a voice of gentle reassurance

Are we Cool?

Okay, I know what I said earlier about my next story not being about Sanders Sides (and that will be coming out relatively soon), but then the new video dropped and now I have i d e a s. So, enjoy this little snippet!

Warnings?: Doubts and insecurities, past reflections, spoilers for the new video.

Roman stared at the door in front of him, rubbing his arm as he tried to work up the nerve to knock. He took a few deep breaths as he raised his hand to knock, but he flinched back slightly in surprise as the door opened a bit, an eye peering out.

“Roman?” Virgil opened the door further as the princely side sputtered, taking a step back.

“I-I’m sorry, but how…?” he struggled to say, gesturing towards him in an attempt to convey what he wanted to say.

Virgil raised a brow in disbelief. “Princey, I can feel your nervousness from inside. That kinda comes with the job. So, what’s going on?”

“Oh, right,” he said, looking up towards the ceiling to gather his thoughts, his hands waving in circles as he tried to word what he wanted to say. “Virgil, first off, I wanted to say thank you, for joining in on the song. I know you don’t always want to do that sort of thing with us.”

“Well, this time I didn’t have any stupid lines,” Virgil gave him a half-smile as his posture relaxed. He reached behind him to shut the door, shifting over to lean against the wall with his arms crossed. “But yeah, no problem. This time, it was kinda…fun. This time.”

“Thank you, still.” Roman gave off a nervous chuckle as he glanced down at the floor. He heard a sigh and noticed when Virgil’s hand made a “keep going” motion.

“I just… what you said during the song…did you mean it?” he asked, quiet and uncertain and definitely not his usual self.

Virgil frowned a bit, feeling a little uncomfortable as he tried to remember exactly what he said. “What did I say?” he drawled out, trying to think if he had said something that might of upset the creative side. He didn’t think he did; he knew he said stuff before the song, but it was said after calling out on Logan’s crap too.

“Is it true… that you don’t hate me?” Roman forced out, finally meeting Virgil’s eyes. The anxious side was taken aback to see that his eyes were shining with tears, refusing to be shed.

Virgil’s look softened up as he pushed himself off the wall, reaching out to place a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Princey, I never hated you. Sure, you did things that I didn’t like, and there were times I didn’t like you for that, but I never hated you. No one here hates you.” His voice was gentle, reassuring, not unlike the times the others had to be the same way with him as he started to spiral or the rare occurrence before he was accepted when they unexpectedly clicked.

Roman couldn’t help but think back to those times, when there was days he was certain he hated Virgil. How was he to know that he had his times when he was like this? When he wasn’t trying to be scary because he wanted to help?

“I’m terrible,” he groaned out, unaware he had said it aloud. 

Virgil frowned lightly as he moved his arm, laying it over Roman’s shoulders. “You’re not terrible. You’re just… really opinionated. And stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn,” Roman huffed, but there was no heat in his words as he rubbed his eyes, looking at Virgil with a small smile.

“Sure, Princey. Tell you what: Let’s go watch a movie and chill for a bit. Give us some time to calm down,” Virgil suggested, tugging Roman in the direction of the commons. 

Roman followed along, mustering a bit of humor as he asked, “I suppose we’ll be watching the Black Cauldron? Or perhaps the Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“You know, I was thinking we could watch Aladdin or something,” Virgil didn’t look at him, but Roman could hear how he was trying to be supportive at the moment, letting him know he would let him pick. 

He thought about it a bit more until he settled on an idea. “How about we watch Lilo and Stitch?”

Virgil paused for a second, letting his smile grow as he gave a slow nod. “Y’know what? That sounds nice.”

@randomslasher I think you might like this because I heard you like some gentle platonic prinxiety.

anonymous asked:

"I'm so proud of you" bruce and dick

Thanks to MJ for donating! Here’s your Bruce and Dick kidnapped content!

A soft call of his name is the first thing that Dick registers through the haze fogging up his brain. He’s at half-processing speed right now, and it takes him an uncomfortably long time to even recognize the voice he should know in his sleep. Not enough Batman, but not enough charm to be Brucie Wayne. So that just leaves plain old—

“Bruce?” Dick groans. His head is hanging, and he doesn’t have enough energy to do anything but roll it sort of in the direction from where he thinks his name had been called. Maybe. It’s hard to remember anything. Or move. Or think.

“Can you open your eyes for me, chum?”

Dick hums, grimacing when he peels his eyelids open.

The world around him is a hazy, blurry mess. Too bright, too dark. Too much, but not enough. He doesn’t recognize anything past fuzzy shapes and dark colors, and the effort of keeping his eyes open leaves him absolutely drained. They slip closed again, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Dick,” Bruce calls again, more urgent than the first time.

He sounds close. Close enough that he would have seen Dick’s attempt to do as he asked. Dick wonders if he’s going to be asked to open his eyes again, and if he’s going to have to keep them open. He hates to admit it, but he’s too tired. Too exhausted. If Bruce asks, though, Dick’s going to do it. Whether he wants to or not. It’s been beat into him for the past seven years.

“Dick,” Bruce says. “I need you to look at me.”

And there it is. Dick tries to fight.

“I’m tired,” he croaks, and something bubbles up in his chest. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He doesn’t want to look at Bruce. He wants to sleep. “Bruce, I’m really tired.”

Keep reading

Three Words, Eight Letters

Author’s Note: Reid x Reader. When the Reader says “I love you” Reid struggles to return the sentiment. But there’s more than one way to say it. You just have to listen.

He can translate five languages with ease and can read 20,000 words per minute. He can recite Shakespeare and poetry and memorize entire film scripts without batting an eye. And yet, there are three words he just can’t manage to string together.

She thinks it’s a mental block, that something in his mind just won’t let it happen. Or perhaps it’s something in his heart. Something scarred, and something scared. They’d been together for six months before she found the courage to say it to him. They’d been sitting together on a park bench, watching the world go by. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she’d nestled close to his chest, sighing. It was the most natural thing in the world, to be by his side.

“Spencer?” she’d said, glancing up at him.


“I, um… I love you.” She had pulled back a bit, gauging his reaction. His eyes widened and red crept into his cheeks as he sat there stammering, looking wholly shell-shocked. “It’s okay,” she added, “You don’t have to say it back! I just thought you should know.”

Spencer had looked down, pulling at his knuckles. “It-it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that… I can’t. I’ve tried to tell you so many times, but the words, they won’t come out.” He was quiet for a few moments, before saying, “I think it’s because of Maeve.” His late girlfriend. He had told her their story a few months into their relationship, the night they unearthed the demons of their past together. “She said it to me, but I never had the chance to tell her that, and ever since then I just… I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Because I do… I really do, I just…”

His voice jumped higher and his eyes began to water. Sensing his distress she’d leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. “Shh. I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I just wanted you to know.” There’s no need to rush it. When he’s ready, he’ll say it.

Months pass, and he still cannot manage it. She’s gotten rather fond of telling him despite the sentiment not being returned. Those words seem to come so easily to her, as though trying to make up for his silence. She can’t stop telling him how much she loves him. When he shows up to her apartment with her favorite takeout food, when they’re the only two sitting in the library, between ragged breaths after he’s kissed her so deeply the world melts away.

He never says it back. And yet, he says it all the time. She just has to listen.

“I love you,” she laughs, as he finishes telling her a funny story on their walk back from dinner. He’s accompanying her back to her apartment, and the air is rapidly cooling off. She shivers, wearing only a dress and light jacket. When the sun went down, the mild fall temperatures went with it. Spencer stops and pulls off his coat, laying it across her shoulders.

“Darling, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry. I’m not really cold at all,” he assures her, removing his scarf as well. With care he wraps it in circles around her neck, smiling at her. Instantly the cold in her bones is replaced by warmth, and she buries her nose into the fabric of the scarf. It smells like ivory soap, coffee, and autumn. Just like him.


Spencer takes her hand once more, and they start off down the street. “Of course. I don’t want you to get sick. You need it more than I do.” He takes his coat back when they reach her building, but he conveniently forgets about the scarf, a fact which she’s all too happy about to believe it was an accident.

She hears it then.

She hearts it when he comes back after a long case, she throws her arms around him. “God I’ve missed you,” she says. “I love you so much.”

He kisses her forehead, and when he pulls away she notices the bag in his hand. “”I brought you something.”

“Why?” she asks. “It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“Open it,” is all he says. She peers inside, and withdraws a book. Staring at the cover, her mouth falls open.

Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. An old, worn copy. She opens the front cover and stares at the first page. It can’t be. “But this is… this is a first edition! Spencer, it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He shakes his head. “You’ve always told me it’s your favorite book, and that you’d do anything to get a first edition copy. Well, on the case I helped save the life of a rare bookstore owner, who insisted on giving me a book as a gift. When I saw this one, I knew I had to get it.”

“Why?” she repeats. In her arms she clutches the book tight, not sure whether she wants to hug it or him more.

“Just because,” he says. “I wanted to see your smile when you opened it.” The book is temporarily forgotten on the armchair as she loses herself in kissing him.

She knows it the day he comes over to find her curled up on the couch, crying. It’s been a difficult week and her best friend, Isa, has been in a terrible accident. Things are up in the air. Isa is in the hospital. Spencer doesn’t ask any questions, he simply walks over and sits down beside her. She continues to sob as he pulls her onto his lap and wraps up her in an embrace. His heart beats through his shirt, and he runs his hands up and down her back in slow patterns, whispering gentle reassurances in that low voice he typically reserves for victims and grieving families. In his arms, she is safe. Warm and protected. No matter what the world throws at her, she knows he will be there to lift her up and keep her steady.

The very presence of him soothes her. He wipes her tears with the sleeves of his shirt and pushes her hair back from her face. They sit there in silence, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on her skin until her breathing returns to normal. No words are needed at all. He knows her, knows what she needs. And she knows in her heart exactly how he feels.

She is certain of it when they’re at an event for her job, and one of her colleagues starts ranting about how medication is useless for mental illness. Robert goes on and on, saying that all people need to do is think positively and do things like yoga. Everyone is overdiagnosed, overmedicated, and overly sensitive.

Spencer feigns a sudden interest in the view from the window in the hallway as an excuse to escape the conversation. He glances down at her, quickly looking her over. “Are you okay?” he asks.

She bites her lip and inhales slowly. Anxiety has been a struggle for most of her life, and it was only with therapy and medication that she started to heal. Since college, things have been much better, but she still remembers the darker days, when she wasn’t sure how to keep going. To hear people say such ignorant things about mental health still stings.

“I’m alright,” she says. “I’ve heard worse things. But thank you for getting me out of there. I love you.”

Spencer interlaces his fingers with her own and they stare out at the city together. “I’d do anything for you. And I don’t want anyone to hurt you. What you feel is valid, and nobody should tell you otherwise.” He’s always doing that with her. Her protector, her knight in a vest and cardigan. There is no doubt in her mind that when he says anything he means anything.

They are sitting in his living room and they’ve both had a stressful day at work, and he’s making herbal tea in the kitchen. “I love you,” she says, grinning, when he sets the mug down before her. Spencer frowns and shifts uneasily in the armchair he’s in.

“Doesn’t it bother you, Y/N?” he asks.

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The fact that I still haven’t said it.” Oh. That. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and I still can’t manage to do something so simple. I know it must be frustrating, and I don’t want you to think I’m not as committed to you or to our relationship. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t say it yet.”

“Spencer,” she says softly, resting a hand on his forearm. The fabric of his sweater is soft between her fingers. “I know it. I know how you feel about me. You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to. There’s more than one way to say I love you, you know. You tell me all the time. Not in those words, but I get the message.”

He seems unconvinced. “How?”

“You ask me to text you to make sure I get home safely. You call me almost every night when you’re away on a case just because you say you want to hear my voice. You hold me when I’m scared. You take me out to get Thai food even though you’d rather have Indian. You memorized every song in Les Mis because you knew it was my favorite musical. In all those gestures, I can hear it. And I can hear it when you make time for me no matter how busy you are. Sometimes you say it without saying anything at all.”

She leans closer to kiss him, softly at first, then deeper, deeper. In equal fervor he responds, and though the syllables do not fall from his tongue, his lips are perfectly capable of making the message clear. Every part of her tells her it’s true, that he loves her he loves her he loves her. No flower petal plucking needed to divine it.

One day, she’s walking across the sidewalk to hand him a cup of coffee. They’re going to walk to the Smithsonian, but it’s still early and they need caffeine before they’re ready to go anywhere. He holds the paper cup close to his face, breathes in the scent of a warm mocha.

“Ah. What would I do without you?” he says, flashing her a smile. She laughs, a grin that stretches across her whole face, and the morning sunlight hits her eyes just right at that very moment, and she just looks so adorable. Something in him lifts. “I love you.”

The smile falters, and the latte she’s holding tumbles from her hands, contents spilling on the sidewalk. She blinks. “What did you say?”

Bewildered, she stares up at him, and his heart swells. “I love you,” he repeats. He can’t explain why now or how, but the words have finally come and he can’t stop them. Months of sentiments fall from his mouth. “I love every part of you. I love the way your eyes light up when you’re excited and I love the way you laugh and I love how open your heart is. I love your patience and your hair and the way you kiss me when there’s no one else around. I love all of you. I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve never loved anyone this much. I love you, Y/N.”

It feels so good to say it.

It feels so good to hear it. Water springs to her eyes before she can stop the tears. Stepping over the puddle of coffee, she cups his face in her hands. “I know you do,” she murmurs. “You didn’t have to say it. But I’m glad you did. And I love you, too.”

In the middle of the sidewalk, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips to hers. They’re both laughing and crying and something in them has changed. She doesn’t care that people pass by, giving them odd looks as they stand there kissing. Whatever locked doors existed in his heart have finally been opened. He’s healing. He’s ready.

For him, she would wait a thousand years. No demands, no ultimatums. She has heard the sentiment before, listening carefully to his actions and reading between the lines.

But oh, how good it feels to finally hear those words out loud. And oh, how she loves him.

It’s been months and I’m not over how soft Thor was in Ragnarok, like with the lullaby and rubbing Bruce’s shoulders and stuff. Like I know it was pretty much meant as a joke, but like, that’s really all I ever want from my bromances? Just for my fave fictional dudes to actually be able to reassure each other with soft voices and gentle touches? Without hesitating or being awkward about it? And I just. Love Ragnarok so much for that. For giving me a soft Thor who was also completely ready to kick butt when Bruce was threatened and scared by that one big dude he ran into


This is a secret santa gift I wrote for potatomi on our Discord server!
It’s a fluffy, comforting little drabble, for a smile on Christmas ;)

Ao3 / FF.net

“You could have died!”, Chat Noir growled as he dabbed at Marinette’s knee with a cotton ball, trying to clean the open wound. She hissed, grabbing her pillow tighter.

“But someone had to protect you!”

He bared his teeth and looked up to her with an angry as well as hurt expression, his green cat eyes narrowing.

“That’s Ladybug’s job! You have nothing, nothing to do on a battlefield!”, he snapped, making Marinette recoil, “What you did was rash and careless. I can take a hit like this, I have an enforced suit! Why do you think I take all the hits for Ladybug?!”

She gulped, biting her lip as he continued spreading the stinging alcohol on her skin.

“But she wasn’t there yet.”, she tried again, only to have him groan.

“That doesn’t matter, Marinette! You shouldn’t have run in!”

“But the Akuma almost got you!”

“I DON’T CARE!”, he yelled.

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows as she leant back, her arms loosening around the pillow. Her set jaw relaxed, though, as she saw tears shining in Chat’s eyes, his hands trembling.

“I-… I don’t care…”, he whispered, stopping his work on her knee. She gulped and placed a hand on his shoulder, surprised when she felt that he was trembling on his whole body, “I-… I don’t care… If the Akuma was about to get me… All-… All I care about is-… That you’re okay…”

She sighed, her hand slipping up from his shoulder to caress his cheek, making him look up to her.


“I-… Marinette, I-… I can’t lose you… I can’t…”, he whispered, now laying the cotton ball aside to get a bandage out, softly beginning to wrap it around her knee despite his trembling fingers.

She sighed once again, leaning forward to press a kiss to his head. He looked up, sniffling.

“Chat… You won’t lose me… Ever.”

“Then-… Then don’t try to save me…”, his eyes pleaded her to listen to him, “Please… I’m a superhero and you’re not… I-… I can’t-…”

“I know, Chat.”, she mumbled, cupping both his cheeks with her hands now. He leant into her touch, a steady rumble beginning in his chest. His hands on her knee stilled, holding the bandage to keep the tension but not continuing.

“Please, Marinette.”, he desperately whispered again, his voice vibrating because of his purr, “Please.”

She nodded, her hands now slipping up into his hair to scratch him just behind his human ears. The purr got louder, making his chest vibrate against the thin layer of bandage that he had already applied. His chin rested on her thigh and she placed her head on top of his, nuzzling her nose into his hair. They remained snuggled up like this until his hands began working again, continuing to wrap her knee.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”, he asked, his nose brushing over her stomach. She shook her head by millimeters, making him feel it.

“No. Nowhere else. Promise.”, she replied, reassuring him with her gentle voice.

“If Ladybug hadn’t shown up-”

“But she did. And now stop thinking about what could’ve been. Alright?”

He sighed, moving a bit to the side to enable him to apply the bandage without being in the way with his chest. She pressed another little kiss to his head, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks.

“I can’t lose you, Marinette…”

“You already said that.”, she commented smugly, making him lean back and look up to her with a deadpanning gaze.

“Well, and I’m saying it again. Marinette, please stay out of the battle. Ladybug and I will take care of the Akumas and you don’t need to save me.”

She shook her head, now kissing his nose and making him blush.

“Well, bummer that we have the same motivations then. I can’t lose you as well.”

He only groaned again in annoyance, rolling his eyes but she cut him off before he could even say anything.

“Chat, I don’t care what you have to say about me being a civilian. I will always, always protect you, no matter what.”

He had no idea yet what that meant but he decided that trying to reason with her would be pointless. If Marinette could be something very vehemently, it would be stubborn. And it could be hell if she wasn’t willing to make up her mind.

“Just try and stay away next time?”, he asked, hopeful.

She grinned as she leant down to him, her breath tingling his lips.

“If I stayed away nobody would purify the Akuma, Chaton.”

As he realized what she meant with this he tried to part from her but she muffled his surprised shriek with a kiss.

anonymous asked:

doctor!tom: "but is saving one life worth your own?"

Tom was furious with you and he had every right to be, he had every right to not be talking to you right now, not after the stunt that you had pulled.

You had been called to the scene of an accident on the interstate and because you were on the trauma surgery rotation, you rode out with them in the ambulance. What everyone had thought was your typical wreck on the interstate, turned into a car almost blowing up with a young child in the backseat.

You had made the decision in a split second, choosing to risk your life to save another one because that was the oath you had made, to help others, no matter what. Luckily, you had grabbed the child just in time before the car blew, with only some minor injuries.

But Tom didn’t see it that way, he couldn’t see past the fact that you had risked your life in the field, that there was almost the possibility of you never walking through those hospital doors again. Or worse, the possibility of you never coming back to him again.

“Tom, look at me, please.” You knew he was frightened and angry, knew that he needed time to wrap his head around the thought that you could’ve died today. 

“You can’t, fuck you can’t do that to me okay? I can’t do that again, can’t hear them say that you’re coming in on a damn gurney because you got injured.” He sniffled, wiping his nose off on the back of his hand, reaching out to grab yours with his other one.

“Baby, come here, please.” Tom shuffled over, his head going in your lap, trying to stay calm but the moment you threaded your fingers through his hair, he started sobbing. 

“I’m here baby, I promise I’m here. I’m okay.” You cooed, your voice gentle as you tried your best to reassure him and not start crying yourself.

“I know,” He took a deep breath, picking his head up, his hand going to cup your cheek. “I know you love being on the trauma rotation and I know you love your job and would do anything to save anyone love. But is saving one life worth your own? Is putting yourself in danger to this extent is it… is it worth it? I can’t lose you, I won’t lose you.” His voice was low and full of conviction, eyes filled with fear.

“Okay, I’ll be more careful. I promise Tom, I promise that I’ll be more careful for you. Now will you,” You paused, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks. The adrenaline rush was gone and the severity of the situation was just now hitting you. “Will you please come up here and lay with me?”

Tom helped you scoot over on the bed before crawling in next to you, arms immediately wrapping around you as you shoved your face in his neck and sobbed, your whole body shaking.

“It’s all right love, ‘m here. You’re okay.” He whispered, pressing kisses against your head and holding you until the both of you fell asleep.

Chaos Theory Part 5

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5380

A/N: Finally oh my gosh this took freaking ages to put together! YAYY for Cedric and Draco coming back, I love writing them (esp Draco :P) I’m finding that, the more I write this, the more pairings I add to the story. In the end, I think I’m going to make it so you can choose who you want to end up and write different endings for each potential love interest. Annnyway, here you go. P.S. I’m super proud of my giffing skills atm, see the above! a gif by yours truly. 

Chapter Five:

There’s something whimsically surreal about the Burrow.

It seems to glisten from the ground up as though someone had sprinkled gold dust over it. From where you’re standing, you begin to appreciate how beautiful it is in the light; standing tall against the backdrop of rolling hills and lush, green grass, inviting you in without having to use words.

You’re standing in the backyard, waiting for someone, though you’re not sure who. It’s more like a feeling like you’re anticipating something you’re not sure will happen. There is a faint buzz humming in the air, like the beating wings of a thousand butterflies. The sky is like a painter’s palette; a blend of soft blues and vibrant pinks, like those honey-glazed moments right before the sun sets.

It’s like a poet’s dream.  

“(Y/N)?” says a familiar voice. You’re smiling before you even turn around, knowing who is standing behind you without even looking.  

“Cedric,” you sigh, whirling around and throwing yourself into his arms.  

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, kissing your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lips spilling over your skin like he can’t get enough of you.

“I know,” you whisper, softly, as his lips move against you like water, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, voice gentle in your ear as his hands card through your hair, “Besides, a mouse never trusts a hungry snake.”

You freeze as, suddenly, the voice in your ear trails off into a cold, sharp hiss, and the world around you plunges into darkness. Cedric untangles himself from your embrace, stepping back as his face distorts before you, revealing his true form.

You watch in horror as black bleeds into that deep, deep blue in his eyes, filling out every corner as though he were possessed by something sinister. His head distorts into a spade-like shape, neck elongating, his nose flattening into two thin slits and he sheds his bronze skin, a snake-like pattern stretched over his muscles and veins. His lips pull back into an insidious smile, cold and cruel like the edge of a scythe, revealing sharp fangs and a long, forked tongue that pokes out and curls in the air, testing, tasting for prey.

The fluttering noise gets louder, more insistent, like an orchestra of shrieking violins, warning you to run, run, run!

“You’d better wake up now, mouse” the snake monster hisses; it sounds like the blood-curdling shriek of nails scraping across a chalkboard, “Before you forget how to.”

You wake up to green eyes in the dark.

Keep reading

Heal My Wounded Soldier....

Okay, here it is guys, the follow up to Bring My Soldier Home. If you haven’t read that yet, I suggest you do. To everyone who liked and commented on BMSH, seriously guys I can’t thank you enough. I was not expecting that kind of response. I’m genuinely blown away. Thank you. Anyways, here’s the next part and as always, your feedback and comments are always appreciated.

Trigger Warning: This One-Shot deals with PTSD so be warned, this may be heavy reading for some.

She could feel the blistering heat, hear the ringing in her ears and feel the throbbing in her limbs and torso. The smoke that surrounded them was thick and heavy, she could barely breathe.

In the distance she could hear the screams of her fellow soldiers, the agony that they were in. To her left she could see one of them laying with his hand griping his thigh, a pool of blood beneath him and nothing where his lower leg should’ve been.

Beca couldn’t register anything, the adrenaline from freeing the driver from the truck and rushing back to rescue Chicago still pumping through her veins. It wasn’t until she herself had been dragged to safety down into a bunker after the truck exploded that the pain started to register.

“W-wha…” she tried to speak, but found she was in too much shock to form a coherent sentence. Two soldiers were hovering over her, one was assessing the damage, using makeshift tourniquets to stop the flow of blood from her arm and leg, while the other was calling for medical help.

“P-p-pic,” she tried to say and Chicago instantly recognised what she meant by the way her hand was trying to grab at her vest. He reached inside and unzipped a pocket that soldiers used to store things like pictures, letters from home. Some even had letters prepared in case they didn’t make it, the sad reality of the risk they were taking.

When his fingers came in contact with what he was searching for he pulled it out and instantly shoved it into Beca’s hand, the brunette turning it over to reveal a plastic pouch covering a picture of Chloe and their daughters. She gazed at the picture for a long moment before gripping it tightly, tears streaming down her face at the thought that she might never see them again.

“I’m sorry Chloe,” she cried, the pain intensifying the longer she went without any relief. In the distance she could hear the sound of gun fire coming to a halt as their attackers was subdued and then the unmistakable sound of a chopper coming from overhead.

She glanced up just in time to see soldiers rushing towards the bunker and dragging injured soldiers out, and then, her eyes started to grow heavy, a metallic taste in her mouth making her frown, and then nothing.

Beca bolted up from the bed, the action causing her considerable pain but no more so than the nightmare she had just woken up from. Sweat covered her skin, her sleep shirt practically stuck to her and her breathing laboured as she tried to both catch her breath and ease her pain.

She instantly placed a hand over the bandage on her torso, hoping she hadn’t burst her surgical stitches, relief flooded her when she realised she hadn’t. She raised a hand to her face and rubbed the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

Before she knew it, she could feel a warm body pressing against her back, an arm wrapping around her waist while the other came to settle over her shoulder, a hand resting against her heart. Warm lips pressed against her pulse point leaving a trail of soft kisses right up to her ear before a gentle voice whispered words of reassurance.

“It’s okay Bec’s, you’re safe.”

Beca reached up her hand and grabbed a hold of the one resting on her chest, squeezing it right before raising it to her lips and kissing it. She twisted her head a little so she could catch a glimpse of Chloe, whose head was resting on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she replied, more than aware that her nightmares had been keeping the both of them up since she had arrived home. It was like no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t escape it, couldn’t leave it behind. All she wanted to do was move forward with her family, but the hellhole she had escaped from kept following her around.

Chloe had been more than patient. She understood that it wasn’t easy. Beca had seen things, witnessed things that scarred her for her life. Her only wish was that she could help ease the pain. She had heard stories of soldiers who had suffered from PTSD and she didn’t want to watch her wife suffer the same strain, or worse, the same fate.

She wanted to help Beca, to ease the burden somehow, but it was hard. Beca didn’t want to unload those memories onto her, didn’t want Chloe to know the horrors she had seen. She wanted to protect her wife and daughters from all of that but Chloe could see that it was taking its toll.

“C’mon,” Chloe said as she gently tugged on her wife, “let’s go take a shower, it’ll relax you.”

Beca didn’t say anything just nodded and climbed out of the bed. She grabbed her crutch while Chloe grabbed her a change of sleepwear. They both entered the ensuite and Chloe switched on the shower to warm it up before helping Beca strip.

As her wife climbed under the stream of hot water, Chloe ran back into the bedroom and grabbed fresh bandages and tape then ran back to the ensuite, dumping them next to the sink as she stripped free of her own clothes, climbing into the shower behind her wife and hugging her tight from behind as the water cascaded down over them.

After a moment, Chloe reached around and grabbed the body wash, some herbal brand she had picked up at the health store that soothed aching muscles. She squeezed a generous amount onto her hands and began smoothing it across Beca’s shoulders and back, gently kneading the muscles as she went.

Beca released a grateful moan, the combination of the hot water and her wife’s touch doing just enough to calm her down. Once Chloe had finished rinsing off the soap, she pressed feather light kisses across her wife’s neck and shoulders.

One of the hardest things for Chloe was seeing the scars on her wife’s body. Every time she would return home from active duty, there would be new scars, new reminders of what she had been through. Chloe would ask about them but all she would receive was the censored version of events.

It sucked, but Chloe knew her wife wasn’t purposely trying to withhold information, she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about it in detail. It made Chloe’s heart ache because she knew, if she could just get Beca to open up, then she could start to help shoulder the weight of the nightmares her wife fought. She could start to help her heal.

Beca turned around, her arms wrapping around Chloe and tugging her close, the redhead wrapping her arms around a pale slender neck, caressing it gently. Then she felt it, the soft trickle of a tear drop hitting her skin and she instinctively squeezed Beca tighter.

She wasn’t sure why, but there was something that happened whenever Chloe and Beca were intimate together, whether it was in the shower together or after a round of passionate love making, when they were both naked and in their most vulnerable state, it was like all of Beca’s walls came down and she allowed herself that moment to be fragile, to be vulnerable.

Wrapped up in Chloe’s arms, their naked bodies flush together, that was where Beca felt safe. Because it was just the two of them alone, she could have that moment to lay bare her inner most feelings, figuratively and literally speaking.
Even if she didn’t say the words, she could release the emotions.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Chloe cooed as she pressed a kiss to the top of Beca’s head. They stayed like that until the water turned lukewarm and then Chloe shut off the water and guided them both out of the shower, towelling off before Chloe dressed Beca’s wounds.

That night they fell back to sleep, Chloe with her head resting on Beca’s chest as she rubbed soothingly up and down her side, using her weight to ground her wife and keep her in the moment rather than caught up in the nightmares of her past.

PTSD took many different forms and crept up unexpectedly. Sometimes it was brought on by an image on the news, sometimes loud noises. The thing was, Beca had spent so many years on high alert, that it was like she couldn’t snap out of it.

The crash of a glass to the floor would be enough to trigger a bad memory and have her reaching for a gun that she wasn’t carrying anymore. While Beca’s initial return home had been been fine, it seemed that the longer she was home, the more apparent her problems became.

A recent trip to the grocery store ended with Beca having a full blown panic attack in the car in the parking lot. People crowding her to welcome her home had made her fell suffocated, like she was back in that small bunker waiting out the bombs that were being reigned down on her squadron.

It took Chloe the best part of a half hour to calm her down and remind her that she was home and safe. All other plans for the day were scrapped in favour of returning home and laying on the couch.

The Fourth of July weekend was a family affair, all of their friends and extended family arriving for a BBQ and games with the kids. It had been a relaxed event with Beca throwing water balloons with the children and catching up with everyone’s lives.

Chloe had watched from the porch with a grateful smile on her face, happy to see her wife in a positive environment and spending quality time with the kids. Beca loved her daughters, loved making them laugh, loved singing songs with them and to them, loved playing games. She was definitely the playful parent.

When a kid friendly game of football broke out in the back garden, Beca was the one to rally the kids and arrange them into tactical formations, which usually involved getting the kids to grab a hold of the adults ankles and weigh them down while Beca slowly ran to the end zone with Charlie in her arms.

It was peaceful, and Chloe hated that these moments were now considered luxuries. Every day was usually drowned out by talk of politics and war and it was exhausting. All the negativity, it just consumed too much of their day. So she was more than eager to make the most of carefree days like this.

That night, as the sun set and darkness took hold of the sky, Chloe’s brothers, as well as some of the neighbours on the street, set to work on a fireworks display to end all firework displays.

Chloe had gotten little ear muffs for Charlie to drown out the really loud crack of the fireworks and to say she looked adorable in them was an understatement. All the kids were bursting with excitement, a combination of the fireworks, being allowed to stay up later than usual and the copious amounts of sugar they had consumed.

Luckily, Beca, Jesse, Stacie, Benji and Fat Amy had managed to run most of it out of them with some made up game Amy had come up with that involved the grown ups sitting on lawn chairs drinking beers while taking turns drenching the kids with a hose as they worked their way though an obstacle course if they stopped moving. Unethical, probably, effective, completely.

The kids had all huddled together like a pack waiting for the fireworks, the grown ups all standing around nearby keeping watch. It had been a fun filled day and Beca couldn’t help but wrap her arms around Chloe from behind and hold her close, pressing sweet kisses to her neck.

“You want a top up babe?” She asked, noticing that the redheads glass of wine was running low. Chloe had stayed sober all day, more concerned with being the perfect host. Beca had downed a couple of beers but had decided by the evening that it was her wife’s turn to have a little fun so she cut herself off. Her wife looked down at her glass and nodded her head.

“Please, but hurry back the fireworks are about to start,” Chloe said as she handed Beca the glass, the brunette turning on her heel and making her way back inside the house. Aubrey smiled at the couple, loving nothing more than seeing them back together.

“She looks happy, relaxed,” Aubrey said from her place next to her best friend. Chloe gave her a small smile and nodded her head, though her actions were a little stiff.

“She is, it’s so good having her home. The girls are in heaven and it’s nice you know, going to bed at night and waking up every morning and having her there,” Chloe replied but Aubrey could sense the redheads hesitance.

“But…” She said, encouraging Chloe to elaborate. The redhead sighed as her gaze remained fixed on the kids just a few feet away from them.

“Some days are better than others. She’s struggling and I can’t get her to open up to me. There are moments when we’re alone when it feels like she might be ready, but she just closes back up. I just, I want to help her,” she sighed and Aubrey reached out to stroke her arm.

“I know you do Chloe. But we also need to be patient. Beca has seen things, probably done things that we can’t even fathom. I don’t think she’s intentionally trying to build walls, I think she’s just struggling to find the right way to deal with everything she’s feeling.”

Chloe nodded because she wholeheartedly agreed with what Aubrey was saying, but she was growing impatient, not with her wife, but with the situation they were in. She wanted to make things better and didn’t know how until Beca approached her about it.

Before she could get lost in her musings the familiar flash of the fireworks caught her attention and she leaned down to pick Charlie up from stroller, holding her close and pointing out all the colours. The little girl stared up at the sky in awe having never seen anything like it before.

After five minutes had passed, she noticed that Beca still hadn’t returned. Handing Charlie off to Aubrey, she jogged inside the house, calling out Beca’s name, but there was no response.

When she approached the kitchen, she caught sight of what she thought was shattered glass on the floor and blood smeared on the tiles. Rushing around the island, the mess came in to you view and her heart jumped into her throat.

“Bec’s, BECA,” she shouted out rushing into the living room, the dining room, then back into the kitchen before heading for the stairs and bounding up the steps two at a time. She checked every room in her path before she finally hit the last room, their room and she opened the door.

There, sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed in dark, was her wife. Chloe slowly walked across the room, closing the distance between them, coming to a crouching position next to the brunette, the sight breaking her heart.

Beca was sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest and her hands covering her ears. One of them was dripping blood down a pale arm. Beca’s eyes were closed and her cheeks were stained with tears.

If she listened closely, Chloe could hear the faint whispers of Beca begging for something but she didn’t know what, but the pleading of ‘Please, Please, Please’ indicated that she was more than likely pleading for whatever was scaring her to go away.

Reaching out, Chloe gently pried her wife’s hands from over her ears and called her name repeatedly to get her attention, firm but gentle in her approach. Beca eventually opened her eyes and Chloe could see how broken she was in that moment.

“Chlo,” came Beca’s hoarse response of recognition. Chloe nodded her head and gave her a reassuring smile, stroking her hair gently. Beca reached up and grabbed a hold of Chloe’s shirt, tangling herself up in it as she tried to hold onto her reality. The redhead reached her own hands down and cupped the ones tugging on her shirt. Beca’s gaze was locked firmly on her hands and the blood that was coating them and her wife’s shirt.

“Chlo, I think, I think I’m broken,” she whispered and Chloe couldn’t contain the tears that welled up in her eyes. She tilted her head back and gazed up at the ceiling, hoping to stop their assault, she needed to be strong for her wife, she needed to be composed, even if Beca’s words were currently causing an unbearable ache in her chest.

“It’s okay baby, we’re gonna fix you okay. We’re gonna get you help and we’re gonna, we’re gonna work together okay. We’ll do whatever it takes, you and me alright,” she said, the conviction in her voice giving no room for argument.

Beca looked up at her with the most fragile look on her face, seeking out any sign of uncertainty in Chloe’s eyes. But she didn’t find any, just determination, and that was enough to make Beca feel safe and secure.

“O-okay,” she mumbled before burying her forehead against Chloe’s chest, the redhead wrapping her arms tight around her wife, allowing her to hide for as long as she needed to.

Chloe never wanted it to get to this, but she knew the signs, had read up on it. PTSD was dangerous and it had the ability to destroy people. But she wouldn’t allow the suffering to consume them. She would not allow her wife’s sacrifice for millions be her downfall.

She would make sure Beca got the help she needed, that she deserved. She would not allow her wife, the mother of her children, become one of the forgotten heroes. Chloe Mitchell would fix her wife, no matter how long it took, no matter how hard it got. Holding Beca tighter, she pressed her face into her wife’s dark locks.

“I love you Bec’s, I’m gonna put you back together. I promise.”
Counselling had been a strange affair, Beca wasn’t one for opening up to just anyone, especially people she just met. But her breakdown on the Fourth of July had been enough to scare her into taking action. She didn’t want to be weak, she wanted to be strong for her wife and daughters.

So she went every week and talked her shit out with a counsellor who specialised in helping soldiers. It was draining at times, relieving so many of the horrors she had witnessed really sucked the life out of her. But being able to expel of it really did make it easier to deal with.

To Chloe’s surprise, Beca had even asked her to sit in on some sessions, not the really heavy ones because she was still weary of revealing everything, but it was a step in the right direction and Chloe was more than happy to participate and help in whatever way she could.

The changes in Beca were even noticeable at home. Whenever she would become overwhelmed, she would stop what she was doing and count to ten, taking deep breaths as she did and then excuse herself from the situation so she could have some space to collect herself.

It seemed pretty minimal but it worked, the number of panic attacks having reduced significantly. Loud noises and anything that resembled gunfire or an explosion was still a problem but it was one they were working on and that was all that mattered.

One day, during a therapy session Chloe was sitting in on, the counsellor had asked Beca what her biggest fear was. There was a long pause as she thought about it and then with tears in her eyes and a quiver in her voice she answered.

“That I’ll lose whatever grip I have left on my sanity. That one day I’ll snap and hurt Chloe or our daughters. That I’ll lose all sense of self control and won’t be able to stop myself. I never, EVER, wanna hurt them but I’m afraid if I don’t fix whatever it is that’s broken I won’t be able to control myself.”

Chloe sobbed at this, because that had been something she had also feared. She knew in her heart that her Beca, the one she had been in love with since she first laid eyes on her in college, would never ever harm her or their daughters. But she also knew that PTSD could cause even the kindest of people to break, to lose control and cause the kind of hurt they once never would’ve been capable of.

It was the curse of war, it messed with peoples minds and made them lose sight of who they were. Beca admitting her fears and recognising that it could at some point become an issue, made Chloe feel so proud. Proud that her wife was prepared to talk about the hard stuff so that she could be helped and more importantly, it made Chloe feel safe. Safe in the knowledge that Beca would always do whatever she had to do to put her family’s welfare first.

So as she sat next to her wife on that couch, she squeezed Beca’s hand that was linked with her own between them and gave her a tearful smile that told her she was proud of her, and that she wasn’t afraid. Raising their joined hands, Chloe pressed a kiss to the back of Beca’s in reassurance.

“I love you.”
Beca had been in counselling for going on three months, when one night, as Chloe sat in the living room with the glow of an open fire, the tv playing quietly in the background and a stack of papers she was almost finished grading on the coffee table in front of her, she approached her wife and said the four words Chloe had been longing to hear.

“I’m ready to talk.”

After those four words were uttered, they spent the next several hours wrapped up in one another on the couch as Beca willingly rehashed every detail of the things she had seen overseas, the things she had done that made her feel like a monster.

There were times when Chloe’s stomach bottomed out at what she heard, her heart aching for her wife and the decisions she’d had to make, not because she wanted to, but because she knew that if she didn’t the number of casualties would’ve been far greater.

Now she understood why Beca was so broken. Because her wife had been forced to make decisions that conflicted with what her intentions had been. Beca wanted to make the world a better place but her tours had meant that she often had to carry out actions she never would’ve even contemplated before joining the army.

It was the internal conflict of hating what she had to do, but understanding that sometimes, you simply cannot save everyone and that at certain moments, you must make decisions that hurt a few for the safety of the majority. It sucked, but that was war.

There were no happy endings, no winners. People might’ve been able to console themselves with the fact that they beat the bad guy or that they won the war, but the reality of the situation was far more depressing, because all war created, was losers.

Children lose parents, parents lose their sons and daughters. Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, aunts, uncles, cousins, nobody was safe form the devastation of war. Sure there may be bad guys who were taken down in the end, but it’s always the civilians and innocent bystanders who never caused any harm who suffered the most.

In that moment Chloe had a better understanding than ever before and her respect for her wife soared to all new heights. Reaching across she cupped Beca’s face in her hands and gazed deep into her eyes.

“You are the, bravest, most selfless person I have ever known. You make me proud and you make our daughters proud every single day. No matter what happened over there I know in my heart that you did what you thought you needed to do to protect as many people as possible,” she said, her tone giving no room for argument or debate as she stroked her wife’s cheeks with her thumbs wiping away her tears.

“You are not a monster Beca Mitchell. You are a loving mother and wife and friend. Your moral integrity and willingness to do whatever it takes to ensure everyone can live freely blows me away. You are a role model to our daughters and you inspire me to do better every day. Your strength gives me strength. Not a single thing you’ve told me changes that. I love you and I will always love.”

Beca leaned forward and rested her forehead against her wife’s, sniffling as a few more tears escaped her. Hearing those words from Chloe healed something inside of her in that moment and made her fall in love all over again. She may have been Chloe’s hero, but Chloe was her saviour.

“I love you Chlo, so much,” Beca whispered before connecting their lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Chloe could feel all the air rushing from her lungs as she kissed back. The kisses grew hungrier and hands began to roam, it was in that instant that Chloe muttered about moving it upstairs to their bedroom.

As they bounded up the stairs, they eagerly tugged at buttons and fastenings, discarding of various items of clothing once inside the privacy of their bedroom, making sure to lock the door to prevent any late night visitors.

Chloe climbed onto the bed followed by her wife and Beca hovered over her, never breaking their kiss as they moved until all of a sudden, Beca stopped, pulled her head back and gazed lovingly up and down the length of Chloe’s naked body, reaching up her hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered earnestly, her wife blushing at the honesty in her tone, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Chloe reached up her hand and pressed it against her wife’s ches feeling the cool metal of Beca’s St. Michael medallion she still wore beneath her palm, a constant reminder of how blessed they were that the brunette had been one of the fortunate ones.

“No, I’m the lucky one.”

With that she wrapped her arm around Beca’s neck tugging her down and they made love for hours. It was passionate, it was raw, it was pure. For the first time in a long time it felt like all of the barriers that had been erected through Beca’s experiences had been stripped away and they were just Beca and Chloe again.

They knew that Beca still had a long road ahead in her recovery, and that even with counselling, she would still carry around the physical, mental and emotional scars of her time serving in the military. But with time and the right kind of love, the pain would lessen, until the scares of her past were looked upon as medals of her bravery.

With a loving wife and two beautiful daughters, she had the whole world in her hands. They gave her hope, the were her reason for fighting back against the darkness, and this was one battle Beca Mitchell was determined to win.

anonymous asked:

Hello!! Hope you're having a good day :) I know I already requested this in the haikyuu!! blog, but I'd really like to see it with Akashi and Kise. It's the "their best friend just played the first official match against another school and the friend is upset because didn't the best they can and the boys comfort and cheer the friend up" scenario :3

Okay, so I owe you an explanation, bc I’ve been absent for a long time. I’m really sorry, I just wanted to focus on my school, kind of neglected my health bc of it - I still love writing and working on this blog - just didn’t have a time. Don’t give up on me, I beg of you. I need you support like I’ve never had before.
I hope you will like it and continue to read my stories.

Akashi Seijuro

“You were amazing out there, I’m very proud of you.” Akashi sent you a small smile, massaging your knuckles as a sign of silent support.

“Thanks.’’ The response was quick enough to signalise that something was definitely wrong and the fake smile decorating your face only confirmed it. Today was your first, official match and even though your team has won, satisfaction was not the feeling radiating from your body right in that moment.

Seijuro placed on your left -  could definitely sense your unhappy mood, however, decided not to push the topic and let you calm down for now. Although, his hand quickly left yours just to find a place, wrapped tightly around your waist. Thanks to his move, you visibly relaxed and put your head in the crook of his neck. The whole frustration was slowly getting rid of after you inhaled sharply, trying to slow down your heartbeat. The stress was definitely not good for your health at all. You just knew it deep inside that you weren’t enough today. You could’ve done so much better for your teammates.

Disappointment filled your sore limbs, heavy chest, and worried mind - hurting everything on its way and filling the corner of your eyes with crystal tears. The mental pain along with the tiredness of previous events left you shaken and reminded how fucked up you really were.

Akashi thought that you will get better in time, but you internal argument was clearly going in a very bad direction. He cleared his throat to focus your attention on him and you looked up immediately, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. His hands relocated again, tracing fingers up and down your plump, rosy cheeks and then pushing your head a little higher so you could get a better look of his serious expression.

’‘I know what you are thinking right now.” You opened your mouth, ready to splutter explanation on your part, but he put his thumbs on your lips, silencing you. “Don’t interrupt me, never.” His voice was cold, but the gentle smile on your face reassured you. “I won’t compliment you-” He continued. “-or sweet talk, I just want to give you a praise for all the hard work you went through and for your courage. Before you start thinking of yourself in an unpleasant way, remember me and your own team appreciate you and are thankful for your determination. You deserved to win and you did your absolute best today.  Everyone admires you and it would be rather rude if you just ignored their words and congratulations, because you simply can’t see how amazing you are.”

“I–” You sobbed, wiping hot tears from underneath your eyes before they could hit the floor and shot Seijuro a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Originally posted by zechs

Kise Ryouta

“Hey s\o-cchi!” Kise called your name loudly, causing some of the unfamiliar faces to frown at his behaviour, but you only pushed past the crowd including him, ignoring the hurt expression he immediately wore.

And before he could even run to you and stark asking questions, you opened the door to girls’ changing room and closed it aggressively, disappearing.

Kise, on the other hand, watched your vanishing figure with a stunned face, wondering what made your mood so sour. The game was pretty great, you played amazingly good, even though it was your first official match - so he was left clueless about the whole situation.

Maybe you were just tired? Or someone bothered you? If someone really did, he would definitely fight them. Or ask Aominecchi to do so.
Either way, he needed to wait to know the answer and he was ready to do it.

However, after five minutes, twenty minutes and then one hour - he lost his already ripped into pieces patience. With a puffed chest, he burst through the changing room’s door and looked around just to spot you sitting on one of the wooden benches next to showers, with a lowered head - breathing rapidly as heavy sobs rocked your body. Without much thinking he approached you, standing in front of your, now tiny form, in two steps.

“S/o-cchi, what’s wrong?”

“Go away!” You screamed not caring about your surroundings, he only pursed his lips, kneeling next to you - fist clenched nervously.

“Please, whatever happened - let me help.”

You took another deep breath, more steady that time, probably considering whether to tell him or not. Finally, voting against the latter, you prepared yourself to confess. “I just - feel so lost! And I know it sounds stupid, but I felt exactly the same out there, on court around all those people! I didn’t do my best, I’m totally worthless. Why am I even on this team?” You cried, spluttering last sentences as if they were on fire, and lastly throwing yourself at Kise, sobbing quietly into his arm.

He needed a solid minute to comprehend what has just occurred and find the perfect solution for this. “But that’s not true! You were wonderful out there! Everyone loved your performance, thanks to you, your team has won!”

“Stop lying! I was terrible and I—”

“Hey, stop! You were and are cool, okay? Believe in yourself a little more and everything will be just fine. And if you can’t do it, let me believe in you twice as much.” He finished and ruffled your hair playfully, making you chuckle for the first time that day. “Ice cream?”

“If you are willing to pay, Ryouta.”

“Sure, sure.”

Originally posted by kugurii

EXO’s Reaction to Their GF Wanting to Learn Guitar


Though Xiumin himself doesn’t play guitar, he’d be more than supportive that you were interested in trying a new instrument. He’d sit by, smiling slightly, as you practiced the new fingerings. He’d gently offer advice and remind you that practice makes perfect. Periodically he’d make you a small cup of coffee or a snack and insist you eat/drink it, making you take a break so your fingers wouldn’t fall off. 


Chen would be very supportive about your new interest, but wouldn’t be able to help his giggling as you continued to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star out of tune. You’d pout at him, annoyed by his discouraging actions. He’d quickly apologize, knowing that new instruments were tough to start out with. He’d sit by you and help you with your fingering, making sure to tease you just enough to keep the mood light so you wouldn’t get frustrated.


Admiring your determination to learn a new instrument, Baekhyun would (surprisingly) not tease you about your wrong notes and sloppy fingering. He’d let you practice on your own, not wanting you to feel awkward or embarrassed. Later, when you were confident enough to give a small “performance”, Baekhyun would be all smiles. When you shyly played the last note, he’d immediately stand up and start clapping, proud of how fast you learned.


Already having mastered the instrument, Chanyeol would be more than happy to offer his help when you suggested trying to play it yourself. He’d bolt into his room and emerge with his guitar in one hand and a music book in the other. Though you’d begin to get frustrated with your seemingly lack of progress, Chanyeol would reassure you with a gentle voice that you were doing well, kissing you before demonstrating where to put your fingers on the fretboard.


Also a guitar aficionado, Lay would happily agree to teaching you some beginner songs on the guitar. He wouldn’t be able to stop smiling as he watched you struggle with beginning chords, finding your concentration adorable. He’d make sure not to interfere too much, wanting you to learn things on your own as well. When you finally managed to play the song from start to finish, he’d clap happily, smiling cutely at you and praising you on how good of a learner you are, causing you to blush with his sincerity. 


D.O would immediately want to take you to a music store, letting you pick out whichever guitar you wanted. The idea of doing a duet with you–you on guitar and him singing–excited him, and he supported and encouraged you with your new endeavor. He’d let you practice on your own so you wouldn’t feel too shy, but would check in periodically to see how you were doing. Occasionally he’d drag you out of your room, not wanting your fingers to start bleeding from how much you were practicing.


Finding your new interest quite endearing, Suho would happily indulge you, buying everything you needed (and then some) to learn the guitar. He’d quietly sit buy as you practiced, praising you when you did well but not offering much advice. He figured it’d be better if you just learned on your own, not to mention he didn’t know much about the instrument himself. He would let out the occasional “ahh” or “ooh” whenever you managed to play a string of chords correctly, making you smile from his support.


Although Kai would be supportive about you wanting to learn a new instrument, he wouldn’t interfere much, letting you have your own practice time. He’d check in every once in a while to see how you were doing, and ask to hear a few songs you were working on. He’d wouldn’t be able to suppress a smile at the sight of you staring at the sheet music in concentration, carefully moving your fingers into the correct positions as you slowly strummed Mary Had A Little Lamb. 


As much as Sehun wanted to help you with the new instrument, he’d restrain himself and simply watch as you figured out songs on your own. He’d occasionally suggest an easier fingering, but not so much as to bother you. He would, however, get bored if you played too long and would try to distract you so he could get some attention too. You’d be slowly strumming along and, before you could react, his hands would be on your sides, initiating an intense tickle fight that would end with you scolding him for interrupting your playing.

mysticmessofcrap  asked:

Asthmatic MC about to have sex with RFA (V+Saeran included) but they start to have an asthma attack. Like, they can't breath and they have to get talked through it to breath again.

Thank you so much for the ask :D It was rather challenging, since I don’t know much about asthma so I had to ask my best friend Google for help there, but I like a challenge. I also hope that it’s okay that not all of them ‘talked her through it’ per se…some people handle stress situation better than others :P



♬ you were very excited as Zen was above you, giving you that dirty smirk you knew meant fun

♬ he began trailing kisses down your body, nibbling at skin and leaving his mark

♬ you weren’t allowed to do that, because he’d just have to cover it up with make-up, but he fucking loved doing it to you

♬ a private mark to remind him that you were his

♬ he kissed your thighs, his hot breath tickling your skin

♬ you could feel the arousal soaring through you, heart rate picking up

♬ when he goes down on you it’s like an explosion, really

♬ he’s damn good at it, sucking and licking at your clit while fingering you

♬ that is when you first start noticing that maybe you gasping for air wasn’t just a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure

♬ you brush it off at first

♬ you haven’t had an asthma attack in years

♬ instead you attempt to focus on the pleasure, rocking onto his wicked tongue licking inside of you now

♬ that is when you start to notice that damn familiar tight feeling in your chest

♬ soon followed by panting

♬ and then the damn wheezing sets in

♬ fuck

♬ you feel Zen freeze between your legs and look up at you in confusion

♬ you know what he must be thinking right now; what kind of unsexy sex noises is she producing

♬ what you didn’t expect was to him to immediately stop and to pull you up into a sitting position

♬ he kneeled in front of you, looking up at you with worry in his eyes

♬ he cupped your face, inspecting you before nodding with determination

♬ apparently he figured out what exactly the problem was

♬ “Do you have an inhaler with you?”

♬ you tried to answer, but only more wheezing came out so you shook your head

♬ another short nod on his part

♬ “Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 3 seconds in, hold it and 3 seconds out. Yes, just like that.”

♬ he talked you through the entire thing and you’ve never been more thankful for anything

♬ or more embarrassed, for that matter

♬ you apologized a couple of times, but he stopped you every time

♬ “The only thing you should be apologizing for is not having told me you used to have asthma attacks”, he says, voice gentle.

♬ Despite you reassuring him that you were alright he insisted on bringing you to the nearest hospital

♬ not only that, but he carried you there

♬ in his arms

♬ the entire way

♬ once there the doctor gave you a new inhaler, suggested some treatments and told Zen he did good

♬ it made him feel proud to know he’d done good by you

♬ you thanked him for a kiss to the cheek

♬ he blushed

♬ “Lucky for you actors get stage fright so I know about a million different way to breathe and calm you down!”


★ when the two of you decided to finally share your first time together both of you were nervous

★ neither of you really knew what you were doing

★ it didn’t matter though, since you loved each other and were happy to share such a special moment

★ you’d gone about it a little methodically, reading up on the internet, preparing condoms, lube, music and such

★ you were still nervous though, because you’d read that the first time hurt and you were so bad with pain

★ both of you decided that it was best to start with making out, take your time and get into it

★ everything was fine at first

★ you were kissing, slow and sweet

★ then things started becoming a little more heated, passion taking over, tongues fighting for dominance

★ you could feel yourself getting wet, turned on, but also breathless

★ when he broke the kiss and started kissing down your neck your breath started to get faster

★ and faster

★ and faster

★ and yet your lungs didn’t seem to be filling with air

damn it

★ you began wheezing and apparently that got Yoosung’s attention because he stopped and stared up at you

★ had this not been such a serious situation, you might have laughed at his expression

★ he looked like a deer caught in the headlight, really

★ sadly this wasn’t funny and breathing became even harder

★ then Yoosung started to panic as well, gripping your shoulders and shaking you

★ what on earth was he doing

★ “Oh my God, breathe! You have to breathe! Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.”

★ you sincerely hoped that animals didn’t have asthma…because they would have been dead

★ “Oh God, you’re not breathing. Why aren’t you breathing?”

★ possibly because he was shaking you like a rag-doll, but you weren’t quite sure

★ when he noticed that telling you to breathe and calm didn’t help when he himself was a wreck of nerves and anxiety you began pointing towards your bag

★ luckily you still carried your inhaler

★ at first he was confused but after about half a minute he finally got what you were getting at

★ he ran towards your bag and took the poor thing apart until he finally found the inhaler

★ he handed it to you, watching you take a puff from it every thirty seconds

★ usually you’d only have to do it once a minute, but he’d gotten you worked up

★ after ten puffs you stop, finally feeling like you can breathe again, and exhale

★ meanwhile Yoosung is kneeling in front of you, head hanging low

★ you reach out and brush through his messy hair

★ “I really messed that up, didn’t I? Man, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better next time.”


♨ this woman is literally prepared for anything, even things you’d never expect

♨ when you first decided to have sex with one another you were both knew to it

♨ not sex, but sex with other women

♨ you’d gone in head first, Jaehee had read up on it on the internet

♨ you were a good team, calm meeting crazy

♨ which is why it didn’t surprise you at all when she pulled out an inhaler during your asthma attack

♨ you’d been getting cozy on the couch, watching the latest of Zen’s play on DVD

♨ one thing led to the other and you were kissing

♨ you were straddling Jaehee, grinding against her in desperate need for friction

♨ it felt great and you wanted more than just that, wanted to feel her against you bare and naked

♨ the thought got you aroused, worked up even

♨ sadly, a little too much, as it seemed

♨ suddenly you found herself coughing and wheezing

♨ the fact that you were having an asthma attack when it’d been years worked you up

♨ you got nervous, and the symptoms got worse

♨ luckily Jaehee reacted quickly

♨ she gently pushed you off herself to sit upright on the couch

♨ she calmly disappeared for a couple of seconds only to return from the bathroom with an inhaler in hand

♨ you didn’t have a lot of time to worry about where she’d gotten it from or why

♨ you accepted it, putting it into your mouth and inhaled

♨ meanwhile she held up her wrist, staring at her watch

♨ “You’re not too far gone so I’d say one puff every forty seconds should be enough.”

♨ You had no idea how she remained so calm, but you appreciated it a lot

♨ “Take another puff exactly…now!”

♨ you did and about five minutes later you felt much much better

♨ once you could breathe and talk again you couldn’t help but ask

♨ Jaehee merely shrugged, a sweet blush to her cheeks

♨ “I noticed that you run out of breath at work much quicker than I do. I wasn’t sure whether I was right with my asthma theory, but when I googled the symptoms did add up and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”


♛ it had taken months to convince Jumin to have sex

♛ even just thinking it made you feel dirty

♛ not that he’d been repelled by you or the idea of sex with you, but he really wanted to wait until marriage

♛ when you explained to him that you weren’t quite ready to say yes though, he soon caved

♛ maybe the cat ears, tail and little bell to wear around your neck had something to do with it too…

♛ but who cares about minor details like that

♛ the second he came home and saw you in that outfit, his moral soon flew out of the window

♛ honestly, he just did it because he wanted to be better than his father anyway

♛ Jumin had admitted to never having had sex before, so you’d been worried it might not be good

♛ you worried for nothing, let me tell you

♛ you couldn’t tell whether he’d watched porn recently or read up on it or whether it was just pure talent

♛ but he was wicked good and you hadn’t even been naked at that time

♛ he was worshipping your body, touching you everywhere, feathery light

♛ caressing every inch of skin he could get his hands on, always tender and loving

♛ you were so overwhelmed with emotion you felt like you might actually cry

♛ especially when he stopped the naughty bits to press a kiss to your hand, just as a reminder that it wasn’t just about sex

♛ that is when you felt like all air got sucked out of your lungs…

♛ …and no new air was coming in

♛ how unfortunate

♛ he’d stopped when he’d noticed something was off, that you’d gone tense

♛ you weren’t wheezing yet, but from how you remembered your attacks, it would set in soon

♛ Jumin was looking at you, frowning slightly as he didn’t seem to understand what the issue was

♛ when you gasped out for an inhaler, it quickly made click

♛ he got out his phone and called for his servants employees to get you an inhaler

♛ while waiting for them he talked you through the attack

♛ his voice had always been low and soothing, but in that moment it was even more so

♛ by the time someone came the inhaler you were mostly calmed down again

♛ he still told you to take a puff or two for good measures

♛ “See, that is what happens when you have sex before marriage. Now please tell your doctor to send me your medical records immediately. I need to take precautions.”


☼ he’d been holed up in his room for almost a week

☼ apparently working on some virus that was harder to program than he’d anticipated

☼ when he’d finally come out, Seven had been stressed and tense

☼ you’d figured it’d be a nice gesture to…relief some of the stress

☼ you’d pushed him down onto the couch, straddling him

☼ after making out for a while, things turning heated rather quick, you decided to climb down and go

☼ you went on his knees, ready to give him the blowjob of his life

☼ Seven’s looked wrecked from the kiss alone, so you were hoping that would blow his mind entirely

☼ his eyes were half lidded, lips parted and spit slick and God was that vision hot

☼ when you took him into your mouth he moaned, hand coming to fist your hair

☼ you groaned around his length, sending vibrations down his shaft

☼ apparently he liked that a lot, because he bucked his hips and thrust into your mouth

☼ you didn’t like that

☼ mainly because for even just a split second you felt like you were choking

☼ and that set you off

☼ you found yourself pulling off, panting and gasping for air

☼ then the wheezing set in and Seven finally reacted

☼ not that it was optimal

☼ in his half-panic he reached for an empty bag of Honey Buddha Chips and pressed it to your mouth

☼ you really would have loved to been able to roll your eyes

☼ however, all you could was breathe in and out of the damn bag

☼ you could still taste the faint note of chips with every breath

☼ eventually you’d calmed down enough to get rid of the bag, glaring daggers at your idiot of a boyfriend

☼ “Did you seriously just press a dirty chips bag against my face to breathe into?”

☼ at least he had the decency to look ashamed, scratching the back of his head nervously

☼ “Not really clever of me. In my defense, I’m sleep deprived. Still…not my prouder moment. Sorry.”


☀ You were lying in bed, wrapped up in your own world

☀ making out with Saeran was something you appreciated a lot

☀ for one it took a lot of trust in you to let you this close

☀ he also was a great kisser

☀ whether it be feathery light and just a brush of lips or passionate, licking into your mouth and claiming it with his tongue

☀ this time, however, you were surprised when he began touching you

☀ his hand disappeared under your shirt, slowly roaming upwards

☀ his touch left a pleasant shiver behind wherever it went

☀ when his hand wrapped around your bare breast, fingers playfully twisting your nipple you gasped

☀ you arched into the touch, biting your lip to muffle any embarrassing sounds

☀ you hadn’t been touched like that in a long time, so your body was hypersensitive

☀ suddenly his hand was gone though and you were about to pout when you felt it sneak under your skirt and ~ oh!

☀ He used two fingers to push inside you while his thumb circled your clit

☀ it took your breath away

☀ which was fine, until he literally took your breath away

☀ this attack came so fast you barely saw it coming

☀ clutching your chest you gasped for air

☀ Saeran just blinked and calmly removed his hand from your body

☀ he then turned around leaving you facing his back

☀ you felt hurt for a moment, almost close to tears until suddenly he turned back and pressed an inhaler between your lips and pressed it, forcing you to inhale a deep breath

☀ a minute later he did it again, expression almost eerily calm and neutral

☀ you calmed soon after, still staring at him with wide eyes though

☀ what had just happened?

☀ when you asked him where he’d gotten the inhaler from he told you he’d brought it a couple of months ago

☀ you asked him whether he had asthma but he said that wasn’t the case, leaving you even more confused

☀ “I hacked into your medical record and saw that you had asthma so I took care of it. I need you alive. you also didn’t tell me you were allergic to eggs. That was reckless of you.”

☀ you just kind of gaped at him at that admission

☀ well, he certainly had a unique way of showing you that he loved you

☀ “And look, I got it in your favourite colour too.”

Jihyun Kim/V

📷 the entire day you’d felt somewhat breathless

📷 it had been rather stressful at the party, so you figured that must have been the reason

📷 especially as you’d watch V get on stage to sell his last photographs

📷 now he had none saved and left to sell and was incapable of taking more

📷 while he’d moved on from Rika and you’d actually gotten him to agree to the surgery, it’d been to late

📷 at that point, a couple of years after the actual incident, the doctors had said there was nothing they could do anymore, it was permanent

📷 you figured the heavy feeling on your chest was your heart sinking at said fact

📷 when you’d gotten home you’d still felt somewhat sad, but V had just laughed and shaken his head

📷 he’d seen this event as something to be celebrated, to be happy about

📷 after all he’d been able to follow his dreams and passions and take photographs until the very end

📷 when he put it that way, you couldn’t help but agree

📷 you’d kissed him then, innocent and light

📷 V, however, had other things in mind

📷 soon you’d found yourself pressed against the nearest wall, a leg between yours for you to grind against

📷 you shamelessly did so, panting and gradually getting more out of breath

📷 by the time you noticed what was going on, that you’d been wrong about those signs throughout the day it was too late

📷 the asthma attack hit you hard, the weight on your chest almost unbearable, forcing you to your knees

📷 you’d felt like you were suffocating and no matter how often you took breaths, nothing stuck

📷 to your surprise, V had remained completely calm

📷 he’d followed you on your knees and didn’t come too close, instead keeping enough distance to let you breathe

📷 he breathed along with you, showed you how to do it, soother you with his calm words

📷 when you’d calmed enough not to choke on him he got up and returned with an old looking inhaler

📷 you’d taken a couple of puffs and handed the inhaler back

📷 “I used to have asthma as a kid. This thing is old though, so we better get you a new one just in case.”


I’m sorry if there are some mistakes, I’m hella tired at this point and have been staring at this for hours XD I really hope you like it nevertheless 

This is so cute!

(I’m going to have Enjoltaire in this because I’m trash, if you guys didn’t already know.)

“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”

Grantaire keeps his gaze locked forward as he breathes into his cupped hands to bring warmth back to his icy fingers. His muscles ache deeply, and the sharp shivers running rampant across his body are doing nothing to ease the settling pain. He jerks through a shrug. “It’s cold out here.”

“It’s not that cold.” Enjolras says, voice flat and matter-of-fact, and Grantaire can practically hear the frown in his boyfriend’s tone.

But, he still refuses to look at Enjolras as the two continue on down the sidewalk, with the sun dipping low behind a towering building as the streams of pink coloring the light blue sky fade away to night. He contemplates arguing that it is in fact cold outside, but when a group of girls all sporting short dresses and bare legs walk by, his mouth presses closed, and he clamps his teeth together as he mentally wills his body to warm up.

“Are you sick?” Enjolras asks, voice holding a hint of concern that’s evident enough to have Grantaire turning toward him with a groan.

The plan was to give Enjolras an incredulous look while motioning wildly to his face and asking if he looked sick, but the mere turn of his head has him stumbling against a wave of dizziness, and he just misses Enjolras’s outstretched hand to fall on his hands and knees.


Enjolras is crouched and at his side in a second, and Grantaire pushes up until he’s balancing on an unsteady teeter on the balls of his feet with a sheepish smile. “One of these days, my clumsiness is going to be the death of me.”

“You aren’t clumsy, though. You’ve never been, not even when you’re drunk. What’s going on?” Enjolras’s voice is quick, sharp, and laced along a thick string of worry as he helps Grantaire stand with gentle hands.

Grantaire wants to wave away his boyfriend’s concern, but he can’t deny that the steady hand on the small of his back is helping keep him upright at the moment. He mentally debates if he should tell Enjolras that he’s been feeling unwell for the last few days, that his head goes from a dull ache to feeling as if it’s being ripped in two or that his entire body aches so much that each step feels like a challenge or that his temperature has been flipping and having him feeling blistering hot to icy cold in the blink of an eye.

But then he thinks on to how stressed Enjolras has been with work and classes and how his boyfriend doesn’t need this added component. So, his hazy mind draws to the conclusion, and he parts his lips to build on the excuse hot on his tongue, but before he can utter a word, Enjolras is sidestepping around to face him and pressing a palm to his forehead.

“Grantaire, you are burning up!”

Grantaire can’t help his eyes fluttering closed as he unconsciously leans into Enjolras’s cool touch that provides a brief feeling of relief from the evident heat spread across his forehead, but his eyes snap open when the hand disappears.

“I think I should take you to Joly.”

“Why?” Grantaire asks, lips curling into a frown.

“Because you feel like a furnace.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“R, you half-passed out like a minute ago, and you are running a fever!”

Grantaire’s mouth is open, and his lips are burning with a counter-argument, but his face falls when he takes in the deep color of worry glowing in Enjolras’s wide eyes. “I just need rest,” he tries instead, keeping his voice gentle and reassuring.

“Joly has-”

“I know Joly has a whole cupboard of medicine, but all I need is some ibuprofen and sleep, Enj.” Grantaire grabs Enjolras’s hands and laces their fingers together, offering an assuring squeeze.

Enjolras tilts his head, seeming to contemplate this. “Let’s make a deal.”

“What is this? A game show?” Grantaire asks with a weak laugh.

“We can go back to the apartment, and if your fever is over 104, we are calling Joly.”

“Can it be Combeferre instead?”

Enjolras nods, and Grantaire smiles as the two begin walking again. When he stumbles as another wave of dizziness washes over him, Enjolras is quick to wrap an arm around his waist.

“I feel like I should just call Combeferre now.”

Grantaire breathes out a weak huff and drops his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “Still just clumsy,” he says weakly, knowing full and well that that argument has been dispelled the moment Enjolras caught onto the fever.

“Or the fever boiling your brain.”

Grantaire jerks to a stop and snaps a sharp gaze toward Enjolras. “You really need to stop watching those sketchy medical top ten videos at three am.”

“They’re informational.”

“No, they are made by twelve-year-olds with voice modulators and WebMD pulled up,”

“Hush,” Enjolras spits out, and Grantaire sinks back into Enjolras’s side with a shiver despite the warm smile pulling at his lips.


This is thanks to my CWB nonnie, who suggested force sensitive medics. Naturally my brain jumped straight to Kix. Shout out to @thebisexualmandalorian for being awesome and encouraging. It got a little long so please enjoy under the cut. Also available on ao3.

Kix knelt down next to a shiny. He was pretty badly hurt. Looked like he took a chunk of shrapnel to the chest. Kix looked around the battlefield, there were no Jedi around. Skywalker and Tano were off chasing the last of the seppies, and Cody had Kenobi cornered with some other medics back towards camp.

Keep reading

Ray Blackwell - Shrunken S/O

MC gets turned into a 5-year-old.

  • So you somehow wound up drinking a youth potion mixed up in the medicine that you were taking for a minor cold.
  • When Ray wakes up to find a healthy mini-you curled up beside him in the bed, he pinches himself first to make sure he’s not dreaming. When he’s confirmed that you, in fact, have somehow turned into a child, he wonders what to do with you for the day. He opts for scooping up your slumbering form in his arms and goes to the dining room.
  • When he finds everyone gathered in the dining room already, they stare at him for a few seconds before Seth faints from shock, thinking you two already had a kid and didn’t bother telling them.
  • He gets smacked hard by the level-headed Sirius.
  • Sirius goes to ask Harr for help, while Luka and Fenrir both agree to go buy some children’s clothes and toys for you. Seth joins in after recovering from the shock.
  • When you wake up with no memories of your older life, you’re quite scared at first being surrounded by strangers, but Ray’s reassuring smile and gentle voice calm you down and you begin to follow him everywhere.
  • Harr attempts to turn you back with magic, but you’re apparently still able to deflect magic in your younger state and his spells are effectively blocked. He tells Ray you’ll remain a 5-year-old for two weeks.
  • You spend the next two weeks treated like a princess in the Black Army with Ray as your constant bodyguard and hide-and-seek playmate.
  • He’ll let you climb on his shoulders and take you on piggyback rides throughout Central Quarter whenever you want to and spoil you with candy and pastries. He’ll gently tease you at times for eating so much, but the pout on your face only serves to make him laugh and pat your head.
  • When it’s nighttime, Ray often reads you fairytales until you fall asleep, and even after that, he’ll watch over you to ensure your absolute safety.
  • He rather enjoys these two weeks since he’s never had much experience dealing with kids, much less a younger version of the one he loves.
  • Also since he knows he can tease you endlessly about these two weeks once you turn back.

Requested by: Anonymous

Pairing: Alfie Solomons/reader

Rating: Your gran’s gonna deck the living daylights out of me

Warnings: Swearing, Alfie being a complete softie 

Summary: [the request itself] Since ya like writing for alfie here’s an idea, alfie being rough on the outside and behind closed doors with his wife he’s so soft and gentle with her that when she comes to work one day and accidentally interrupted a meeting between alfie and some important people, instead of shouting at her and calling her off he just says something like “it’s fine love, don’t worry about it” with his voice so low and everyone in the room is shocked that alfie has a soft side. Lmao this request is so long I’m

Tagging: @unholyjs @jemmaisokay @aw–heck @heysoiguessthisisme @peakygirlsgathering @pumpkinfriend @leather-lace-and-swords

Keep reading


If you appreciate some quality RinPana (or Rin being cute in general), please go read the new Main Stories on ENSIF because:

  • Rin is really excited about Sports Day and can show off her strengths!
  • The lines in Pics 1 & 2 have Rin using her nice and gentle voice to reassure Hanayo that Sports Day isn’t anything to be nervous about, bless this child.
  • Look! At Pic 3! See how happy Rin is for Hanayo! Rin is such a supportive friend!!!
  • Rin and Hanayo dance together for Sport Day, thanks SIF u da real MVP~ (There’s also HonoUmi/HonoKotoUmi, NozoEli, and NicoMaki dance pairings lol)
  • Also, Rin and Hanayo are in charge of choreo for the µ’s dance in this chapter aaaaah
One Cup of Coffee and an Eggo

A week. It’s been a whole week that Ives girl—er, wait, she likes to be called El—has been living in the grandiose trailer of Jim Hopper. Yet, he admits to himself that the silent presence of a slim frame draped in an old concert t-shirt of his and some baggy flannel pants perched at his kitchen table with the expression of a frightened deer still makes him flinch a little (what? He’s not used to company). He greets her with a short, “Hey, kid,” and shuffles around the kitchen with feigned purpose, as Eleven remains tense as ever and follows him with her eyes. Well, frightened deer doesn’t really cut it for this kid—she’s more like some sort of fox, unnerved and calculating at the same time, tense and ready to bolt at any moment. She’s still just a kid, though….which is exactly causing the problem weighing on Hopper’s sleep-hazy mind as he aimlessly opens door after cupboard door and pretends to rummage through the useless ingredients inside. How the hell is he supposed to feed this kid?! She’s not going to survive on three cups of black coffee, a swig of last night’s beer, and a donut, that’s for damn sure. Their first week entirely consisted of thawing out frozen pancakes that Karen Wheeler whipped up in advance and graciously sent over with her son, who seemed oddly eager to stick around and “make sure El was adjusting alright.” Even Joyce Byers stopped by the station after work to drop off a meatloaf she made, along with some side dishes to help him get back into the swing of things, as she said sweetly. Hopper sighs exasperatedly into the empty fridge. It seems like the entire town was doubting his ability to look after this kid, and yet, they were the ones that saddled him with her! He straightens up and runs a hand through his mussed hair. 

Keep reading

explodo-kills  asked:

83) “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Please do this for katsudeku! ♡ :)

Izuku had never handled large, open and busy spaces well.  And it was only amplified after his encounter with Shigaraki in the middle of a shopping center in his first year.  So he and Katsuki had ended up separated in a massive theme park on what was likely, the busiest day of the year.

As soon as he realized that he had no clue where Katsuki was, and he wasn’t even sure how they’d been separated, he found somewhere to stand out of the way.  He sat down on a brick planter and pulled out his phone, calling Katsuki as soon as he could get his hands to stop shaking.\

Katsuki answered immediately.

“Deku, Deku, breath.  Breath for me, baby,” he said.  Izuku took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  He shut his eyes and concentrated on Katsuki’s voice.

“Kacchan,” he whimpered.

“Where are you, Deku?” Katsuki asked.  Izuku forced his eyes open and looked around.

“I’m, um, I’m near a bathroom, and the carousel is directly ahead of me.  By the - the stroller parking,” Izuku said.

“Okay, okay, baby.  I’ll be there okay?  Stay right there.  I’m coming to get you,” Kacchan said.  His voice was gentle and firm, and Izuku felt reassured by it.

“Okay, okay Kacchan.”

The call was ended and Izuku closed his eyes again.  There was just too much.  Too much noise, too much color, it was so overwhelming.  He placed his hands over his ears to try and muffle some of the noise.

After what felt like an eternity, Izuku felt a touch to his knee.  He opened his eyes to Katsuki looked at him worriedly.

“Kacchan!” Izuku launched himself into Katsuki’s arms and held on tight.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Deku.  I’m here,” Katsuki soothed.

“I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” Deku said.

“No, no you’re not a baby.  It’s okay, I promise,” Katsuki said.  He very rarely spoke so gently to Izuku.  But when he did, Izuku felt so incredibly warm.

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

He pulled away and Katsuki sandwiched Izuku’s cheeks in his hands.

“Anytime, Deku.  Anytime.”

Ha!  Bitch you thought I was gonna write some sad ass shit.