid words for a reason, so he let the rest fall of his tongue, water droplets on the lake. “Can you say my name?” Lan Wangji did an amazing impression of raising a dubious eyebrow without moving a single muscle. Mo Xuanyu wished for just a second that Lan Wangji was the sort of man who would just take a request like this with no questions, instead of making Mo Xuanyu unravel all the feelings knotted up in his chest. “It’s just that — I don’t have anyone else to say it. Informally, I mean.” There was no one who might call him gently. Xuanyu, his mother might have said. A-yu, come along! And he couldn’t bounce back at her, dragging his feet and demanding carry me, shijie, Xianxian is only three! I’m not tall enough! There was no one at all who might call him anything but a title and it was lonelier than anything Mo Xuanyu could hope to explain. There was no one who could hope to know him more intimately than a “Mo-gongzi.” “Ah, it’s okay if you can’t, I’m just—” “Mo Xuanyu,” Lan Wangji said, interrupting him. He paused, giving the name weight. “Mo Xuanyu.” The name Wei Ying from Lan Wangji’s lips had been cloaked in more warmth than Mo Xuanyu had heard from anyone before. Mo Xuanyu’s name didn’t sound like that. Lan Wangji said it the same way he said everything else. Serious, considered, but not warm.

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, retelling, amnesia, memory loss, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, falling in love, grief/mourning, misunderstandings, mistaken identity, miscommunication, sangcheng, good parents lan wangji/wei wuixan, past abuse, no homophobia, jiang cheng tries, somebody lives/not everybody dies

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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royalelusts · 1 year

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to the moon and back remember?

itadori yuuji made it his mission to inform you about everything happening in his life. it was a unique ritual but it put both of you at ease. especially yuuji since you weren’t a sorcerer. you couldn’t see the horrible things he had to fight, but from what you heard you can only imagine the struggle.

this is why you were worried now. no calls. no texts. to anyone else they might have thought you were overreacting. telling you to be grateful for the moment of peace. but to you? this wasn’t normal. you haven’t heard from yuuji since 9:00am. it was now 11:44pm. you even sent some messages of your own only to receive nothing. complete radio silence.

‘maybe he’s just been busy?’ your body cringed at the thought. it didnt feel right thinking it but your optimism was running thin. regardless you knew you were going to stress yourself to death if you didn’t call it a night. sighing, you checked your phone one last time before heading to bed. though you didn’t make it past the couch when someone knocked at the door.

upon opening the door you were speechless. the boy that had been missing in action and unknowingly stressing you out all day was standing outside your house covered in bruises and dried blood. you had half a mind to let our all your frustration right then and there. before you could get anything out the sorcerer hugged you. “yuuji-” you were barely able to safely land on the ground with the extra body weight. there you were. laying in the doorway of your house. thank god your parents were out on a trip.

“i know you’re upset and i’m sorry but…can we stay like this?” his voice was barely above a whisper, cracking towards the end. when you really looked at him his whole body was shaking. he was dangerously vulnerable. it took everything in him not to break right now. disregarding your previous anxieties, your arm circled around him while your other hand threaded itself through the messy pink mop of hair. “I got you.”

#✰—writes!!!#itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori angst #can this be considered fluff?? oh well.#itadori fluff #itadori reverse comfort #I was going to make this longer but didn’t have it in me #maybe I will one day but until then we’ll just have this #this was originally going to be a denji fic #so when I thought of itadori it was hard deciding who I wanted this to be about

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 4 months

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Chokehold

(Sanzu/Takuya in bad Toman Takemichi timeline)

(drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

This song goes perfect with it:

Warnings: The Dove Isn't Dead But Is Not Looking Great. Dubious Consent. Substance Abuse. Angst. No smut at all, just angst.

(Mikey's existence haunting the narrative, also called background unrequited HaruMai. The cursed name joke is totally pun intended, if you know you know)

Notes: Well... This is a total surprise. I saw a fanart of Sanzu wearing red high-heels next to glow-up Takuya and my brain got possesed. So like always with rareships, I was suddenly starving and had to create something about them.

Also, I know @lucifugousart will provide us with some art of them sooner or later, the images are now hunting your brain. 😌

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

Takuya wakes up feeling like shit. The sun is burning his eyes, too bright for his hangover brain, to not feel his head hurting with it. His mouth feels dry and his throat scratches when he tries to swallow. To be honest, there isn't a part of his body that isn't aching right now, but his neck and his mind are the worst of it.

He doesn't remember too much, but the flashbacks try to flood his mind. A maniacal laughter, stabbing pain on his thighs.

He looks at the man sleeping next to him, pink strands scattered on the pillow. Is not the first time this happens, but Haruchiyo is still a mystery for the blonde. No, Sanzu. Takuya has to correct himself, something that is starting to become an habit lately. Is difficult to not get attached, to remember how dangerous this man is. Even for Toman's standards.

Blood. Red high-heels pressing his neck. A poisoning tongue licking every mark, hands playing with his choker. Ripping it off with hungry eyes.

Sanzu's job inside the organization is unclear for anyone who isn't a high ranked member. The only thing everyone knows, whispers with fear, is that he's the one that deals with traitors. His loyalty is unquestionable, he never disobeys a direct order even if he tends to have his particular way of follow them (always more violent, more loud). At the same time, he doesn't seem to be on the claws of Kisaki, not totally at least (Takuya envies him so much for that, he has seen on his friends the price of being mere puppets).

They were both completely intoxicated and he can't find the will to hate the other. No matter if the memories makes him want to throw up, if the violence really scared him this time. He doesn't blame him, no more than he blames himself.

One of the fews that actually still talks with Mikey, that always knows where their boss is, like an obsessive shadow. Maybe that's the point, Sanzu's true loyalty is to the one who was once called Invincible (he suspects that's also where the pinkette's heart is, even if he'll never dare to ask).

He wonders if he would've allowed Sanzu to do all that to his body if he had been sober. If Sanzu would've done it if he had also been sober. He shivers, not wanting to know the answer to that.

Sometimes, Takuya feels there is two different people inside that damaged man. The unhinged criminal, the psychopath, the mask he shows to the world (like an irony of the one he used to wear back then).

Possessive, controlling, the one that fucks him raw without mercy. Always demanding more, craving every piece of him.

And Haruchiyo,the one that breaks in his arms when he's too high to contain all that pain. His vulnerability feels even more raw, too honest, too broken. Takuya wonders who is Haruchiyo looking when he tears up, caressing his blond locks with an affection that feels too deep for being directed at the younger boy.

Another flashback hits him, sweet voice on his ear, a complete opposite to the actions on the rest of his body. A name repeated on a loop, making him finally try to resist, to complain. Not that the other cares, who knows if he even realizes, too deep in his delusion. In that cursed name. “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey...”

“...Morning, pretty neck.”

Finally, a voice mumbles next to him, aquamarine eyes staring at his neck when he turns around. Haruchiyo touches the marks, guilt crossing his face when he does it.

“Last night... Shit. I'm sorry.”

Is just a whisper, so weak that he almost misses it. But it's full of shame and remorse, feelings that Takuya know too damn well (that are engraved in his body deeper than any mark or bruise the other could do to him).

“It's fine, we were both high. Don't worry about it.”

He tries to shrugged it off and kisses him softly, showing the same sweetness he learned to hide inside of Toman. Earning a faint smile in return, a couple of arms suddenly clinging on to him. Haruchiyo buries his face on the mistreated neck, exhaling loudly with relief. Deeply inhaling his scent right after, almost like it was oxygen.

Is difficult to not get attached and Takuya finds less reasons to resist every day. And it's fine, right? Everything is just fine.

If it wasn't for his body remembering, everything could be fine.

#me writing🌻#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fic #drabble #angst #hurt/no comfort #bad toman takemichi timeline #sanzu haruchiyo #takuya yamamoto #harutaku #sanzu angst #takuya's pov #double uno reverse dubcon #hell if i know how this happened #Spotify

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tiresomeimagination · 10 months

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The Demons in the Details (707 x Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's note: This is an entry for @mysticmessengerenglish's fanfic contest. The theme was weddings and I had an idea to try playing with. Hope you enjoy! ^^

You paused in your inspection of the current venue and glanced back over at Saeyoung to gauge his reaction. He looked deep in thought as he scanned the building. You wished you could hear his thoughts… He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

~~~~~

Wedding preparations are always tiring. They become even more so when expectations or standards are a bit too particular. Saeyoung was by no means a very picky person. In fact, you often had to nag him about keeping his preferences quiet for the sake of others. So it was a bit out of the ordinary to find that Saeyoung was so critical of every venue you visited. There was always something. It was too public of a spot, it was too closed off, it didn’t have enough exits, and the list went on. Nothing was quite right. You got the feeling that if it were solely up to him, he would just have the whole thing in his bunker.

His mind was racing with every possible worst-case scenario. He had to. After all, he had finally gotten everything he ever wanted. He was reunited with his brother. He had found a new family in the RFA members. He had even found the love of his life. He had…everything to lose. With his father and the agency still out there looking for him, he had far too many enemies to take any chances.

Finally, Saeyoung seemed to reach a decision. “Hm…yeah…this place is nice and all, but I just don’t think it’s us, y’know? I mean… we can definitely do better,” he said with a slight chuckle, attempting to keep his voice light and casual.

You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “This is the fifth place we’ve seen today. We’re kind of running out of options…” You tried to point out as gently as possible.

Saeyoung let out a small sigh of his own as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “You’re right, you’re right. How about we just…sleep on it for now? I have some more research to do anyway.”

You knew this ‘research’ probably involved running background checks on all the venue’s staff that would even breathe in the general vicinity of the event.

“...Okay. Yeah… It’s getting late anyway. We might as well go back,” you relented. You wanted to try your best to be accommodating. You knew that he had to do whatever he could do to feel safe.

Spirits were low as the two of you returned to the bunker. There was a certain unspoken tension that neither you nor Saeyoung wished to address. You both made light small talk about the day as you had dinner with him and Saeran as usual, but you could tell Saeyoung was still worried. As much as you wanted to try and talk through things, you didn’t want to push him before he was ready…. And so, even as you retired to the guest room for bed, the topic was avoided entirely for the night.

You awoke a few hours later. After a quick glance at your phone to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night, you decided to get up and check in on Saeyoung. Experience told you that there was a good chance he got caught up in something and would need to be talked into actually going to bed. However, rather than a chance for playful teasing between you two, what you found when you peeked in was much more concerning.

Saeyoung sat on the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his head in his hands. Without thinking, you entered and quickly crossed the room towards him.

The sound of your footsteps jolted him out of whatever state he had been in and his head whipped up to lock eyes with you. “…Y/N…?” He asked quietly as if your presence had surprised him.

“Saeyoung! What’s wrong?? Did something happen?” You asked worriedly as you came to a stop by his side.

He took a moment to register your words, still lost in his thoughts. “...Um…yeah…I-I mean no.” He stammered out, pausing to rub tiredly at his face and try to recollect his jumbled thoughts. “Everything’s fine. I just…had a weird dream, hah…” He breathed out quietly.

You frowned deeply and sat down beside him, placing a light touch on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it…?” You asked softly.

He didn’t answer, so you continued. “Whatever it is…you can talk to me. We promised to handle things together, remember? You don’t have to talk about it right now, but I can tell you’ve been worried about something and it’s more than just whether we get married someplace with or without windows, so-”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Saeyoung suddenly interrupted your ramble.

“...What…?” You replied, caught off guard by his words.

Saeyoung took a deep breath in and let it out before he looked over at you. “Things aren’t going to be easy, you know. Living with me…won’t be easy.” He paused, glancing down at the engagement ring you wore on your hand. A sign of your connection to one another.

“...What? What are you talking about?”

He sighed again and gently took your hand in his. “I still have a lot of enemies. You could get caught in the crossfire of any one of them.”

“Saeyoung…”

“Every time I close my eyes… I see everything that could go wrong. And every time I open them again I think about how I’m not ready. If I fail to account for even one possible threat, you could get hurt…or worse…"

"Saeyoung." You called out a little louder, hoping to get his attention off of his spiraling anxious thoughts and back onto you. When he looked back up at you, you continued. "You don't have to bear everything alone anymore. Everyone in RFA has your back. Saeran and I too. We're all in this together. And if dealing with Mint Eye has taught us anything…it's that we're stronger together." You said with a soft smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You brought your other hand up to gently touch his shoulder. "And to answer your question…yes. This is what I want. You are what I want, and nothing will change that."

The both of you were moments away from tears. Saeyoung quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder and sniffling softly.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt.

The second half went unspoken but you could hear it loud and clear. He was afraid of losing you. No amount of mere words could quell those fears entirely. They lived so deeply in his heart and you couldn’t chase them all out no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do was try to support him.

You let out a sigh as you hugged him back and let your own tears fall as well. "I love you too.”

Your happily ever after wouldn't be as easy as the fairy tales made them out to be…but you two would be okay so long as you stood together. You weren’t about to let go, and by the looks of his grip right now, neither was he.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger x reader #mm 707 #saeyoung choi #707 x reader #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #reverse hurt/comfort #mmed #possibly not my best work but eh I was pressed for time and did me best #this went through several different draft iterations hhh #credit to sapphyra for giving me the idea needed to help me reorient my approach and get the fic flowing better #whew it's been a while since I've written for my boi #hope I'm not too rusty #anyways #back into the void I go o7

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