reliving the dream for one night

Domingo En Fuego, I Think I Lost My Halo (El Diablo x Reader)

Pairing: El Diablo x Reader

Title Inspiration: Polarize by twenty one pilots

Summary: A short little story in which Diablo has a nightmare and Y/N helps him get through it.

Warnings: Hints of sex, nightmares, and fluffy fluff

Word count: 461

“Baby, baby. Wake up. Wake up.” you whispered in the middle of the night, gently shaking Chato in an effort to end his misery. His body was incredibly warm and he was sweating profusely. The only emotions evident on his face were that of agony and torment, and it pained you greatly to see him like this. Nightmares were not an uncommon occurrence with Chato, but they did decrease in quantity and intensity when you slept next to him. It was always the same dream, one where he was forced to relive the death of his family, over and over again.

“No, no, no!” Chato yelled out before jolting upright.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.” you said softly, gently rubbing circles on his back. He shook his head before wrapping both of his arms around you and burying his face in your chest.

“Y/N why do you love me? What have I done to deserve you?” he asked you, breaking the silence that once filled the room.

“I love you for so many different, beautiful reasons. You’re thoughtful,” you paused to tenderly pull his face up so you could look him in the eye, “you’re caring. You make me feel safe and adored. And you’re also the most incredible man I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving.”

“But I killed my family, Y/N, I’ve done so many bad things. Horrible things to innocent people.”

“But you’re a better man now.”

“That doesn’t change what I did” he looked down and grabbed your hand.

“The past does not define you, Chato. Not when you try so hard to improve yourself everyday.”

Then there was silence once more. It was not an uncomfortable kind of silence, however. Chato had laid back down and you had placed your hand on his bare chest. He grasped your hand within his, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling as you listened to his heartbeat. You sat like this for a while until you were certain that Chato would not be able to go back to sleep.

“How about,” you changed your position so that you were now straddling him, “we watch a really bad scary movie and laugh at everyone’s ridiculously bad choices?” This made Chato smile, and he sat up and started placing small, wet kisses on your neck.

“Mmm. I can think of something even better to do.”

You laughed before gently pushing him away, “Nope, movie first.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before you stood up, and were about to leave when Chato caught your arm.

“I love you.” he said, making your face turn the color of a thousand red roses.

“I love you, too. Now get up. We have a movie to watch.” And with that, you exited the room, feeling so incredibly in love with Chato Santana.

Genyatta headcanons:

• Sometimes (most of the times, actually), Genji screams in terror in his sleep, reliving in his dreams the night his brother tried to kill him. Zenyatta always watches him sleeping, caring about him, worrying about him, comforting him when his nightmares become too heavy, too cruel.

• One day, Zenyatta decided to try japanese tea ceremony for the first time. He spent all his life in Tibet, and no one at the Shambali monastery could teach him about that ancient art. When Genji entered the room, he found his master trying to pour cold plain water into a bowl full of dry tea leaves.

Genji just died from cuteness.

• They enjoy playing chess together.

• One day, Genji arrived at the monastery with a little injured sparrow resting between his hands. Zenyatta named it after his beloved and brightest pupil, and committed himself on caring after it.

• Genji’s a good story-teller (especially when it comes to horror stories), and Zenyatta just loves the smooth sound of his voice when he narrates.

• Zenyatta loves when Genji put his visor away, so he can look directly at him, at his eyes. So he can trace gently all his scars, one after another.

• Zenyatta has a huge weakness for flowers, and sometimes Genji shows at the monastery with bright, colourful flowers. Zenyatta’s room slowly became a little, playful garden.

I'm Coming Home

Character: Erik Lehnsherr

Rating: G 

Word Count: 646

Summary: After months of nightmares and sleepless nights, Erik comes back for a quick visit.

It started slowly as you began to lose your hours of sleep. At first it was only minutes and then it transpired into hours before you could fall asleep. Charles and Hank offered help, but you denied their requests saying you had it under control. Then came the dreams. They were awful, terrible dreams. You relived memories of Erik, from good to bad. One night the lights throughout the house brighten and broke from the pain you were feeling.

                “[Y/N],” Hank said that morning, “I can get you something to help you sleep.” 

                You looked at him. There were bags under your eyes and the once bright color you had was dull. Your coffee didn’t help at all, only making your sleeping habits worse. “I’m fine,” you said. “Trust me, last night was a little slip up. I have under control. Tell Charles that too, if he ever comes out of his damned room.”

                Hank let out a breath as you walked away to the library.

The book you were reading found itself thrown across the room and sliding to the floor with a loud thud. Tears were in your eyes as you glared at it. Jane Eyre. You loved the book once, but now it brought back memories you wanted to forget. You grabbed another blindly and lost yourself in its genetic world.

                Charles had been the one to find you asleep on the wooden chair with your face on the book. His hair had grown out considerably and he could hear you saying to get it cut. A frown graced his lips as he looked at you drunken state.

                You were drunk in a different way than he was. Charles was drunk off whiskey. You were drunk off painful, happy memories.

Erik looked upon the house he once called home. It was still stately but vines and bushes had grown up its walls and some windows were cracked. He opened the door and walked to the room he was looking for. Yours.

                Before reaching for the door handle, he heard a cry of his name. It wasn’t something he hadn’t heard before, but it had a new tone, a new emotion laced between the letters forming the name Erik. His hand gripped the handle and pushed the door open.

                His feet crushed broken glass on his first step into his old room. The floor was covered in old papers and letters and the pictures that were once on the walls and his desk, were face-down broken in the floor on the opposite side it should be from being thrown. Another cry of his name grabbed his attention to you.

                You were still in the same pajamas from the beginning of the week and your hair was still in the same braid as well. The duvet was on the floor in a pile so you had no warmth, only the sweats and tank top you were wearing. You shivered from the cold and let out a choked sob of the name that haunted your dreams and mind.

                He could feel himself moving, but did not remember doing so until he reached down and grabbed the duvet, placing it over your body as to get you some warmth. Erik placed his hand lightly on your cheek, barely touching.

                “Erik,” you murmured, grabbing onto his hand before turning onto your side. It was the calmest you’ve been when sleeping. “Come home… please… “

                Erik rubbed his hand over his face and looked down at you.

The next morning you were disappointed you were alone. As you always were. Your duvet lay on your lap as you sat up and stretched. Your hand felt heavier. On your hand, was a ring. It was simple and silver with an engraving. You looked closer and choked back a sob.

Ich komme nach Hause.

I’m coming home. 

i have a mighty need to talk about adrien and depression so everybody gather round @imagine-miraculousladybug you might wanna pull up a chair kids this could take a while

warnings for mentions of self harm, sexual abuse, general negativity, and fathers

• let me start off by saying adrien is a sexual abuse survivor (and yes this is me projecting you can shut up) and its fucked him up big time. he has frequent nightmares in which he relives the experiences. he always calls nino when he wakes up because nino is the only person who can calm him down after the nightmares.
• he also has hella abandonment issues thanks to his mom. when hes not having nightmares about his abuse, hes having abandonment dreams. he starts dreading going to sleep. he stops sleeping. one night he dreams that nino leaves him and calls him immediately upon waking up, a shaking incoherent mess. he accidentally tells nino he loves him and they both know its not just in a best friend way. according to adrien its not in a romantic way either. nino decides the feelings can just be that, feelings, and they can just be them. they dont have to have labels. adrien shakily agrees
• for a long time adrien would have self harm urges that he wouldnt act on because “what if something happens at a shoot and someone finds out ill disappoint them ill disappoint father” but eventually he just gets so overwhelmed that he cant help it. and then he cant stop. ladybug finds out when he starts bleeding through his suit (bc his cuts reopened) after a fight he shouldnt be bleeding from. she tries to help him, but its difficult when she doesnt know who he really is or even how to handle it
• occasionally adrien will fake being sick because he cant bear to even get out of bed. “no one needs me. no one cares about me. no one would miss me anyway” he thinks
• sometimes when adrien smiles nino sees some of that sadness and pain in adriens eyes that adrien wont tell even him about and he hurts for his friend but he just doesnt know how to help
• post reveal marinette, alya, and nino decide they have to do something about their friend bc adriens depression is out if control. they go to marinettes house and sit him down almost intervention style but more so they just want him to talk to them. they just want to help. it takes a long time before he finally opens up, and they tentatively ask him questions about what, if anything, they can do to help.
• marinette helps adrien tell his father that he needs help, and whats been going on. gabriel is upset, but it turns out adriens mother also struggled with depression so he kind of understands. he agrees to seek help for adrien. his micromanaging lets up just a bit.

Haha I was thinking about Ryoumarx angst. And like Ryouma talks about being afraid of losing any more of his loved ones (which makes sense after all he’s been through) so I’d imagine he has nightmares fairly often when things get stressful about Sakura being killed or Kamui being taken away again or just reliving his father’s death and so on…meanwhile in the third route he’s growing to trust Marx and even regard him as a friend and actually starts grow fond of him, until one night he wakes up in a cold sweat from an awful dream about Marx dying in his arms, and that’s when he realizes that oooh shit, he’s in too deep, he actually really cares for his former enemy.

Then he has to sneak off to Marx’s room just to peek in and make sure he’s alright before he can calm down enough to get back to sleep.

I Need Her

This is my first Becommissar fic so please be nice haha! It’s seriously smutty, like 100% NSFW! I might continue it because there is a bit of storyline in it that I could continue with but i’ll see what the response is like first!

Beca hadn’t seen or heard anything from the tall gorgeous blonde since the after party at Worlds. Two weeks had gone by with Beca constantly reliving that night of raw passion, heat, and intensity. Every night she dreamed of Kommissar running her hands along her skin, her lips ghosting over her neck, and her perfect teeth biting down on her collarbones. She continually woke covered in a thin layer of sweat desperate to see the perfect German once more. Beca had quickly found that pleasuring herself was not enough to compare to what she had experienced on that one glorious night. She had to find Kommissar again.

Beca woke early on the Monday two weeks after worlds, her penultimate day in the Bella house with all the girls together. They were going out to celebrate tonight and she knew she should finish packing today before the drinking started. Her day went slowly, shoving her belongings into boxes marked ‘Bhloe’ to be sent to her and Chloe’s new apartment in LA. Her friend had secured a teaching position at an LA music school and Beca was beginning a paid internship at a music production agency near the school so it made sense for them to move in together. She started with big items such as furniture until she could finally move onto smaller items scattered around her and Amy’s room. As she stuffed three years worth of Bella sheet music into a file Beca found her mind wandering to a tall pale body, perfectly shaped, with bold golden locks falling just below the shoulders. She shook her head and checked the time, 5.30pm, she had an hour before the Bella’s were all meeting in the kitchen for pre-drinks. Looking back at the sheet music covered in scribbled notes she felt strangely sentimental and wasn’t sure she was ready to leave her group of awesome nerds. That was, until she heard Amy shouting something about ‘A last fuck in her Bella bed!’ to Bumper. Beca quickly exited their shared room heading downstairs instead. Almost finished packing she resigned herself to sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the other girls packing and getting ready. She found herself joined by Emily, the only Bella not leaving the house, and they chatted and laughed about their memories of worlds before resorting to scrolling quietly through their phones.

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No Tomorrow

(Warning! Minor spoilers of the season 1 finale!)

Kanan Jarrus tossed and turned in his sleep within his cabin on The Ghost. The Jedi was use to restless nights; years ago he would combat them by drinking himself into a stupor that no nightmare could penetrate. In more recent years, however, his time on board The Ghost has filled his nights with much happier dreams, reducing the nightmares to only once or twice a month. Most were dark visions of his past, but this one was brought on by much more recent events. His capture and torture left him more scarred than he realized. Kanan’s mind raced as he relived the feeling of nearly losing Ezra and the painful sadness as he watched Hera flying away by his own command, leaving him behind…

Kanan shot up awake at that last thought, breathing heavily. He was unsure as to why that had scared him awake. He was almost sure that losing Ezra, losing any of his family, would be the thing he feared most. As he lay there, trying to calm down enough to fall back to sleep, he heard the clinking of dishes somewhere on the ship. Kanan climbed out of his bunk to investigate and he found Hera in the kitchen, making two cups of tea.

“Oh. Hello, luv.” she said as Kanan walked into the room.

“Hey.” Kanan replied sleepily. He sat down at the table and Hera set a cup in front of him. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Hera replied, sitting across from him with her own cup. “Thought I’d make myself some tea to relax.”

“OK, but why two cups?”

“Hmm? Oh…” Kanan gave her a soft smile as Hera looked from her cup to his. “W-well, I started making it and I had this feeling that you’d have another nightmare, so I made one for you, just in case.”

“You must be developing force visions, because that’s exactly what happened…”

“I don’t need Jedi powers to know you, Kanan.” Hera told him sweetly. Kanan felt his face get warm as he blushed.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, running his hand through his hair.

“Yes, it is.” she replied, giving him a knowing smile. “For instance, I know you only run your hands through your hair when you’re anxious. Or lying.” Kanan’s hand immediately shot down to his side and he glared at Hera as she laughed at him. “Come on, dear, don’t look at me like that! We’ve been traveling together for a long time. I’m sure you know me just as well.”

“I suppose.” Kanan said, conceding. They sat in silence for a moment as they sleepily sipped their tea.

“So…Do you want to talk about it?”

“The nightmare? Nah, it was just the typical stuff.” Hera gave him a look. “What?”

“Hand, in hair.”

“This. Is why. I pull it. Back.” Kanan said as he aggressively tied it back into his usual ponytail. Hera giggled, clearly amused.

“So.” she said, looking over her teacup at him. Kanan sighed.

“Fine. It wasn’t typical. It was…different.”

“Different how?”

“Well, normally it’s all fear of loss. But this one…” Kanan shook his head. “What…what if I never came back? What if they had killed me? What then?”

“That is always a possibility, of course.” Hera told him. “But you’ve always known that. This isn’t new.”

“I know, but I’ve never been that close before.”

“So you fear your own death?”

“No, that’s not it…” he told her, thinking for a second. “It’s more about everything I’d leave behind. Or, everyone…” Kanan absently rubbed an imperfection in his teacup. “I don’t want to leave Ezra the way my master left me.” They fell into silence again.

“I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen, but you know I can’t.” Hera finally said. “But just know that you are risking all of that so that no one has to feel that kind of pain ever again. And, if something were to happen to you, this crew would get through it. Together.”

“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Kanan said, shaking his head.

“That was the professional answer. Do you want the other one?”

“Huh?”

“I’d miss you.”

“You’d…” Kanan was somewhat taken aback by her revelation. He smiled. “You know, this whole situation has gotten me thinking. If there was no tomorrow, would there be anything I’d regret not having done? Or said? And there’s this one thing I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

“Come now, Kanan.” Hera said in an exasperated tone. She stood up, taking their empty cups from the table. “We’ve been over this–”

“Caleb.” Hera stopped halfway to the sink and turned towards him.

“What?”

“My name.” Kanan said. The seriousness in his voice caused Hera to slowly return to her seat. “Caleb Dume. I figure someone on this ship should know, just in case.”

“Kanan,” Hera said, concerned. “You know how dangerous information can be. There must be a reason you’ve kept this secret for so long. If I were to be captured and tortured–” Kanan gently put his  hand on hers.

“Then you’ll just have to keep it to yourself.” he told her. “I trust you, Hera. Hell, you were the first person I trusted after a long, long time. I’d hate myself if I never got the chance to tell you.”

“Kanan, I don’t know what to say…”Silence fell once more, but this time it came with a bit of awkwardness that Kanan had to break.

“Come on captain! Don’t get all sentimental on me!” Kanan gave her a sly grin.

“Hey!” Hera said, slapping his hand. Kanan laughed out loud as she pouted, picked up the teacups, and stormed off to the sink. After all these years, he still loved messing with her. Hera set the cups in the sink and turned back towards him.

“You are still a mystery, aren’t you Caleb Dume?” she said, smiling affectionately. “Come on. The kids will be up soon, help me whip up some food.” Kanan stood up and started to pull out ingredients. After everything he went through that caused him to change his name, he thought he never wanted to hear the words ‘Caleb Dume’ ever again. But hearing Hera say them with that melodic voice she had…

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad.

she wants to be the girl the photographer is desperate to capture.

she wants to be the subject the painter dreams of, the muse of the wanderlust poet, the memory the singer aches to relive.

she wants to be nostalgia on a summer night; twisted bed sheets and nightmares filled with regret. she wants to be the mystery he couldn’t solve; she wants to break a heart and mend another, she wants to be the one that got away.

she wants to be known as beautiful when she sleeps. she longs to be craved; the way a soul searches for a savior. she wants to be someone’s favorite song.

she wants to be the stranger who asks you to dance in the middle of the street; the girl who kisses your cheek and leaves you (wondering if she was ever really there).

—  stories of a lonely girl / misplacedpens

Fic: We Own Tonight (16/?) (M)

Author’s note: A Thanksgiving day treat! Anyone who wanted to see more Liam and Elsa in this story, you certainly get your wish with this chapter. I hope you like it!

Also posted: FF.net / AO3

Chapter Sixteen

She burrowed deeper into the pillow, annoyed at being roused from her dream. It had been a good one; she and Killian reliving the night in the dilapidated cabin, making love over and over in front of the fire. Her movement made something twinge inside her and she groaned. She adjusted her hips under the blanket, the memory coming back to her in a rush. Unlike their previous nights in bed together…she was sore. Definitely not in a bad way, she just hadn’t expected it.

The mild discomfort made her smile.

Emma rolled onto her other side, taking a peek at Killian in the early morning. He looked quite boyish in sleep, hair in his eyes, lips parted, sheet tangled around his hips. His arms were outstretched, like he was reaching for her. She obliged him, cuddling close, gently resting his hand on her hip under the blanket. She barely brushed her lips to his smooth brow, joy filling her chest. Her fingertips skimmed his biceps and shoulder, the light caught the red stone that rested on her finger.

That more than anything reminded her how much had changed since she’d left home.

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Caricature
GXNX
Caricature

I’m scared of growing up and I hope you are too.

If anyone’s listening, this song is about staying young, staying boldly curious. It’s about reliving the most important moments of your youth. Experiencing again the love, the anger, the doubt, angst and the blood that comes with it.

It’s about cherishing those moments one more time before they become distorted.

Before they become a caricature.

+++

4128) Last night I had a dream where I suddenly had a penis. For once, I knew what it was like to have one. I try to relive my dream so I can imagine it during the day. Can't wait to have the sensation again once I get the surgery.