anonymous asked:

RFA comforting their s/o who is having a panic attack?

Author’s note: As a person who struggles with anxiety, I just want to let you all know that you can message me anytime!! Even if you think it’s over the dumbest thing I promise I’m here for you.


  • you two had lunch plans after the RFA meeting but after it ended you ran out of the room
  • he was just ??? so confused ?? until he walked past the women’s restroom and heard you’re labored breaths
  • he hesitated at first because he didn’t want to make it worse and also it was the women’s restroom
  • but he got over himself and walked in
  • when you turned around he saw tears in your eyes he hugged you as tight as he could
  • he stroked your hair until you could catch your breath and whisper how everything will be alright
  • afterwards he would go run and get you a bottle of water and ask for you to tell him if you ever feel anxious again
  • he’d also continue to remind you that you aren’t alone and that he loves you and that he will always be there for you


  • it was your first time encountering one of Zen’s fans without him around and you had NO IDEA what to do
  • she was being very polite but there were so many other thoughts buzzing around in your head and it was just too much
  • Zen was watching from afar when he saw you hands start to shake
  • he quickly walked over to you and slung an arm around you, pulling you off to the side
  • he’d take your hand and and place it on his chest
  • “Just focus on my heart beat babe. You are so stronger, stronger than I ever was. I love you.”
  • he would kiss your forehead pull you into one last hug
  • then he would offer to take you home and make you some tea
  • when you two did go home he would cuddle with you and tell you stories about the other RFA members
  • “And that’s how 707 got his hand stuck in a toliet!”


  • as a mom she knew exactly what was happening as soon as it started
  • so when she saw the tears form in your eyes as you read an email from a client who reject the party invitation, she wasted no time
  • she walked over to you and tapped you on the shoulder
  • when you turned around, there was Jaehee, favorite chocolate and movie in hand
  • “Why don’t we take off of work early… I think you’ve earned it.”
  • as soon as you left the office she would ask what made you nervous to see if she could do anything to stop it
  • when you told her she would get sO FRUSTRATED at the client
  • then you two went home and watched that movie while Jaehee played with your hair


  • normally when he got home from work you would greet him at the door, but this time it was only Elly
  • as much as he loved the cat he frowned and went off in search for you
  • when he saw you, sitting on your shared bed, trying not to fall apart, something inside him broke
  • he was angry at whoever did this, and angry at himself for not being there for you
  • quietly he sat down next to you
  • before you could even say a word he wrapped his arms around you
  • “Match my breathing. Just feel my chest rise and fall.”
  • He’d kiss your temple as he held you and whisper all the things he loved about you
  • when you told him about what was happening, he was so so so understanding
  • “If this ever happens again, I want you to call me. I don’t care where you are, or where I am. If my other half is falling apart that means I won’t be whole either.”


  • struggling with anxiety himself, he knew exactly how you felt
  • when he saw you crying he wished he could take away all of your pain
  • he would even take it on himself if he could
  • of course he would try to make you laugh, but if you needed him to just be quiet and hug you, that’s what he’d do
  • when you were ready he would ask you to tell him about it
  • little did you know he has a little book where he writes down the things that trigger your anxiety
  • just to make sure he never does those things
  • he would trace all the lines on your hand and hum a soothing song to ease your nerves
  • the next day he’d leave a note for you telling you how much he loves you and how proud he is of you

Luke strolling into the dressing room after a rather taxing show with his hair all stuck to his forehead and sweat staining the navy blue in his shirt and as he sheds the clothing from his back, he’s singing lowly in a raspy, spent voice my girlfriend’s bitchin cause I always sleep in.. and as he does he spots you in the corner of the room, your arms folded tight to your chest and your back against the wall as you drink him in shamelessly. he’s just smirking, roughing his hair up as he makes his way over to you, two fingers finding your belt loops as he presses you against the wall, heat radiating off his bare skin and labored breath fanning out over your collarbones as he brushes his lips over the hollow of your throat, the chill from his lip ring a harsh contrast to the humidity surrounding your figures and he’s just smirking when he feels a string of goosebumps spread against his lips that are still firmly attached to your skin as he mumbles lowly in your ear, “she’s kinda hot though..” 

Stabbed RP with Asgardian Brat

“-?” Loki gave a choked gasp as he felt something sharp prick in his chest. His eyes widened and he slowly looked from Nicola’s eyes to his chest where a long dagger had been buried into his chest. He could see blood already start to welt from the wound.

“… Nicola?” with that, he sunk to his knees, hand going to the handle of the blade to pull it out. His breath became labored and wet-sounding. He coughed and blood splattered onto the floor, “What… have y-… done?…” he struggled to stay upright.

Highly charged sexual tension filled moment where Derek and Stiles are about to kiss and Derek leans in so close that their lips just barely touch before he pulls away after having second thoughts with Stiles chasing his mouth like he’s starving for it and then Stiles stops too before their lips can touch and their foreheads rest against each other as their labored breathing fills the room and their hearts are beating out of their chests and Stiles brings his hands up to rest on Derek’s chest, and then Derek just says “fuck it” and grabs Stiles around the waist and kisses him, and he just ravages Stiles and Stiles is moaning and grabbing at Derek’s hair and it’s the hottest fucking kiss ever. 

Then there are removals of shirts as Derek pushes an eager Stiles towards the bed and they land in a heap of limbs on top and they start reaching for the other’s pants as they continue make out before it fades to black and we all know what happens next, ofc. 


Summary: Just before your grandfather past he told you about his days as a Men of Letters. Now, you’re seventeen, alone, trying to stay out of the Foster Care system, and intent on finding the mysterious bunker. But, when you find it, there are two men already living there…

A/N: I don’t usually write my own ideas, but I thought of this just now, and I really wanted to write it! I even gave this one an actual title! 

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As a runner, and I feel as though I am most likely speaking for many other runners, there is nothing more rewarding that starting to see results over a consistent period of time in subtle ways.

Your average “easy run” pace suddenly becomes 30 seconds faster than 3 weeks ago. You look down at your watch and are pleasantly surprised.

The same amount of intervals in a workout suddenly start to feel effortless and smooth and your once labored breathing becomes a rhythm in tune with your feet hitting the ground.

The paces that once seemed grueling and impossible now become attainable and not only that, but manageable, doable, not for one interval but for all of them.

Your average weekly mileage doubles from a few months back, a few months back when you sat there wondering at the time how on earth you were going to get up to a certain amount of miles per week?

But it’s a process, a slow, steady, consistent, and patient process; and nothing beats the subtle signs that slowly, but surely, remind us it is all coming together.


Imagine Sam and Dean trying to keep you quiet while you all hide in a  closet that’s barely big enough for the three of you.

Author’s Note: Both brothers x reader and it’s just a short (only 791 words) fluffy/hot one shot. This is just a little bonus for today that I’ve had floating around in my head for a while! Best way to fight writers block is to go with whatever's on your mind! Warnings: if you’re actually claustrophobic this might be not as cute? haha I am a little but not severely. I think I’d make an exception for Sam and Dean (;

As the closet door slammed shut I panted and tried to squeeze tighter into the small space. Two other bodies were pressed against mine, their labored breath hot on my face and neck.

“Shh, everyone be quiet.” Dean’s mouth was right above my head and I could feel the rumble of his deep voice through his chest touching mine. Generally hiding wasn’t our first choice while hunting, but drastic circumstances called for drastic measures. Whatever this monster was, it wasn’t going down with a few silver bullets or salt-filled shells. Sam mumbled something about his neck hurting and I looked up to see his face craned over mine, bent downwards by the low ceiling. I had to stifle the giggle that came to my lips.

“Yeah, whatever.” He rolled his eyes and shifted awkwardly, but there was no where else for his body to go besides towards me. Both Winchesters were crushed against the walls of the tiny closet. I could feel both of their lungs expanding against me with every breath and their body heat was stifling. I was drowning in their smells. The warm scent of spices, old books, and soap was lingering with the smells of leather, motor oil, and minty aftershave. Their presence was making it just that much harder to control my breathing. A pink blush rose to my cheeks and I instinctively hid my head downwards, straight into Dean.

“Hey, keep your pointy chin out of my chest.” I whispered an apology and eased backwards, where something flinched under my foot. Sam grunted as I stepped on his toes.

“Sorry!” Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around my waist to keep me still, fingers reaching all the way to the top of my hip. I could tell from the grip and placement of the thumb on my stomach that it was Dean’s hand.

“Stop moving.” He practically growled his words. In the faint light I could see where the creature had scratched him, a little trickle of blood following the curve of his clenching jaw. My heart pounded in rhythm with the footsteps growing louder outside the door. Dean’s hand didn’t leave my waist as we all tried to quiet our panting and remain still. I held my breath for as long as I could, my lips trembling with fear. The thumping outside stopped right in front of where we hid. My lungs were burning with the desire to take another breath, but I didn’t dare.

The silence went on for what seemed like hours before a soft squeak slipped from my oxygen deprived throat. A hand from behind me pressed over my lips, careful not to cover my nose. Sam’s hair tickled my cheek as he rested his forehead in my shoulder. I think he was silently apologize for gagging my mouth, or maybe his neck was just hurting. My lips ground against the callouses of his skin as I swallowed back my nervousness. All of this touching, all of these smells, it was making me shake with conflicting emotions. I was two parts terrified and one part enthralled. Finally, the monster outside the door relented and began walking again, it’s footsteps becoming quieter as it lumbered in the other direction. Dean was the first to sigh and he removed the hand from my side. My sigh was less of relief and more of disappointment as Sam retracted his palm as well.

“Sorry, Y/N.” He traced his fingers down my arm, and I wondered if he could feel my body shiver. “I didn’t mean to be rough.” His voice was genuinely concerned and sweet as honey. I stuttered but nothing understandable came out of my lips, which still felt the gentle pressure of his palm. Dean huffed and stared down with a cocky grin.

“Well, I’m not sorry. You fidget like a ten year old.” He wrinkled his freckle-dotted nose, coming as close to my face as possible. The teasing spurred a laugh from Sam that I felt in every inch of my back. I couldn’t handle these overwhelming sensations any longer, it was just too much. Without a word I threw open the closet door and leapt outside. I gasped as I was able to breath again, without the smells of men and body heat quickening my pulse.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows at my reddened cheeks and wide eyes. What was I supposed to tell him? That I couldn’t handle being the center of a sexy Winchester-sandwich any longer? No, I was a hunter not some starry eyed girl with a crush on my partners. I shrugged and tried to straighten my wrinkled clothing and messy hair.

“Nothing, I’m just a little claustrophobic." 

Today was tough. I refuse to say bad because as long as I’m running, I’m overly grateful. But today was just really hard. No pace felt easy (even at the slowest interval of the workout), my mind just wasn’t right, my motivation was struggling, breathing labored. But we grow from this.

We grow from this.

Long after Castiel has stopped praying, he meets God. Metatron was inaccurate in his description, but many, many centuries had passed, so it isn’t altogether surprising.

Maybe he isn’t seeing God, maybe he’s just hallucinating where he lays in one of Heaven’s hospital beds, a few scant angels in the room all singing to him. He who deserves it the least. Either way, real or unreal, the face of his Father provides untold comfort.

God smiles to him. “You’re nearly dead, Castiel.”

All he does is nod, his chest heavy and eyes drooping. Staying awake takes so much energy he doesn’t have.

God brushes a sweaty lock of hair off of his forehead. “If you could ask anything of me, Castiel, what would it be?”

Castiel takes a labored breath, remnants of a fantasy he’s harbored for the last few years playing out in his mind. “For Azazel to die in the monastery where he spoke to Lucifer.”

The room grows brighter and brighter, the angels scream, Castiel feels whole again. 

 • • •

Dean Winchester is five years old and he’s going to teach his baby brother to walk. Daddy’s sick, so he’s been with some doctors for almost the whole summer. Ten whole weeks. But he’s coming home soon, and Dean wants to prove that he’s been the man of the house while his daddy’s been gone.

Sammy giggles as he crawls to the apple tree in the front yard, trying to get around to the back of it. The tree is their miracle, mommy says. It just grew over night, and the apples it grows are the best Dean’s ever had. Especially when mommy makes pie with them.

“Boo!” Cas pops out from behind the tree and pulls Sammy to his feet.

Dean laughs and runs up to his best friend. He couldn’t ever imagine a life without Cas.


“When you kiss, the heart rate doubles that of being in a resting state. As a result, the heart flutters and the breathing becomes labored, and the person can even experience dizziness, which makes it easy to be mistaken as him/her being in love. However, all of these are mere playful games of skin ship, and a hormone’s hoax. You must not be deceived by this.”

There were tears in his eyes, when she finally got to him–he had kept himself together until the last enemy fell. To see the strong hero brought to his knees after all they had been through…

“You have to leave me behind,” he whispered through labored breath, hand clutching at his chest.

“Link…I can’t–”

“Princess, you must,” he cried, his voice pained, “I’ll only slow you down.”

His breath rattled in his chest, she could feel it under her hand. 

“Take the sword. Finish this,” he pleaded softly. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. 

     What if…. on Ravenhill, when Bilbo sees Thorin go down, he runs over as fast as his big hairy feet can take him. He sees to the wound quickly, applying pressure to help stop the bleeding and shushing Thorin when he coughs and groans. Bilbo frantically whispering “no, Thorin, you’re going to live” when the dwarf is trying to tell Bilbo that he’s sorry, sorry for everything. 

      What if Thorin is convinced that he won’t make it out of this, so he grabs one of Bilbo’s blood-covered hands in his own. “I was… too blind to see it…” he’d whisper, taking a shaky and labored breath, “Bilbo I– I… love….” and then staying awake is too much effort, and Thorin slips into unconsciousness.

      What if Bilbo yells out for help, screaming for Dwalin, Fili or Kili (who have just narrowly avoided being killed by Bolg and other orcs). The three come running, Tauriel with them. Thorin is growing quieter, his breaths shorter, and Bilbo is stroking his hair and whispering “just wake up, please Thorin, don’t you dare leave”. Tauriel uses her skills in healing to help Thorin, just enough so they can manage to get back down and head for the inside of the mountain to get to the healers. 

    What if later on that night, the healers tell Bilbo and the company that Thorin will survive. He sits by Thorin’s side all night, unable to even think about sleeping. Bilbo gently places a hand on Thorin’s, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He gives a relieved sigh when Thorin tiredly murmurs Bilbo’s name. Bilbo gives a soft smile and whispers, “…I love you too”.

Alec fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves, worried Lily would only stand him up once again. He made his way down the familiar hall to her room and knocked on the door before adjusting his collar once again. His stomach reeled, and had he been human he might have thought he was going to throw up. Alec never felt nervous around anyone before her, and it made him wonder what it was about her that he couldn’t get over. The vampire jumped slightly when the door opened, and he ran a hand through his hair as he looked to the familiar girl standing in the doorway. “I’m early, aren’t I? You don’t seem happy. I can come back later-” @majorsdarlinglilypad

Imagine Eric

Originally posted by imagineseverywhere

Imagine Eric getting jealous when a fellow initiate pins you during a sparring match and proceeds to beat up said initiate.

Eric stood by, arms crossed and intense gaze upon the mat you and Orion were sparring on. You were part of Eric’s first batch of initiates and had already made it to the top twenty. This particular sparring match wasn’t anything really important, just some training before the final phase when the Dauntless leaders would review all of you. Over the past few months you had noticed Orion checking you out and he had even asked you out a few times, mostly when extremely drunk. Up until now it hadn’t concerned you much but that changed quickly.

In between punches and kicks and labored breaths Orion said,“Come on, (Y/N), just go out with me.”

“Orion, I said no, now back off.”

You went for a back kick to Orion’s chest but unfortunately he caught your foot and wrenched it at an uncomfortable angle. Soon he had you pinned to the mat, hands holding your wrists above your head and knees keeping your legs from lashing out.

Orion leaned his face close to yours, “Fine if you won’t say yes of your own free will I suppose I can just make you.”

You turned your face away from the creep and writhed under his weight but it was no use, he was way to strong.

Orion leaned his face closer, you could feel his breath on your lips as you closed your eyes when you suddenly felt his weight being knocked off of you. You looked up to see Orion rubbing his elbow, which he had landed on, and Eric standing over him, absolutely furious. You quickly backed up as Orion got up to fight your trainer.

After a few minutes Eric had Orion pinned, is arm wrenched behind his back and blood seeping from multiple wounds. “Now, jack ass, your gonna back off of (Y/N), aren’t you?” Eric asked, the fire in his eyes still very pronounced.

When Orion failed to answer Eric twisted his arm up even more. Orion let out a small yelp and nodded.

“Say it,” Eric snarled.

“I’ll back off of (Y/N).” Orion said through clenched teeth.

Eric leaned closer to Orion, “That wasn’t so hard was it? Now make sure you stay away from my girl.”

Eric released Orion, dusted his hands off on his pants and walked over to you, “There you go, he won’t bother you any more.”

You smiled and kissed Eric on the cheek as he draped his arm around your shoulder. The two of you turned to walk out of the training room as a couple other initiates slowly approached the mat to help Orion to the infirmary.

Blind Faith: Chapter Two

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings for this chapter: Uh,  lots of angst.  Annnd it only gets worse from there kiddies. Sanity slippage. Descriptions of sickness/injuries. There is vomiting, nothing graphic but it happens. Reference to past abuse/torture.

Also I went back and added something to the first chapter about Stan’s lighter. It’s not big, but I just wanted there to be consistency for this chapter. I do what I want! Thanks once again to my sister, farfallavendetta​, for being a great editor!

“Come on Stan, wake up,” Ford muttered, desperation creeping into his voice. His brother remained unconscious, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Everything was silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of water from stalactites. Although Stan was unconscious, Ford knew he wasn’t alone. Those eyes watched his every move, as if observing an entertaining stage play. Ford felt the bubble of terror expand within him, his mind quaking with the darkness that lurked at its edges.

“No, no, no… n-not yet…” he whispered to himself, and partly to whatever was listening. He could not allow himself to succumb to the darkness yet, not when Stan was in such dire straits. Learning to compartmentalize, ignore, and disassociate thoughts was something he had learned to do throughout the course of his research into the supernatural.  It had proved a valuable defense mechanism on more than one occasion. So he did that now, sinking into himself, concentrating on repressing his dread at the abominations sliding over the ceiling. It wouldn’t last that long, a part of him knew madness was rising like high tide in his mind. He focused his thoughts on Stan. Your brother needs you. Help him now. That’s the most important thing.

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