#hurt/comfort

[sincerelybubbles]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst, resolved angst though!! i keep promises!! also, shower scene but sfw !! i am just a slut for an innocent shower scene

part 1

Spencer doesn't come back that night and you sleep alone in the bed. It's too big, too empty, too quiet.

Your morning feels liquid without him. He usually makes the coffee, you figure out lunches. Brushing past each other, gentle hands, gentler smiles.

Everything feels hollow -- off-kilter. You're late to work for the first time in years, running behind with raw eyes and no reminders of the time shouted across the room.

Of course, you're used to the mornings that he's away. When he's in a different state you do this alone all of the time, but it's punctuated with texts and calls and promises that this isn't your new normal.

But now, the possibility hangs low over your head, a storm cloud dripping steadily over you as you work.

Annoyingly, the weather doesn't reflect your mood: it's sunny, there's a breeze, leaves cover the ground. It's the sort of weather you would convince Spencer to take a walk in. It's the sort of weather that, eons ago, he would have noticed and brought you out to walk in without you asking first.

It's not easy to notice when the shift happened. One moment he was exactly who you fell in love with: passionate about his job, sure, but equally excited about you. But, slowly, he changed. Like ice melting in water left outside, the parts of him that made every moment apart worth it slid down the glass and evaporated. The Spencer left is vacant, reading files at home even when you know he doesn't need to. He hasn't planned a date in months, hasn't texted you because he read something new that he wanted to share, hasn't seemed to see you for longer than a few seconds in weeks.

You tried to bring it up to him but the conversation was put aside because of a work call. He had to go but he pressed a kiss into your hair, hugged you tight, and promised you would work on it. Together.

That was over a month ago and he's made no effort. If anything, things have gotten worse. You can't remember the last conversation you had with him that had any true substance.

"Alright, go home." Your boss' voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you into the now.

"Sorry?"

"Go home, get some sleep, you look like shit," he says, shaking his head at you. "Don't argue, you're only missing a few hours, we'll survive without you."

Thanking him, you gather your things and begin the walk back to your car, scattering the fallen leaves with your feet.

You try to think of anything else as you get in the car, turning on music. It's hard, but you do it. You think about what to cook for dinner, what chores need to get done, mundane things that usually plague you.

You don't think about if you still have a relationship. You refuse the thought every time it creeps into your mind, shaking your head as if to physically remove the thought.

Spencer's car is in the driveway when you pull in. You put the car in park and stare at it, letting your head slowly fall forward and cheek rest on the steering wheel. He was so rarely home in the middle of the day on weekdays. You're not sure if you're ready to face him but know you have no choice.

With a sigh, you get out of the car and make your way into the house.

You can hear him moving around in the kitchen when you push the door open. Quietly, you slip out of your shoes and set your things on the table. Without saying anything, you go to your bedroom and start the shower.

You're tired of always initiating the conversations. You're tired of seeking his attention, practically begging for it, only to be shut down. Let him come to you if he's really sorry -- if he even is sorry.

You've been in the shower less than a minute when you hear your name being called. The bathroom door opens and you can just make out Spencer's head poking inside the room through the shower curtain.

"Hello?" He asks, stepping inside.

"Hi."

"I didn't hear you come in." You don't answer him, wetting your hair instead. "Can I sit?" He asks after a moment, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, if you want."

You watch as his shadow crosses the bathroom and he sits on the toilet, slouched, forearms resting on his knees.

"I was an idiot last night," he starts. You stay quiet, silently agreeing as you begin to shampoo your hair. "I can't honestly say anyone or anything is more important than my job. And I know you understand that, you've always understood that. I mean, I'm saving lives. Protecting people. What I do, it's important."

"I know," you say, softly.

"I know you know," Spencer says, just as softly, voice hurt. "But that doesn't mean you're not important or that I can treat you as less of a priority. Because you are, you know. A priority. Pretty much my main one."

You hang your head under the warm water, watching it drip through your hair and take the suds away with it. The soap runs down your arms, down your legs, and swirls around the drain. Steam lifts over the curtain, filling the air and making your eyes hazy.

There isn't much to say other than, "I haven't really felt like one."

"And I was an asshole when you tried to tell me, I know." Spencer rubs his hands across his face, voice agitated.

"What happened?" You ask, eyes still trained on the drain.

"Nothing, really. I think I just let myself get too sucked in. I mean, you've always been so consistent in my life, even before we got together, that I just sort of always expect you'll be there for me."

"I will," you admit, leaning against the wall of the shower so you can watch his shadow move as he speaks. It's true, you'll always be there for Spencer.

Spencer shakes his head, leaning forward and resting it in his hands. "You shouldn't have to if I can't prove the same is true in reverse. I should be just as consistent. I used to be just as consistent. I prided myself on how well I managed our relationship and our job. I got too comfortable, too cocky, too sure that I couldn't fuck this up that I ended up doing just that."

"I don't think you've fucked this up." Spencer laughs, low and harsh, lifting his head to look at the ceiling. "No, really. I think you just fucked up but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"You deserve better."

"You are better, Spencer. I know you are. You're just going through something. I don't know what, I don't even think you know what, but if you let me in, we can work through it together. Just, you can't push me away."

"I don't even want to push you away, that's the thing. I can tell when I'm doing it but I can't figure out how to stop."

"Well, this is the best way to start. By telling me. I trust you. I trust us. Do you?"

"I trust you," Spencer says, voice breaking. "And, yeah, I trust us."

"Then that's all we need, no?"

He joins you in the shower a few minutes later. All innocence, helping you wash your hair and letting you wash his. The water is warm, you're in each other's spaces, not talking but just together.

It's the mundane task that truly starts to make you feel better. He's gentle as he works conditioner in your hair, eyes shut in peace when he bends down for you to run your fingers through his.

He jumps out before you to grab your towel, opening it and wrapping you up before hugging you. Warm, steady, he rubs small circles on the nape of your neck, under your dripping hair, where he holds you close.

"I was going to make dinner, I was making a list when you walked in," he says when the two of you make your way back into the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you to be home yet."

"I was sent home early because I looked tired. Well, he actually said 'like shit' but I know what he meant." You send him a sarcastic smile as you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning forward to look at his grocery list, puzzling out what he wants to cook. "What about you? Why are you home so early?"

Hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, Spencer shrugs. "Today is pretty much just a paperwork day. I got what I needed to get done out of the way and went home. The team was confused but they'll be fine."

"You left early?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and your gaze to watch him.

"Like I said, you're a priority, too. You deserve to be treated like one. I can't leave early most days, but the ones I can ... you deserve that, at the very least."

You stand, shuffling over in your socks, to hug him around the waist. His hands come to wrap around your shoulders without hesitation, smoothing over your hair.

You stand like that for a minute, his grasp firm, your nose pressed into his neck.

"We're going to be okay," you whisper, just as much for him as yourself.

"Of course," he replies.

here u guys go, luv u <3

i have something else (much much better writing quality wise imo) in the drafts so keep an eye out!! this is just a silly little thing but i still enjoyed seeing ur guys' reactions to it !!

#bubbs.writes #fluff #criminal minds #x reader #cm #angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #spencer reid angst #resolved angst #part 2 #spencer reid resolved angst #hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #criminal minds x reader

[scaredbisexual]

Hi lovely! As a fellow bisexual id love to see something about reader maybe coming out as bi to Joost or maybe reader runs into her ex gf while with him? Or something totally else! Only if you’re comfortable ofc 🩷🫶🏻

I never claimed to be sane, so here is another request today! This one admittedly took a little longer, I got sucked into the story lol

LOVE ME SOME BISEXUAL Y/N! Hell yeah!

Enjoy!

Cool | Joost Klein x fem!reader

Summary: It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give. 

And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her. 

Word count: 1997 (the clownery)

WARNINGS: swearing (it's a given with me, I'm Polish), degrading and not in a fun way, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of sexuality <- YELL AT ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING, thx <3

Author's note: it is very strictly a female reader in here, again, sorry to disappoint folks. But I have one request for a bromance turned romance in my inbox so stay tuned!

Not proof-read, sorry

‘Oh my God, Y/N? Long time no see!’ a high voice shrieked in the distance. The girl in question startled, looking around to find whoever was calling her name. 

Her and her boyfriend, Joost, were currently on vacation. The Italian breeze was lightly blowing, more often than not tangling her hair and making her huff. The boy next to her always giggled, took the strands out of her mouth and kissed her nose, finding the whole shebang to be insanely cute and ridiculous. 

‘Serves you right for having such long hair’ he would chuckle, elbowing her jokingly in the side. And she would pout and punch his bicep, sticking her tongue out at him. 

‘Har har, fuck you’ she muttered once, making him laugh in a loud, raspy belly laugh. 

And it was amazing, the vacation of their dreams to be frank. They took a week off, packed their suitcase (yes, singular, luggage fares are simply too high to bother) and embarked on a journey to some small, suburban town in the south of Italy. He wore linen shirts and his wife-beaters, she wore floral dresses and thin shorts, both of their bodies glistening with sweat. It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give. 

And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her. 

Y/N recognized her in a second, the pixie cut, the floral shirt, the bisexual disaster of a girl with a big smile plastered on her face. And she looked good, damn her. A thin sheen of sweat making her face glow, and not look like a sweaty monster, her legs looked long and slender in her cutoff denim shorts and her arms were littered with tattoos, even more so than when they were together.

Mhm, yup, that’s the kicker. Here Y/N was, on a wonderful vacation with her hotter-than-hell (famous!) boyfriend and who did she meet? Her ex-girlfriend. Yummy.

Joost cocked his brow and squeezed Y/N’s hand, silently asking if she’s okay. 

‘Oh, Vee, hi!’ Y/N replied to the girl, ignoring her boyfriend’s question. Of course she wasn’t fine, the nerve of him. She took a deep breath and tugged Joost along to the other one, meeting her halfway.

‘Oh my god, it’s been too long! You look… nice!’ the other woman exclaimed, eyeing Y/N from head to toe. A crimson blush was biting Y/N’s cheeks, making her roll her eyes.

‘Yeah, sure, same to you’ she replied. ‘Oh, um, Joost, this is Vee. Vee, meet Joost, my boyfriend’ she introduced the two, waving her hand between them. 

‘Hi’ the boy murmured, not entirely rudely, but off-kilter. She chanced a look at him and saw him scanning the other girl from over the rim of his sunglasses. 

See, Joost didn’t like Vee. She seemed fake from the very first sentence she uttered to the both of them, her smile never quite reaching her eyes and said eyes sharp and calculating, rather than warm like her voice would suggest. And he saw how his girl’s shoulders slumped, how her mouth was just slightly downturned, how she didn’t answer his question before. 

So he stood a little taller with his back straight and chest puffed, not so much that it would look silly, but just slightly.

Meanwhile in Y/N’s head there was nothing but the, seemingly looped, word “shit”. And for a good reason, because Vee was trouble and Joost was sunshine and she hated those two worlds colliding. 

‘Oh, a boyfriend, huh? That’s sweet, Y/N, you finally stopped fooling yourself?’ she asked, feigned kindness lacing her voice. She giggled and shot her a wink, turning to the boy next. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar’ she inquired; her eyes squeezed as if she was looking at sun itself.

And in Y/N’s eyes she might as well have because the boy meant so much too him, and he picked up on her nervousness the second Vee appeared. And her heart was beating to the beat of techno music, pumping so much blood through her veins she felt lightheaded. 

But Joost, sweet, kind, lovely Joost, just shot Vee a long look took a step to be in front of Y/N. Nothing too big, not like the teen dramas on Netflix or a dick measuring context, no. Just playing it off as casual while they both knew he was trying to make her feel safer. Bless his soul, he had no idea who Vee was, didn’t even suspect that it could have been Y/N’s ex-girlfriend. How could he, anyway, when she has never made it known to him that she was bisexual. 

And it wasn’t for the lack of trying, she wanted him to know who she was. Ha, she yearned for his acceptance and to be able to share this part of herself with him, but she couldn’t. No, not really.

‘I don’t think we’ve met’ Joost answered nonchalantly. And his voice seemed to do something to Vee, you could almost see the information clicking in place as she raised her brows in disbelief and let out a low chuckle.

‘Shit, you’re the guy from Eurovision, aren’t you? The “Friesenjung” one?’ she exclaimed, smiling broadly at him. ‘Oh I love your music, man! I had no idea you were dating little Y/N over here, she never mentioned it!’ she exclaimed gleefully. And that dig didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, she knew what she wanted to imply, but she couldn’t find the words to disagree, to say that they haven’t talked in years, how could she have mentioned it?!

‘You must not be really good friends, then’ he shrugged, putting his arms over Y/N’s trembling arms and soothing her with his presence. He started to rub his thumb up and down her arm, almost as if saying “I’m here, you’re fine”. And it helped, it really did. 

‘Oh we were very good friends until little miss “my-new-boyfriend-is-famous” didn’t dump me for, seemingly, fame’ Vee rolled her eyes, winking at Joost. ‘She’s like that, you get it, a little sleazy and conniving.’

‘I think that’s enough’ the man interrupted, his face stern and lips pulled into two thin lines. ‘Go and spew your venom somewhere else, we’re not interested.’ 

And so he turned on his heel, dragging Y/N’s dumbfounded body with him, not even looking back at the girl. They took a turn, then another and only after a few minutes of walking in silence did Joost loosen his hold on her shoulders, steering the girl towards a bench. 

It felt as if she was sitting next to the loudspeaker for a little too long, the ringing in her ears persistent, her mouth dry and hands shaking where he held them in his lap. Neither of them said a word, both just leaning against each other and people-watching.

They often did that when one of them was overwhelmed. Back home they could just climb the roof of their house and sit there, hidden behind trees that grew closely together, but not too closely so that they could still look at people walking around. They would play a game where they would guess what someone is thinking about, laughing if it sounded a little too close to this one dialogue from “Twilight” and holding hands. Sometimes they didn’t speak, just existed together in silence disrupted only by honking cars or laughing children.

And here in Italy they didn’t have their own place, but the bench would do. It was a little further away from the trail, between two bushes and under a lovely tree with colorful flowers. So they sat there, their hands clasped together, her forehead resting on his shoulder. And he would sometimes hum a tune, and she would pick it up and so the minutes passed.

Sometime later she stirred, almost like waking up from a bad dream. She opened her eyes and raised her head slowly, her eyes glistening and cheeks red.

‘So, um, that was Vee’ she muttered, laughing hoarsely and looking out into the horizon.

‘Delightful persona’ he answered, squeezing her hand again. Their palms were sweaty but it was okay, he would always hold her hand when she needed it.

‘Tell me about it’ Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. ‘It’s my ex-girlfriend’ she whispered, looking into the opposite direction, too scared of what might happen next.

And Joost just stared at her, his face blank and a million thoughts racing through his head. Okay, it made sense, there was some weird tension between the two women, but he wouldn’t have guessed that they used to be a thing. Hell, Y/N never mentioned to him that she was bisexual, he didn’t really expect it.

‘Oh?’ he hummed, tugging her a little closer. He could feel the tension seeping from her, clogging her pores and presumably giving her a headache. ‘Hey pretty girl, look at me’ he whispered again, reaching out to grab her chin and make her look at him. Her eyes were squeezed shut but she went with the movement. ‘Y/N, honey, breathe please’ he reminded her and she took a big gulp of fresh air.

‘Sorry’ she muttered. She didn’t know if she was more sorry for the situation or for hiding such significant part of herself from him. ‘It’s, uh, complicated’

‘I gathered that, yeah’ he said, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. She sighed deeply and opened her eyes. There he was, smiling down at her, his sunglasses raised to sit on the top of his head, leaving behind red marks on his nose. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes earnest. ‘You don’t have to say anything that you don’t want to say just because that happened. We can go grab some food and pig out on it in bed. Or I can buy you one of those overpriced coffees with enough sugar in it to kill a horse?’ he offered, making her chuckle wetly. 

And God, how was he so perfect? So loving and understanding, no raised voices, no judgement in his voice. She heaved out a long breath and turned to him.

‘I’m bisexual, Joost’ she admitted. She looked like a spooked animal, her eyes scanning his face, legs ready to run if things turned ugly.

‘Cool’ he answered, smiling down at her. ‘Thank you for telling me’ he added after a heartbeat and kissed her sweaty forehead. Y/N raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief.

‘You’re welcome?’ her voice was high, a nervous giggle making its way out of her mouth. ‘That’s it? You don’t think I’m, what, faking it?’

‘Why the hell would I think that?’ he asked, amusement in his voice. 

‘That’s what Vee thought’ she shrugged, looking away yet again. And that just simply wouldn’t do, so he once again reached out for her, but this time put his hand on her cheek and slowly turned her back to him.

‘Well, as we have established, Vee is an idiot’.

And then he kissed her sweetly, pecking her lips and pulling her to his chest. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes with a fruity undertone of a slushie he has spilled on himself earlier that day.

Y/N chuckled and shook her head, her worries melting away with just one kiss. She felt so foolish, of course Joost wouldn’t agree with Vee.

He was her sunshine, he shone just for her and that was final, bisexual or not. So they stood up, fingers laced and cheeks wet, not only from the heat this time, heading towards some restaurant he quickly found on Google. 

A few hours later they laid in bed, legs intertwined, chests pressed closely together with her head in the crook of his neck when he whispered:

‘We can talk about boobs now’.

#joost klein #justice for joost #eurovision #esc 2024 #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joostice #joost klein angst #joost klein fluff #hurt/comfort

[the-starry-seas]

okay i'm curious. fellow whump and hurt/comfort enjoyers!

#whump #hurt/comfort #poll

[munsonsmixtapes]

I’ll Take Care of You

Eddie x shy!bestie!fem!reader

summary: your best friend Eddie helps you after you get into a fight defending him

cw: hurt/comfort

You hit your fist against the door of Eddie’s trailer while constantly looking behind you to see if you had been followed. You yelled his name, nothing even caring that it was late and everyone was asleep. You also didn’t care if Eddie was asleep either, which you knew he probably wasn’t. You were just scared and needed your best friend.

The door opened after a few minutes and you threw yourself into the metalhead’s arms, having never been so grateful to see him. His arms took no time to wrap around you as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you.

He then pulled away, not upset that you were there, but still wondered why you were there. You never came over that late and you never hugged him like that. Something was just off and even though he had just woken up, he could see it.

Eddie gasped when he caught sight of the black eye that was forming and the deep cut on your lip. Whoever had hurt you like that was definitely getting their ass kicked. And Eddie didn’t even know how to kick anyone’s ass, but he was sure going to learn how.

“Y/n, what happened?” You turned away, not wanting to answer him. You didn’t want to upset him after you had woken him up. That would have just been cruel.

“Nothing, Eds,” you shook your head before turning away. You were just seeking comfort, you didn’t want him asking questions.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He hooked his finger under your chin and forced you to look at him so he could see your wounds better. “C’mon, let me get you cleaned up.”

Eddie took you by the hand and led you to his bathroom despite you insisting that you didn’t need help. Wayne always told him that he was supposed to help our family and that was definitely what you were. So he was going to help you even though seeing the blood pouring from your lip made him feel woozy.

He made you sit on the toilet while he went through the medicine cabinet, looking for what he needed to help you. He didn’t even know what he needed. He had never needed to so he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

“What happened?” You couldn’t tell him. You were too scared. He couldn’t know the truth or else he’d be mad. And you couldn’t lose Eddie, you just couldn’t.

“Nothing, I swear.” He grabbed a piece of toilet paper and tilted your chin up so he could press the paper to it. He applied pressure and instructed you to hold it there, but still didn’t let go of you.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Both of you knew that, but you were still going to try.

“Fine. It was Jason.” Eddie was so going to end up on the news, but it was going to be worth knowing that Jason wasn’t going to torment anyone anymore.

“Carver? I swear to fucking god, I’m going to-” He stepped away, trying to hold in his anger. What kind of an asshole beats someone up unprovoked?

“I hit him first.” Eddie’s eyes widened at that. You wouldn’t even hurt a fly so he wasn’t sure why you had hit Jason and what had caused you to do it. You didn’t exactly have a temper. “It was self defense.”

“You hit him?” He honestly couldn’t believe it. He was trying to fight back his smile because he was actually proud of you. You had stood up for yourself and it was to Jason Carver.

“Yes.” You hung your head, picking at the skin around your fingernails as you did so.

“Why?”

“Because he was talking shit about you and I wanted to show him that he couldn’t get away with it.” You had done it for him? Sure, you and Eddie always talked about how much you cared for each other. But not to that extent. He never thought it would come to you punching someone on his behalf. But nonetheless, he was honored.

“Well, I’m honored.” He smiled and you tried your best to mimic it even with the toilet paper against your mouth.

“Good,” you nodded. “Because this hurts like a bitch.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a nurse, but I can help.”

Eddie finished fixing you up as best he could before leading you to his room. He lended you some pajamas and the two of you cuddled up in his bed like always. He was gentle, trying not to hurt you as he pulled you closer to him. The one time he wasn’t there for you and you got hurt. As far as he was aware, he was never going to let you out of his sight ever again.

You laid there as night turned to morning, Eddie stroking your hair as you stared back at him, your eye slowly getting worse. He never imagined that you, little shy you, would get into a fight. Once his anger wore off, he’d probably laugh. But not right now. He didn’t care if you had started it, Jason was so getting his ass kicked.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x shy!reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #hurt/comfort

[serickswrites]

Stone-Cold

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, hurt/comfort

Caretaker sighed as they sat in the dark, cold cellar. They sat stroking Whumpee's hair as Whumpee slept fitfully in their lap. They took care to make sure the chains on their shackles didn't clink with the movement. Whumpee desperately needed sleep and Caretaker would do what they could to make it happen.

The hours of watching Whumper torture Whumpee had been almost more than Caretaker could bear. Almost. But if Whumpee had to endure, they would endure. It was the least they could do. Though it was hard. Quite possibly the hardest thing they had ever done. But they would keep doing it until they could find a way to get Whumpee out of there. One way or another.

"Let me hold you, Whumpee," Caretaker had whispered to Whumpee as Whumper shoved them off the torture table. They had held their arms open to Whumpee as Whumpee crawled towards them, sobbing with each movement. "Shhhh, shhhh, I've got you. You're safe here, Whumpee, I've got you," Caretaker said as they wrapped their arms around Whumpee.

Whumpee sobbed wordlessly as Caretaker held them. Held them and rubbed soothing circles on their back. Held them and murmured comforting words in their ear. Held them because that was the only thing that could be done.

Once Whumpee fell asleep, Caretaker allowed the tears they had been holding back free. They sobbed as they sat there in the stone cold dark hoping that they could find a way out soon, for Whumpee's sake.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw forced to watch #hurt/comfort #mwm2024 #mwmday15 #prompt: “let me hold you” #prompt: cellar #queue

[roxygen22]

Timothee gets overheated on the set of Dune and feels sick and reader who’s visiting him while they film in the desert takes care of him back at their rented apartment

C/W: hospital setting

Overheated

Thanks to the flexibility of your job to work literally from anywhere, you were able to accompany Timothée to Jordan when he was filming Dune 2. One day, you were strolling through the market while he was busy on set when you got a call from his assistant.

"Hello?"

"[Y/N], it's Lizz. He's alright, but..."

Your heart stopped. That was never a good start to a conversation.

"...we had to take Timothée to the hospital. He and Z were shooting a scene in the stillsuits, and he started fumbling over his lines. He got lightheaded and nearly fainted. He's hooked up to IV fluids and resting now."

"I- I'll be there as quick as I can. Can you stay with him until I get there? H-he hates hospitals," you stumbled over yourself due to rising panic.

"Of course."

Lizz let the staff know to expect you so they wouldn't stop you at the door. They quickly escorted you back to his bed. You pulled back the curtain, but her description did not adequately prepare you for what you saw.

Timothée's normally voluminous curls were plastered to his head by sweat. He was pale and shivering from the cold saline they were pumping into his bloodstream and the ice packs on his body. He opened his eyes as you touched his cold, clammy forehead. You could feel the grit from the sand on his skin.

"Hey," he rasped.

"Oh, Timmy," was all you could muster before you choked on tears. You brought his hand to your cheek and kissed his palm. You felt his thumb wipe a tear across your cheekbone.

"I'm alright, babe." He tried to reassure you.

"No, you're not." Your voice raised slightly as narrowed your eyes at him. "You are dehydrated. You are pushing yourself too hard. I kept telling you that your body would make you slow down if you didn't do so voluntarily."

"I know. B-"

"No buts. I am going to ask Lizz to clear your schedule for the rest of the week."

"They can't film without me," he argued weakly.

"Exactly! If you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to film. Just think how many jobs will be lost if they lose their star. They cannot do this movie without you."

Timothée's eyes dropped, and he sighed heavily. "You're right."

"Damn right, I'm right," you said with a wink and a smirk. "I love you, Timothée. I just don't want to see you hurt like this again."

You took him straight to your shared apartment (a short-term lease) once he was discharged. He was still weak and shaky, so you supported his weight from the car up the stairs to the door. He practically collapsed on the bed, his lanky legs dangling from the edge. You took his shoes off and guided his legs under the covers.

Timothée fell asleep quickly, overextended just from the short journey. In the brief moments when he was awake, you encouraged him to sip on electrolyte mix. A few hours later, he attempted to get up. He was so weak that it didn't take much energy on your part to push him back down by the shoulder.

"I don't think so, mister. The doctor said you needed to rest."

"[Y/N], I don't think getting up to go to a different room counts as physical activity," he retorted. It was good to see he had the energy to argue.

"Whatever you need, I can get it for you."

Timothée smirked and raised an eyebrow. "And what if I need to go pee?"

You spluttered, then laughed, knowing he got you on that one. "Well, I would say that is a good sign and one of the few things you can get up for."

"Thanks. I can maintain at least a shred of my dignity. Do you know how embarrassing it was to nearly fall out on set?"

You tucked a loose curl behind his ear. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Timmy. They see how hard you work. The cast and crew care about you. Your phone has been blowing up ever since we got home. Z already sent over some of your favorite snacks."

"That was nice of her."

"They all want you to take the time you need to recover. Completely," you emphasized, "and not a moment sooner."

He let his head fall back on the pillow. "You were right that I needed to slow down. I went straight from Bones and All to Wonka to Dune. I promise, even though I may grumble about it, I will be a good patient until I am cleared to go back."

"Good. Besides, it'll be nice to sleep in, cuddle, and make some progress on our watch list," you replied.

Timothée squeezed your hand. "I'm glad you're here; otherwise, the downtime would be unbearable."

You pouted your lip at the sweetness. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. I love you."

"I love you, too. But, babe, I really do need to go pee." You both laughed as you helped him stand.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet x you #timothee x you #Timothée x you #timothée x reader #timothee x reader #dune part 2 #dune2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #sick fic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #reader insert

[buckys-metal-arm]

Not Alone

Bucky x GN!Reader

Description: Bucky is refusing to come to terms with everything that’s happened following the fight with Thanos, and you know that the walls he’s carefully built up around his emotions are going to come crashing down one day. So what happens when they finally do?

Warnings: Angstyyyyy, Bucky is SAD, takes place somewhere between that and FATWS but idk where, crying, hurt/comfort, I don’t know if it’s an inherently “happy” ending per say, but it's a comforting one I think, some mentions of bad mental health, NOT Endgame!Steve Friendly (just like me)

A/N: I am sorry for this

((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))

Bucky had been struggling, you knew it.

You’d been by his side for long enough to know when he was trapped in his own mind

But this was different

Usually, you could at least get him to tell you what was wrong

But ever since the fight with Thanos he’d avoided talking about what was wrong

You could hardly blame him, it had been a difficult last few months

In the fallout of his return from spending 5 years as a dust pile and the subsequent fight, you had held Bucky’s hand through Tony’s funeral, being placed in a holding cell by the US Government, his pardon hearing, moving back to Brooklyn, starting his court-mandated therapy, and trying to acclimate to the modern world, and fully come to terms with the pain and torture HYDRA had inflicted him for decades.

And then of course there had been Steve.

You knew Bucky was upset and hurt over his best friend leaving him, and everyone else he had grown close to, behind to be with Peggy.

And you could hardly blame him.

Suffice to say, Bucky had been through few months alone, and you knew it had been hard on him

But whenever you had tried to ask him about it he simply smiled and said “I’m fine, Doll. I’m okay.”

But you couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t reach his eyes.

He was trying so hard to be strong, to push down how he was feeling, but you saw the seams starting to unravel

All the pain he’d been feeling for months finally came to a head late one night

You two were doing dishes after dinner, you were washing and he was drying

Occasionally, Bucky would bump his hip against yours, making you smile and gently splash water at him, making him laugh

You and your boyfriend loved this, just enjoying each other’s presence with the two of you being giant dorks together

Everything was good, you two were having fun

Until Bucky went to dodge one of your splashes and lost his grip on the glass he was drying.

The glass shattered on the floor below, and he immediately went tense.

“Oh God, Bucky!” You grabbed his flesh hand gently, checking for injury, “are you okay?”

He didn’t reply, but looked down at you touching his hand

“I don’t see any injuries. You’re alright, Sweetheart. I’m gonna clean up the glass, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, but he didn’t look up.

Cleaning up the shattered glass went quickly, but when you finished you noticed Bucky was staring blankly at the floor where you’d cleaned, his blue eyes misty

“Bucky?” You cupped his face, but he still wouldn’t look at you, “Talk to me Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

“N-nothing,” his voice was soft, like he was trying his hardest to keep it from wavering, “I’m fine, Doll.”

“If you can look me in the eyes and say that, I’ll believe you.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” it was almost a chant as he slowly lifted his head, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m–”

As soon as Bucky looked you in the face he burst into sobs, falling to his knees in front of you.

It tore a hole in your chest.

“Oh…” you knelt down in front of him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close, cradling his head against your shoulder, “oh Baby, oh, Bucky…”

He buried his face in your neck as you rocked him from side to side, your fingers carding through his hair, “shhhh, it’s alright, let it out, Baby Boy, let it all out…”

“H-He was my best friend,” Bucky whimpered, “h-he was my best friend, and he…he j-just fucking left me here–!”

“Oh, Baby, I know,” you kissed his temple, “I know. I’m so sorry, Sweet Boy…”

You held him tighter as he dissolved into sobs again.It broke your heart.

You knew that this was good for him, that Bucky had been fighting this for so long

He needed the release, the catharsis, but that didn’t mean it didn’t fill your broken heart with anger.

Anger at Steve for leaving the man in your arms behind in a world he didn’t understand, at the Government agents that treated him like a criminal for things that he had been forced to do when he had no control over his mind and body, at anyone who had ever caused this kind, sweet, gentle, loving man harm and left him unable to feel his emotions properly until he reached his absolute breaking point

When Bucky calmed down again you suggested moving to the couch

“It’ll be a lot more comfortable than the floor, Baby,” you said, gently taking his hand in yours and leading him to the living room

Once you two were seated you wrapped him in your arms again, keeping him close and rocking him.

“Talk to me, Baby, please,” you cupped his face, thumbing away his tears, “tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“It’s… I wasn’t worth it.” Bucky said in a quiet, broken voice, “I told Steve I wasn’t, back when he… when we were on our way to Siberia. He tried to tell me that I was, and being with you, in Wakanda, when I was finally free I started to think that maybe he was right, maybe I was worth saving. That I was deserving of some kind of peace. But then Steve–”

His voice cracked, and you gave him a comforting hug.

“I just keep thinking that if I was really worth what you all went through for me then he– he wouldn’t have left me here alone."

Tears flowed freely again, and you hugged him tightly to you, pressing comforting kisses to his temple

“Shhhhh, Baby Boy, it’s alright,” you whispered, “it’s gonna be alright…”

Bucky shook his head and buried his face further into your neck

“I just… it makes it hard, y’know?” You nodded and kissed his forehead, he took a deep breath and added, “I’m scared. I keep thinking that one day I’m gonna wake up and you’re not gonna be there. T-that you’re gonna realize the same thing he did. That I’m not worth all of this.”

“Oh… Oh no, oh, Bucky…” You rubbed his back, pressing kisses to the top of his head, “oh, Honey…”

You cradled his head against your chest, running your fingers through his hair and hushing him, rocking him from side to side.

Once he’d calmed down slightly you took his face in both hands, stroking his stubbly cheeks.

“Baby? Can you look at me, please?” His sad blue eyes met yours, and you gently wiped the tears from them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Bucky. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Baby. And I’m especially sorry that you were made to think like that.”

Bucky looked you in the eyes. No one had ever said that to him before.

“and speaking as someone who was involved in all of that trouble? You were absolutely worth it. Every minute of it. The two years Sam, Steve, and I spent looking for you, every fight, every bit of time spent on the run, every moment spent waiting for Shuri to okay letting you out of the ice in Wakanda. I would go through every second of it again if it meant that you got to be free, Sweet Boy. Even if you weren’t the man I love, even if you weren’t Steve’s best friend, even if you were just some guy I had no attachment to, I would fight just as hard if it meant you got to be safe and free from those monsters. Because you didn’t deserve HYDRA’s abuse, and you didn’t deserve to be punished for things you couldn’t control.”

He rested his hands over yours, and you pressed your forehead against yours

“I know it’s hard to trust anyone after what Steve did, I know. But I would never, ever leave you alone. I’m with you for the long haul, Sweetheart. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes."

His eyes searched your face, looking for any sign that it wasn’t true, and found nothing but genuine love and care. You gave him a soft sad smile.

“I’ll be here, right by your side, as long as you want me, Baby,” you kissed the tip of his nose, “you aren’t alone anymore, Buck. You’ll never be alone again.”

Bucky dissolved into tears in your arms again

“I-I’m sorry,” he cried over and over into your shoulder, embarrassed at his carrying on, “‘m sorry I keep cryin’...”

“Shhhhh….” you continued rocking him and rubbing his back, “you don’t have to apologize for expressing your emotions, Sweetheart. You’re allowed to feel bad. You’re allowed to let it out. I’ll be here for you.”

You held Bucky until he calmed down, and he let you lead him into the bathroom to clean his face with a cool cloth, not wanting the salt from his tears to irritate his skin, and showering him with affection and love.

When you two finally laid down to sleep that night you held the man you loved as close as humanly possible, pressing little kisses to his hairline and rubbing his back

Bucky nestled into your chest, listening to your heartbeat and relishing the feeling of skin-to-skin contact

“Get some sleep, Baby Boy,” you whispered, “I’ll always be here when you wake up. I love you so much, my Darling.”

Bucky looked up at you, a small but genuine smile on his face.

The first you had seen in the months since Thanos

“I love you too.” he kissed your lips, “goodnight, Doll.”

As Bucky drifted off in your arms, he felt better.

Lighter.

Better than he had in months.

He wasn’t cured, he knew that.

The demons of his past still haunted him, still clawed at the edges of his mind and whispered that he wasn’t worth the pain

But knowing that he wasn’t alone, that you would stay by him and support him through even his darkest days?

That you wouldn’t leave no matter what?

Maybe he could finally start to heal

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #hurt/comfort #bucky barnes headcanon

[rynwritesreid]

This is v specific so totally get if it’s like too much pressure, but what about angst/fluff with a BAU reader. It’s her birthday, and Penelope tried to throw a little office surprise party for her after snooping through her file, not knowing she doesn’t like her birthday. Her dad died on her birthday years ago, so when everyone starts singing and all this attention’s on her she freaks out and leaves. Then Spencer goes to see what’s wrong and they spend the day together on her terms (very hurt/comfort yk?)

A/N: To everyone who has lost a dad, or any close family member/friend, I am so very sorry. Grief is a difficult process, but I do know that it does hurt less eventually, and you can talk about them without crying. I truly do love all of you guys and please feel free to reach out if you need someone to listen to you. I hope this story does bring someone comfort though.

Also, I want to give @iluvreid a lil shoutout, and if you want to follow an amazing person, follow her. She always proofreads my work, and gives me the best requests. ILY.

Summary: After Garcia, and the rest of the team, surprise you for your birthday, you're forced to face how hard this day really is for you.

Content: Hurt/Comfort (angst to a degree). Grief. A lot of talks about losing a father figure. Comforting!Spencer. Sad!reader. Fluff.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

As the last notes of "Happy Birthday" faded away, you stood frozen in place, unable to move. Everyone's eyes were fixed on you, waiting for you to make a move, and cut the cake. Garcia's face was beaming with a wide smile, clearly proud of herself for throwing this surprise party for your special day. "I had to do some snooping through your file to find out when it is," she admitted with a delighted singsong voice. 

You could feel your eyes welling up, you knew you meant to feel happy, especially knowing Garcia had put so much effort into this. But you hated your birthday, it was no longer a happy day to you. All you could imagine now was getting that call, one to inform you that your dad had sadly passed away.

Without saying a word to anyone, you run out of the building hearing Garcia, Emily, and JJ shouting after you, trying to stop you. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you sprinted down the street, the distant sounds of your friends' voices fading behind you. Tears blurred your vision as you pushed yourself to keep running, desperate to outrun the memories that threatened to consume you.

You didn't stop until you reached the park, the familiar sight offering a semblance of peace. Collapsing onto a bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sobs wracking through your body. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, the weight of grief pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hadn’t told anyone about how much you hated your birthday, and the only one who knew about your dad dying was Spencer. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you felt a presence beside you on the bench. Looking up through tear-streaked eyes, you saw Spencer standing there, concern etched in his features. He didn't say anything, just sat quietly next to you, offering his silent support.

“Everyone’s going to hate me, aren’t they Spencer.” You wanted to know, your voice barely a whisper amidst the sounds of the park. Spencer shook his head gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

"No one is going to hate you," he replied softly, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We all care about you, and we just want to help."

"It's just... every year on my birthday, I can't help but remember the day I got that call about my dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “And I know I should have told someone, but I just couldn’t.”

Spencer listened attentively, his presence a calming balm to your raw emotions. His gaze was warm and understanding, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain. The weight of unspoken grief hung heavy in the air between you, a shared moment of vulnerability that drew you closer together.

"I understand," Spencer finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle. "Losing someone you love is never easy, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed, especially on days like today."

His words offered a sense of solace, a reminder that it was alright to struggle with the memories that haunted you. You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension begin to ease from your shoulders as you leaned into Spencer's comforting presence.

"I should have told you all," you admitted quietly, the weight of guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to run out like that... I just couldn't handle it."

Spencer's expression softened even further; his eyes filled with compassion. "It's okay," he reassured you, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "We all have our own ways of coping with pain, and it's alright to take the time you need to heal."

“I don't know how to face this day anymore, Spencer," Spencer's hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, offering a steadying presence. "You don't have to face it alone," he said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "We're here for you, no matter what you need. Whether it's to talk, to cry, or just to be with someone, we'll stand by you."

“Is it okay if I just spend the day with you? I’d like to do some stuff to remember my dad by if that’s okay?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d be honoured to spend the day with you and remember your dad together. Just let me call Hotch first to tell him you’re okay.” Spencer dialled Hotch's number and explained the situation while you sat beside him, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude wash over you. As Hotch assured Spencer that everything was under control back at the office, Spencer turned to you with a gentle smile.

"We have all the time you need," Spencer said softly, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that resonated with your own pain. "Let's take today to honour your dad in a way that feels right to you."

“Is it okay if we go for a little drive, I always give my dad his favourite flowers and write him a letter. It makes me feel closer to him.” Spencer nodded; his expression filled with unwavering support. "Of course, let's go," he said, standing up from the bench and offering you a hand. You took it gratefully, rising to your feet as a sense of calm settled over you. The weight of your grief felt a little lighter with Spencer by your side, his quiet strength a grounding presence.

Together, you walked out of the park and towards Spencer's car. The drive was quiet, the soft hum of the engine providing a comforting background noise. You watched the world pass by in a blur, lost in your thoughts as memories of your dad flooded your mind.

When you reached the flower shop, Spencer parked the car and turned to you. "Take all the time you need," he said gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You nodded, grateful for his understanding, before stepping out of the car and into the fragrant shop.

The shop was a riot of colour and scents, the vibrant blooms lining the shelves like a kaleidoscope of memories. You moved through the aisles with a sense of purpose, selecting your father's favourite flowers with care. Spencer followed quietly behind you, a silent presence of support as you gathered the blooms in your arms.

As you made your selection, you approached the counter to pay for the flowers. The florist, a kind-faced woman with gentle eyes, looked at you with understanding as she rang up your purchase. "These are beautiful choices," she remarked softly, her voice tinged with empathy.

"Thank you," you replied, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. The weight of grief sat heavy in your chest as you accepted the bouquet, cradling it carefully in your arms.

Stepping back out into the sunlight, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The drive to the cemetery was quiet, the gentle presence of Spencer beside you offering a sense of peace. As you approached your father's resting place, the familiar sight of his gravestone brought a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over you.

You knelt down by the grave, arranging the flowers with care as tears welled in your eyes. Spencer stood a few steps behind you, giving you the space to grieve while offering his silent support. With trembling hands, you placed the bouquet at the base of the gravestone, your fingers brushing against the cold stone surface.

"I miss you, Dad," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur. Memories of him flooded your mind – his laughter, his guidance, his unwavering love. The ache in your chest felt raw and consuming, but being here, honouring his memory with Spencer by your side, brought a sense of solace.

The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed to echo the whispered words you spoke to your father's memory. Spencer moved to stand beside you, a silent sentinel as you poured your heart out. The weight of your grief felt momentarily lighter with each word you uttered, each shared memory a balm to your wounded soul.

"I wish you were here, Dad," you continued, your voice filled with longing. "I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, how much I still need you." The tears flowed freely now; tracks of sorrow etched on your cheeks as you laid bare the depth of your pain.

"I know he's watching over you," Spencer said softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "He's proud of the person you've become, and he'll always be a part of you, guiding you through the difficult moments."

Spencer's words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “Thank you for being here with me," you whispered, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer's gaze was unwavering, filled with a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. "You don't have to face this alone," he said softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush away a stray tear from your cheek. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

“Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” Spencer offered, his voice gentle and reassuring. You took a moment to consider, the weight of grief still heavy on your shoulders but somewhat lifted by Spencer's unwavering support. After a moment's pause, you looked up at him with a small smile playing on your lips.

"I would like to go to that little cafe my dad and I used to frequent," you said, a faint glimmer of nostalgia in your eyes. "It would mean a lot to me to revisit those memories today."

Spencer nodded, his expression warm and understanding. "Let's go," he replied simply, offering you his hand as you rose from where you knelt by your father's grave. The two of you made your way back to the car, the drive to the cafe filled with a comfortable silence.

The cafe was just as you remembered it - cosy and inviting, with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. As you and Spencer settled into a corner booth, memories of shared laughter and quiet conversations with your dad flooded your mind.

"I remember how much he loved coming here," you said softly, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. "He would always order the same thing and sit by the window, watching the world go by."

"He sounds like an amazing man," Spencer replied, his voice warm with genuine interest. "I wish I could have met him."

You shared stories of your dad with Spencer, recounting cherished moments and funny anecdotes that made the weight of grief feel a little lighter.

Another A/N: If you seek help, or advice while dealing with grief, please do not be afraid to reach out to anyone/someone.

Sibling support (for those dealing with the loss of a sibling)

The good grief trust

The grief gang

Cruse-parent loss

What’s your grief-podcast

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @julllliiia @xohoneybun @purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @cham9ions @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @beth-gallagher22 @lookingforgodintheclouds @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @waywardhunter95 @r-3dlips @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @skulliecadaver-blog @svnfully @lover-of-books-and-tea @jem08 @ladylincoln @niktwazny303 @sleepysongbirdsings @st4rdusks @roowse @spicyspirit @reidsbiitch @hiireadstuff @18lkpeters @marypaol

PLEASE ONLY ADD YOURSELF ONCE, AND IF YOU ARE NOT ON HERE YOUR TAG DOES NOT WORK

#hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #bau team #criminal minds fic #penelope garcia

[tommy-kinard-is-a-beast-kitty]

I want Tommy to just take care of buck. I want him to comfort him and make him feel loved in the most mundane of situations.

Just imagine buck has an upset stomach or something. Like he's had his leg crushed by a ladder truck he can handle this pain easy peasy, but you know what he's human and it's uncomfortable. But most of all he doesn't just have to handle it by himself because Tommy's there. He'll get him some pepto, rub his back make him peppermint tea and nap with him.

Like he would have been just fine by himself, but now he doesn't have to. He has someone who can't bear to see him in even the slightest bit of discomfort.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #hurt/comfort

[potatoesarecheese]

batfam au where bruce gave up the batman costume when he became dick's dad, because he was mentally sane enough to realise that an actual child should not be fighting actual murders.

and the world carried on.

batman becomes a folktale, something that parents use to get their children to sleep, and something that every thug thinks about when the night just a little too quiet and things are going a little too well.

occasionally, some angsty teenager or some bitter man will make their own costume, and try to be batman. and it makes headlines, it keeps criminals in check. but these New Batmen never carry that mantle for very long.

Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph, Babs, Duke, everyone. They are never found, they are never rescued, they are never born. the villains never become villains. the joker disappears

sometimes, Alfred gets this feeling that there's someone missing, multiple someones, but he doesn't even know who. he mourns a family he's never had, and holds space for someone that he never knew.

but the world carries on

this all changes when two things happen very, very quickly.

One, some scrappy teenager flies to Ethiopia, looking for a mother he didn't even know and drops of the grid. completely unrelated to this teenager, a warehouse explodes

Two, dick starts poking around the manor, accidentally stumbling upon the remains of his father's past-- is father is Batman. was batman. and dick doesn't really know what to do with that information. so he does the only logical thing and tries to become the actual Batman.

At first, he tries to be batman without any training and immediately gets his ass handed to him. And, while he's dragging his broken body to the cave, he sees Alfred. Alfred, who patches him up and tells him that, if he's going to be batman, he needs to go back to the classics.

he needs to tell bruce.

he needs to tell bruce, or bruce is going to figure it out for himself. he isn't the worlds greatest detective for nothing, and it's better to tell him sooner rather than later.

when dick tells bruce, bruce... doesn't know what to think. he doesn't want his son -his precious son- to go out fighting the one-man war that he'd once tried to fight. but he also knows that there's probably nothing that he can do to stop dick.

the best way for Bruce to protect who he loves is to teach him how to fight. how to actually fight.

and so he does.

he trains Dick with everything that he knows. teaches him with the intensity and the drive that canon Bruce taught Tim. He will not lose his son, he will not let dick lose the one-man war. and he will not let his past as Batman be the thing that tears his family apart.

The Batman returns to the streets of Gotham. Criminal activity is at an all time low. the people who would have become villains have already moved on with their lives.

so the world carries on, bringing Batman with it.

end of part one (because this has been rotting in my drafts and I need to post this now or ill forget again)

#batman #batfam #au #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dc comics #batman au #red hood #the joker #i’ve been thinking about this all day #all week really #I have a million individual scenes all playing out in my head that I fantasize about whenever I'm bored and have nothing to do #hurt/comfort #fanfic #fanficion

[mayashesfly]

New and Old

Obsessed with the idea that Vox's true form is an electric demon.

And that he needs to upgrade and change himself as his powers grow or else his body won't be able to handle itself and he'll explode and permanently die.

The first time his body just couldn't handle itself anymore from his growing power, he had been out of commission for a week before he could force himself to change heads and ease the growing ear-splitting ache in his mind.

When he was finally able to meet Alastor again after he changed his head, he didn't miss the way he grimaced and his shadow's animalistic growl.

It had almost hurt as much as the pain of nearly dying.

But he deigned not to say a word because surely it won't need to happen again.

But it did.

Again and again.

As each meeting grows strained and he deigns to keep his mouth shut to ensure he wouldn't leave him alone from a single misplaced sound.

One time he delayed the inevitable as long as he can

That he was out of commission for months before he could finally gather enough courage to face Alastor yet again, knowing the way he'll detest him and his new head.

"It's been months and the way he'll show his little picture box head again is with a disgusting upgrade?"

He knows he doesn't like it.

But he can't do much or else he'll die.

Alastor didn't know that.

Didn't understand that.

Because Vox never said a word.

When their friendship fell apart and Vox got together with Valentino, he always asked after Valentino noticed he had upgraded his head yet again.

"Do you not like it?"

Valentino would just frown for a moment before he would gently caress Vox's screen as he looks over the new upgrades with gently eyes.

Saying as always,

"It's new... I like new" with a smug smile.

New sounding rather similar to you.

Valentino may not understand why Vox has to upgrade his head regularly.

But it doesn't bother him.

Not at all when the demon inside it is still the very same despite all of the change

#may asher writes #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #radiostatic #onewaybroadcast #staticmoth #angst #hurt/comfort

[steddieas-shegoes]

disposable hero

for @steddiesongfics using the song disposable heroes by metallica released (appropriately and specifically for eddie munson to come back) in 1986

rated m | 1919 words | cw: implied sexual content, temporary character death, implied violence, blood, mind/body control | tags: kas!eddie, the good guys win, getting together, reunions, first kiss, hurt/comfort

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Eddie woke to nothing.

Well, there was something. There were things.

But nothing that led him to believe he was safe, or even alive.

He was cold. He was pretty sure if he was dead he wouldn’t feel cold. Or maybe he would. Maybe this was his own version of hell: darkness and a cold that lingers in your bones, seeking sunlight it will never find.

Time doesn’t seem to pass, but he knows it is. The solitude only adds to the lingering emptiness in his chest.

He yearns for warmth, yearns for a friendly face, someone to talk to. He isn’t sure where he is. His last memory was Dustin crying, and he thinks he can vaguely remember someone else yelling his name and apologizing, but he can’t be too sure of anything in this place.

There isn’t much to do except wander, hope for someone or something to appear to make some sense of where he is.

He’s alone.

He’s scared, but trying not to be.

He’s pretty sure he’s been abandoned, but is trying so hard not to let that bother him. The weight in his chest at the thought of everyone moving on isn’t quite as heavy as the weight at the thought of him being dead.

Eventually, the knowledge that he was being watched was all he could focus on. He couldn’t figure out who it was, where they were, or what they were hoping to see.

He kept wandering, hoping for any sign, communication, a way to get back home.

A voice in his head told him to prepare, but he didn’t know what for. The voice told him to be ready for blood, to be ready to taste.

The voice told him he’d be on the frontlines, but frontlines for what?

He wasn’t reliable under pressure, as evidence clearly showed. He didn’t feel like he was capable of what this voice wanted.

But he felt the compulsion to listen, to do what the voice asked. Something in the back of his mind pulled until he lost the ability to reason against the voice.

His time blurred even more, the darkness became a background thought as the voice spoke to him, spouting words that would sink deeply into his hindbrain.

********

Eddie heard voices, something different from the voice telling him to prepare. He could recognize them vaguely.

One voice in particular, though this time it wasn’t crying and begging him to be okay.

Henderson.

The voice in his head pulled him away, made him ignore the freedom in that tone.

He didn’t feel anything for a while. He didn’t see anything. He wasn’t anything.

And then he heard it.

His name.

He saw Steve standing in the corner of a completely destroyed house. The room was unrecognizable but it vaguely resembled a bedroom.

“Eddie. Please. This isn’t you.”

What did that even mean? Of course it was him. He was Eddie.

He looked down at his hands, bloody and shaking, claws covered in unrecognizable debris. His clothes were torn, his body was sore, bruised in places he didn’t realize he could.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie did. He could listen to this voice. He could let this voice drown out the other one, the one trying so hard to control and push and shove him into a battle he didn’t want to be a part of.

“You’re okay. You didn’t hurt any of the kids,” Steve was holding his hands up as he came closer, slowly. “You won’t hurt me, right?”

Eddie grunted.

“You’ll be okay. I promise. El is helping and we’ll get you home. You wanna go home, right?”

Did he? Up until now, he didn’t know going home was an option. He didn’t even know there was a home to go back to.

What was home? What did he remember?

Steve’s hands covered his, and Eddie tried to pull away.

“Blood.” Eddie’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He wasn’t even sure if Steve heard.

“I don’t care,” Steve reached for his hands again. “It’s been a year of wishing I could fix what happened. A year of wanting to know what your hands feel like when you’re not dying in my arms.”

Eddie felt a strange whimpering noise bubble out of his throat as he took in the state of Steve.

He couldn’t remember everything, but he knew this wasn’t the Steve that he went into the Upside Down with. This was a shell of the Steve he knew. Dark circles under his eyes made him look pale and withdrawn, and his hair had been cut shorter. He seemed thin, missing some of the muscle in his arms and legs.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, Eds. I’m gonna keep you safe. You’re gonna stay here with me until I get a signal that El is done with what she needed to do.”

“Safe. Steve safe?”

The beaming smile on Steve’s face seemed out of place, but Eddie couldn’t help giving what he hoped was a decent smile back. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to smile.

“I’m safe. We’re gonna keep each other safe now.”

The voice in his head was white noise compared to the soothing words coming from Steve.

Minutes passed, and Eddie found it easy to be present with Steve, taking mental note of every movement.

Steve had pulled off his jacket and used it to wipe off as much of the mess coating their skin as he could, only pausing for a moment at the sharp claws replacing normal fingernails on Eddie’s hand.

A flash outside the window followed by a silence made Eddie look at Steve with a silent question in his eyes.

“Alright, we gotta go.”

Steve pulled Eddie along, out of the house that didn’t fit in Eddie’s memories, down the road and towards a set of bikes laying on the ground.

“Kids should be here any second-“

He was interrupted by yelling.

“Eddie!” Dustin and Mike were the first ones to them, but Steve held his hand up to stop them.

His other hand stayed locked with Eddie’s.

“Don’t overwhelm him. One at a time. Slow.”

The kids listened, and something in Eddie’s brain was shocked at that. Were they bad kids?

Dustin hugged him, but Eddie could tell he was holding back. He wrapped his one available arm around him and awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“Henderson.”

Dustin looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. “Yeah, man. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Wheeler.” Eddie looked up at Mike, who was very obviously struggling to maintain composure. “Taller.”

Everyone laughed and Steve squeezed his hand. Mike leaned in for a hug, but was interrupted by yelling.

“Eddie!” Lucas barreled over, ignoring Steve’s too-late warning to take it easy.

That’s okay, though. Eddie was pretty strong now.

He held all three of them against him, not letting go of Steve’s hand the entire time.

Warmth flooded back in, pushing the cold back to where it belonged instead of inside him.

********

“What is he?” Eddie overheard Dustin ask Steve outside the bathroom.

“Not sure. Alive, though. That’s the most important thing.”

Eddie had been ordered to shower, but he’d been quick, and they hadn’t shown him how to turn the water off. There were at least six different knobs or dials that didn’t make sense. He was just standing there with a towel over his shoulders, naked, listening to their conversation.

“Do you think he’s still dangerous?”

“I don’t think he was ever a danger to us. He would’ve hurt us-”

“He hurt you.”

Eddie let out a whimper before slamming open the door.

“Oh, God, dude! Clothes!” Dustin yelled before turning and walking away.

Steve pushed him all the way into the bathroom and closed the door, pointedly not looking below his chest.

“Let’s get the towel on you,” Steve suggested, tugging it off his shoulder and trying to wrap it around his waist without looking.

Eddie could care less about the towel. He knocked Steve’s hands away and tried to look over every inch of visible skin.

“Hurt?”

“Only a little. I’m okay. You stopped,” Steve tried again to get the towel around Eddie for his modesty, but Eddie wasn’t having it.

“Fix it.”

Steve felt his eyes water. “It’s just some scratches. They’ll heal quick.”

“Fix.”

Steve pulled his shirt up and Eddie saw the “scratches.” They were more like gashes, one even maybe needed stitches.

“Always a hero.”

Steve snorted, pulling his shirt back down. “Pan meet pot.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. Steve waved it off.

“Anyway, I can clean it up as soon as you’re done. You look done. Are you done?”

Eddie wasn’t letting Steve brush him off. The more aware he became, the more he remembered, and he knew Steve was the type to brush off even the worst injuries.

“Fix. Now.”

He pushed Steve against the counter as gently as possible, pulled his shirt off over his head, and dropped to his knees to look at the bloody lines along already-healed scars.

“Eddie-” Steve sounded breathless.

Eddie looked up at him, hands gently covering his hips. “I did it?”

Steve’s breath left him in a rush as he pulled Eddie’s hands away and fell to his knees in front of him.

“Vecna did it. He used you to hurt all of us, but you only got me a little before you realized.” Steve was warm, always so warm. Eddie had a hard time focusing on his words when the heat from his skin was calling out to him louder. “You stopped on your own. I’m okay.”

“Warm. Mine.”

If Steve wasn’t warm before, he certainly was now.

“Eds, you’re, um. You should get dressed.”

“No. Warm.” Eddie pulled Steve into his chest and held him there, letting the warmth take over completely.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he breathed out, voice shaking. Eddie could feel his breathing where their chests were touching, uneven and borderline panicking. “Missed you so much.”

“Here now.”

“Yeah,” Steve let out a small laugh. “You are. Can’t believe it.”

“Yours?” Eddie felt exhaustion seeping in where the cold had been present before. He wasn’t sure if he was even coherent enough for Steve to understand.

Steve’s lips brushed against his bare shoulder before he pulled back. “Yours like…a boyfriend?”

Eddie wracked his brain trying to figure out what exactly a boyfriend was. He never had one, he didn’t think.

But he remembered thinking as he was dying the first time that Steve would be a good boyfriend. He remembered feeling like he could be a good boyfriend for Steve.

“Hold hands?”

Steve giggled. “Yeah, we could do that. Like earlier?”

“Kiss.”

Steve’s smile faltered. “Yeah. Could do that if you want.”

Eddie felt his own smile growing, watching as Steve blushed.

“Kiss?” He asked this time, wanting Steve to be able to say no. He didn’t want Steve to feel like he had no choice, not when Eddie knew firsthand what it was like to have your choices taken from you.

Steve nodded, leaning in to gently press his lips to Eddie’s.

“I should shower,” Steve said against his mouth.

“Me too.”

“You already did,” Steve snorted.

“Again.”

“Even when you don’t have words, you’re a menace,” Steve shook his head fondly before pecking his lips again. “Fine, but the kids are all downstairs and they will check on us soon if we don’t come down.”

“Later?”

Steve nodded. “Later,” he promised.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiesongfics #kas!eddie munson #hurt/comfort #first kiss #getting together

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒’𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡’𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒🤍 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼’𝑚 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠， 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑜 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑑 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟❄︎．．

𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒♡︎

Warnings + grief, loss, crying, comfort, fluff

“𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎, 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒍��𝒆𝒑. 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕. 𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆, 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅...“

࣪𖤐๋࣭ ໒꒱✧. • 𐙚˙⋆.˚. .

“Please, please let me in.”

The love of your life pleaded to you from outside the bathroom where you had locked yourself, the sounds of your sobs echoing out. All your repressed emotions over her, bubbling over into the mess you were now.

The first couple weeks have been….hazy. At first you thought that if you just kept up life as you normally did, it would be easier to deal with when you finally did face it but you just couldn’t do it.

In fact, your struggles started almost immediately as you battled with either trying to forget or reliving every moment you shared with your mom and trying to convince yourself that you would be fine.

The longing tore you in two. It was in the way you’d miss her.

So from there you let yourself drift hollowly.

Joe knew what had happened, who you lost and his heart broke for you, wanting nothing more than for you to let him be there for you. Yet everytime he saw you, it seemed like more pieces were missing each time. He loved you, so deeply…and it was that same love that moved him to say what he’d been swallowing down whenever he’d see you.

“It’s not your fault.”

You had been about to leave and moved to hug him before you left when his embrace turned softer as he held you close, whispering gently as he looked into eyes that had been hurting so much. He knew it hurt you for him to just put it out there like that but he needed to. For you.

Snapping your head up, the familiar hot ache in your chest started as your eyes filled with tears and you shook your head, trying to back up but Joe had already made up his mind that he was going to hold you.

“Stop. I know-“, you hushed out, trying to move past this quickly as possible.

“No. No sweetheart, you don’t.”

Quick breathing as you moved out of his strong arms, blinking furiously as tears already streamed down your face. You look at him, biting your lip to stop the wail clawing up your throat when you see the concern in his pretty baby blue’s you adored so much.

“It’s not your fault.”

And the sky falls, crumbling in your chest as you break.

Joe reaches out and you speed away, gasping wetly as tears blur your vision, chest hurting just like the day it happened and the next thing you know you’re in the first room you came across as you lock the door. Dropping to the ground as your heart shatters.

It hurt so bad, you were shaking as your arms wrap around yourself then you hear his voice.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…but it’s not your fault.” His wounded voice rasps out, pressing his forehead against the door as he kneels.

“Please. Talk to me.” He’s there, he just prays you can feel it and you do, moving to press your forehead against the door where he is.

Shakily inhaling, you try to get it out as best you can.

“I think- i-I need help…but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do..”

“Well I-I’m here. And I’ll be here just…how can I help you if you don’t let me in?”

You hear his hand making shapes against the wood and it’s so familiar that the tears flow faster. His presence was effortlessly soothing, it matched the way he loved you perfectly.

“I-“, you get cut off by your own cries.

Joe meets you where you need him as he speaks again.

“It’s okay. I understand and I’m here, alright baby? Just hear me. Hold onto my voice okay?” He’s fighting back tears of his own, stricken by the sound of your pain.

You whisper out a broken, watery ‘okay’ but he hears you and runs with it.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”, and you do, “Picture my voice like a boat in the middle of the ocean…do you see it?” Nodding, you try to calm down.

“Then swim towards it, honey. I’ll get us to shore.”

And you do.

Getting up, you unlock and open the door.

You look at each other for a brief second before he’s lifting you into his arms, holding you soundly as you stop fighting and let it flow. Joe keeps his voice steady as he talks you through it, smoothing his warm hands over you, giving you himself as a tether so you don’t get lost in your grief.

“It’s alright. I know it hurts but it’s okay.”

“Whatever you need, let it out. I’ll be here.”

“All those emotions, everything that’s hurting, anything that’s to heavy for you to carry, give those to me, okay? I’m strong. I’ll hold it for you so just let me.”

“I love you.”

Time stops as you stay in his embrace, his low voice helping you process without immediately drowning. You’re exhausted emotionally but you don’t feel so hopeless anymore, having checked your blind spot and finding that love was still there.

Your cries eventually fade into slow breaths and occasional hiccups as you nuzzle into him. You’ll always miss her but that’s just fine.

More time passes and Joe soothes you through every second until you finally find your voice.

“…Joe? Y’still with me?” You’ve never broken down like this before, especially in front of someone you’re in love with so your a bit self conscious.

But him?

“I never left you.”

Lifting your head to look him in his face, you bend down and he meets you slowly in a soft kiss, caressing your cheek lovingly with the back of his knuckles. It’s so sweet, a faint smile spreads across your face as you look at him. Joe mirrors your expression before asking what he could do.

“I think I’ll need time. But for now, I don’t care what we do, I just want you to hold me.” Joe hums and presses another tender kiss to your face.

“Alright, then how’s about we get outta here?” And he’s right. A change of scenery would be great to you right now.

“Like where?”

“A boat ride. You, me, and the water. S’that okay, sweets?” Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that you’re okay and if it takes a while to feel it then that’s okay too. You weren’t alone.

Kissing his cheek, you rest your head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Okay”.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #asks #answered💛🎀 #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #the boys in the boat #joe rantz #joe rantz x reader #x reader #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fluff

[sugurusombereyes]

house song | geto suguru

“saviour pulled from an open mouth, did you want to be something more?”

summary: geto is drowning and you are his anchor.

warnings: mention of suicide once, hurt/comfort, gonna make you miserable, allusions to struggles with depression, really sad :)

a/n : thank you for 300 notes on my other geto blurb 🥹🥹🥹

wc: 821 words

five days you had been gone, five days it took geto to get out of bed.

the house was perfectly clean, a fresh aroma hitting your face as you walked into your house. the place was practically gleaming. the dishes had been done and counter wiped down, the couch and cushions put perfectly into place as well as the floor freshly hoovered and clean. just like how you left it when you left for your girls five day vacation.

but something was off

the apartment was full of silence, the absence of what makes your house a home pouring through the closed faucets and leaking from the slightly closed cushion covers that geto never bothered to close as you both would struggle to take them off as he complained.

(he kept them a quarter open so he'd see your angry face when you'd call them ugly and then proceed to complain about the whole house as he threw you on the couch himself, with that same laugh that made his heart skip a beat the first time he met you)

you were outside your room, the door slightly open as you softly smiled at geto laying on the bed. the darkness that engulfed the room poured out onto your white socks, travelling up to your neck and sending a shiver down your spine as something just didn't feel right.

which was unusual as everything felt right when it came to him.

"suguru?" you pushed open the door, he heard you come in and could practically feel your smile that plastered your face when you walked in brighten the darkness that covered him like his favourite blanket as a kid. suguru and you were complete opposites, he was a listener and you were a complete rambler. he was good with kids and you mostly just made fun of them whenever you were in the presence of them. he was the one the elders would refer to as 光 (hikari), the light that always seemed to seep its way through the darkness of environments and you were referred as the grey cloud that hung over him, dimming out his light.

(if only they knew he only did that so you could shine brighter)

“hi.”

he rolled over so you could see his face as you stepped into the room, closing it as you went to turn on the light. geto looked like he hadn’t slept for days, even though he was laying in bed and looked like he hadn’t gotten up since you had left.

“hi,” you sympathetically smile at him, your warmth unfreezing his features which he kept plain while you were gone. you crawled into the bed with him, burying yourself under the covers as he was and let him mold his body into yours.

“missed you,” he softly breathed onto the bare skin exposed on your chest, spreading goosebumps throughout your smooth skin and he rubbed lazy circles onto your arm. something was off about him, wearing the same shirt he had as the day you left and his eyes irritated as if he has been crying.

(not like the empty tissue box beside his bed didn’t immediately scream at you the minute you entered the room)

“you okay?”

you asked softly, already knowing the answer but asking to ask anyways. he always said that made him feel appreciated.

your voice dripped like honey into his veins, rushing through them and wrapping around his heart as you ran a hand through his growing hair. tugging and squeezing it as you rested your cheek upon his head patiently waiting for his answer, “it came back.” he muttered, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

it came back

your mind lingered on his words, the memory of geto drunkenly uttering how he felt miserable all the time circling your brain and stitching itself into the nooks of your brain. he had then smoothed it over the morning after, calling it a ‘drunken mistake’, how everything he said didn’t mean anything and he was so out of it he barely remembers. you had brushed it off until the morning after you felt his hot tears burn into the crook of your neck, leaving the scar of his re occurring thoughts that held captive of him when he was alone, but loosened the noose once he was in your arms.

he had then told you how he constantly felt like he was drowning, but there was nothing to actually drown in so he felt like he was slowly killing himself no matter how hard he would try to swim to the top. geto was vomiting up too many words he had vowed to tell anyone, all of it spreading down the bed onto the floor full of how he felt as rotten as his insides.

“good thing i’m here to help you swim then, yeah?”

#geto x you #geto suguru #jjk suguru #suguru fluff #jjk fluff #fluff #hurt/comfort #geto x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #geto x y/n

[astralis-ortus]

everything will be okay

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— everyone deserves a chan in their lifes.

w.count → 0.4k genre → hurt/comfort warning → mentions of traumatic experiences, mild cussing, subtle mention of possible intoxication a.n → could be triggering, so please check in with yourself if you're in a good headspace before reading

wouldn’t it be nice to be chan’s friend?

sometimes he’d call you up just to show some random stuff he’d been working on, or maybe he’d tell you about something odd he came across just a while earlier that reminds him of you. sometimes it’s a simple voice call, but more often than not he’d facetime you even if it’s just a couple minutes long. he’d take the time you check up on you, because he knows what it feels like to be lonely and didn’t want his friends to ever feel the same way.

when he’s on break, chan would be sure to make up all the postponed and rescheduled game nights or short getaways he couldn’t tag in. he’d go through lengths to make sure everything is perfect; be it something as simple as foods, to something bigger like flight tickets and accomodation. after all, he wants everyone to be happy during the rare times he could spend with them—so when next time he again became the only one to miss out on all the fun, the lot wouldn’t forget to keep him up to speed and looked forward to the next time he could be there in person.

oh, don’t even start with birthdays. chan would make sure the presents he got you is the perfect fit for you. sometimes he’d just straight up ask what you wanted or need, but on the rare occasions he wanted to go the extra length (or maybe when you just refuse to take any presents from him), he’d definitely ask around your friend group to hear about any squeak of ‘oh i need to buy this’ or ‘damn i really wanted that thing’ you might’ve let slip within the past couple months. he'd want to make you feel the best on your birthdays, because he knew how terrifying it is to feel like hitting rock bottom on his birthdays.

as your best friend, chan wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything when you texted him you needed someone to talk to. he’d come over with sweets and ice cream because he didn’t want you to intoxicate yourself while you’re not even in your best shape, or if he’s not physically able to be there, he’d make sure to facetime you straight away while texting a couple other friends to physically drop by and check up on you. chan would be there and listen, because he knew how suffocating it is having to bottle everything up inside.

chan would be the best out of any friends you’ve ever had in your life,

hence,

when it’s your time to be there for chan,

no matter how big or small his worries might be,

you’d make sure to show up for him in a heartbeat.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

#stray kids hurt/comfort #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan hurt/comfort #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids au #skz au #bang chan au #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan scenarios #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #bang chan headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #bang chan x you #stray kids #skz #bang chan #hurt/comfort #isa's fics #isa's headcanons

[serickswrites]

hello I've been reading your blog for a while now and I really love your writing!!

I was wondering if you could write something with a whumpee pushing themselves too far, like they're very weak but still get out of bed just to try to prove to caretaker they're not useless, even though they're on the verge of passing out

that's it bye!! you're amazing :D

Hello, anon! Happy to write this for you, no problem at all! Please enjoy!

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced hospital, wounds, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery, hurt/aftermath, unconsciousness

Whumpee rose on shaking legs. It had taken the better part of an hour to sit up and stand. The healing wound in their gut protested with each movement. But they couldn't stay in bed any longer. They had to get up and do something.

They didn't care that they had only been released from the hospital two days ago. They didn't care that they had almost bled out in Whumper's compound. They didn't care that they had survived weeks of torture. All they cared about was not being a burden to Caretaker.

And so they had to get up.

As the room began to swim as they took a few stumbling steps forward, Whumpee wondered for a moment if they had overdone it. If they should turn around and go back to bed. But they had made it this far. They had to show Caretaker they weren't a complete invalid.

Slowly, painfully slow, Whumpee made their way out into the hall. Once there, they clutched onto the wall for dear life with each step. One had on their belly, keeping sure their stitches were still in place, and the other on the wall, Whumpee made their way to the living room where they knew Caretaker would be.

Black spots filled their vision as they walked. Sweat poured down their back. But still, Whumpee kept going. They had to.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted as they started at the sight of Whumpee. "Good lord, sit down. You look terrible."

Whumpee felt terrible. Their whole body shook with the effort to remain upright. But they had to keep going. "'mmmmm fffffinnnnnne," they said as they stumbled.

The ground swam up to meet Whumpee, but hands kept them from falling. "I've got you. I've got you. Let's get you back to bed."

As much as Whumpee wanted to reply, wanted to tell Caretaker everything was fine, Whumpee knew everything was not fine. As their grip on consciousness faded, Whumpee made a promise that the next time they were awake, they would show Caretaker that they were stronger, that they were healing. They had to keep going.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw referenced captivity #tw referenced torture #tw referenced hopsital #tw wounds #hurt/comfort #hurt/recovery #hurt/aftermath #tw unconsciousness #caretaker and whumpee #requests #queue