#one direction hurt/comfort

[rainbowbeanstyles]

don't mind me im just posting some great fics i've been rereading non stop that you have to read🫶

Bulletproof by justahappycloud

No Good Deed (Goes Unpunished) by JasTheLarrie

The Green Room by JasTheLarrie

Of Sunshines and Sweethearts by tippitytap

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet In Time (Is That True For Yours And Mine?) by tippitytap

I Want To Tell You That I Love You (but i can't speak) by tippitytap

my gorgeous, my darling by tippitytap

Golden by sheyla

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by InsightfulInsomniac

i would know you from touch alone by staybeautiful

On The Horizon by FitzAndLarry

wanting you, haunting me by honey_beeing

My Hands at Risk, I Fold by yourgorgeouscolors

Wither & Bloom by The_Dixie_Pixie

Caffeine Withdrawals by corrinebailey

if we make it through december, we'll be fine by penceypansy

different lengths, different stories, all too good!

[afewproblems]

For the prompts #39 things you forgot to say and number 23 things you were forced to say steddie hurt/ comfort

Thank you for this combo - I hope I’ve done it justice but my hand slipped and this got long and it got sad…so I apologize in advance!

“Shit!” Steve hisses, wrenching his face away from the open oven door as a cloud of hot moist air rushes out, he wipes his face with the free hand not holding the oven door handle. 

“You good man?” Robin laughs from where she’s perched on the counter, her dangling legs swing joyfully back and forth. 

“Peachy,” Steve mutters, grabbing a hot-cloth to pull out the baking tray, he shakes the mini pigs in a blanket around to dislodge them from the foil before putting the tray back onto the middle rack, “put on another fifteen would ya?” he says over his shoulder to Robin.

She snatches the little blue egg timer from beside her thigh and twists it to the appropriate time before placing it back onto the counter. 

It's not the only snack he's prepared, granted to call it preparation would be a bit of a stretch. He had grabbed chips and pop, beer, and juice -just in case, that afternoon. It wasn't as though he hadn't needed a grocery run, and the most intensive snack was now baking in the oven, it wasn't all out, not really…

“Going all out I see,” she hums with a quirked eyebrow and a growing smile.

Steve smirks, ignoring the heat that blooms across his cheeks and ears that has nothing to do with the open oven door. She knows exactly what he's trying to do and who it's for. 

Eddie had somehow, after everything, burrowed his way into their lives and never left. 

And it was nice, he had a wicked sense of humor and warm brown eyes that made Steve's heart quicken in a way he couldn't quite explain. 

He and Robin had talked it to death in fact, analyzing each small moment, each lingering glance or touch that had occurred between them over the last few months since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital.

Steve had even begun hanging out with Eddie alone, invited along for movie nights in the new Munson trailer. 

***

“Come on,” Steve scoffs as he throws a handful of popcorn into Eddie’s face from his side of the couch, he laughs as Eddie meets the projectiles with an open mouth, “Han Solo Harrison Ford could totally take out Indiana Jones Harrison Ford, no contest!” 

Eddie snorts and shakes his head sagely, “Oh Steven, sweet Steven,” he takes a long drag on the joint between his fingers and blows it out through his nose, “you forget about Rick Deckard! The trenchcoat alone man!”

“Who?” Steve says as his face scrunches into a slight frown, he gestures for Eddie to pass the joint and takes a long pull before coughing roughly as the smoke hits his lungs, it’s been awhile since he’s actually smoked but, ah well, when in Rome.

Eddie grins and launches into an explanation of something called Blade Runner and the pros and cons of the retelling of something about electric sheep? He vaguely remembers the title on the Hawk Theater marquee, but he was also pretty sure that was the year he and Patty Campbell made out while The Thing played in the background, so he must have missed it. Steve feels himself drift away, slightly lost as Eddie continues to speak, he watches the way the metal-head’s hands fly around - emphatically gesturing as he lists his points. He’s so pretty like this, his eyes bright and his dimples on full display--

Oh. Oh shit.

The familiar bubble of warmth blooms inside his chest and travels up, spreading into his hands and dusting his face with a light pink that he hopes is obscured by the dim light in the Munson living room. Shit.

“Family video should have it, we’ll pick it up for next time,” Eddie hums, he reaches for the joint, letting his fingers brush Steve’s own and it feels like sparks dance along his skin. 

Oh, double shit.

Eddie suddenly sits up straight, his legs slide off of the couch and onto the floor, nearly toppling the ashtray on the rug. 

“I mean, not sure when we’ll get around to uh, to doing that though you know?” Eddie says quickly, keeping his face trained on the ashtray below as he drops the roach into it. It bounces once and hits the carpet prompting a low groan as Eddie scoops it up before the ash can stain. 

“With Hellfire I mean, I don’t,” Eddie swallows, he looks at Steve once before dropping his gaze back to the floor, “you know how difficult it can be to schedule the kids and then with trying to find a place to host everyone--”

“I could have you,” Steve says, the words leap from his mouth loudly with little to no thought, “I mean, I could host,” he says quickly, his ears feel as though they’ve been engulfed in flames but he presses on, “Hellfire I mean, you know, if you want?”

Eddie’s head tilts slightly as he finally turns to look at Steve once more, his large brown eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s own before he grins and clears his throat, tucking a handful of curls behind his ear. 

“Alright Big Boy, I’m preparing to be wow’d,” Eddie says as he leans back against the arm of the couch once more and brings his feet back up, stretching towards Steve - just shy of his thigh. 

Steve can’t help but beam at Eddie, even as his heart hammers at a mile a minute, he  leans into the ratty couch cushions as casually as possible, “Nothing but the best for his highness,” Steve murmurs as he points his face back towards Harrison Ford on the television screen. 

He calls Robin as soon as he gets home that night, it’s late, nearly midnight, but she still takes his call - much to the disapproval of her parents. 

Thank God for Robin Buckley.

“When are you going to get your own line Robs,” Steve huffs once Mrs. Buckley finishes scolding him for the late hour, he’s lucky she bothered to even get Robin for him but Steve has managed to ever so slightly charm Mr. and Mrs. Buckley over the last year or two. He’s fairly certain they think he and Robin are dating, but if that’s the case they haven’t said as much.

“Not all of us are rich you dick,” she yawns into the receiver, “now spill it, what's so important that you’re calling this late?”

“I..I think,” he swallows, the silence on the other end of the line makes the words stick in his throat, “I like someone, uh I’m kind of freaked out about it Robin…”

"You like Eddie, you mean?" Robin says, so matter-of-factly that Steve almost drops the phone, he scrambles to keep ahold of it, “Steve?” Robin’s confused voice floats out of the receiver in soft tinney tones as he brings it back up to his ear.

"How did you--”

“You’re not exactly subtle dingus, plus you had a crush on me before so I’ve gotten pretty good at seeing when you’re mooning over someone,” she says with a laugh in her voice, it finally manages to pull a small grin out of him.

Steve groans, pressing the heel of his hand into his left eye until stars flash in his vision, “What the hell am I going to do Buckley? I’ve offered my place to host Hellfire”.

“Why on earth would you do that?” She hisses in exasperation. 

“It just came out!”

She sighs and it crinkles in his ear like static, “Well then,” she hums after a beat, “we’re going to need a game plan”.

***

Steve shakes his head slightly, and winks at her, "You know everything I do is to impress you Buckley," he snarks back, flipping the oven door closed with a snap. Steve grabs a discarded tea towel from the counter to wipe his hands before he stretches the fabric out into a lax bridge between his hands, he spins the towel suddenly and whips it out to catch at Robin's jean clad knees.

She squawks and leaps away from the counter with a wide grin, "asshole," Robin says affectionately, snatching the makeshift weapon away from him.

She wanders over to the fridge, popping open the door and leaning down to inspect the shelves. Robin huffs out a breath, "I don't think I've ever seen this many drink options outside of a literal vending machine," she turns slightly to look over her shoulder, "not impressing anyone my ass". 

Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring the flutter of nerves in his chest, it wasn’t the first time he had hosted the kids for a game night but this was the first time for the rest of the Hellfire group and the first time Steve would be meeting Eddie's friends and bandmates.

It shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it is. 

"Is it too much?" he asks lowly, crossing his arms over his chest, it had been Robin’s idea after all to cater to their stomachs, as the old saying went.

Robin stands up with a can of coke in hand, she cracks the tab and sips it, her eyes never leaving his face, she stares contemplative for what feels like an eternity before eventually rolling her eyes. 

"Nah, as much as it pains me to say, I think it’s pretty perfect,” she tips the can towards him as if in a toast, “plus, if he still hasn’t caught it yet I'm sure you'll have to really spell it out.” 

Robin gestures towards the fridge with a wry smile, "perhaps using the bountiful drink selection you have for us".

Steve snorts and feels his chest slowly begin to unclench, "don't tempt me Bobs" he mutters under his breath.

A shout and chorus of groans and, 'what the fuck man's’ ring out from the living room where the group have set up, Steve snorts at the mutinous tone in Mike's voice which carries farther than any of the others.

"Better get a move on with the snacks, the mob is getting restless," Robin says sagely before grabbing a handful of chips from a nearby bowl.

Steve swears if he rolls his eyes harder they'd fall out, but he grabs two bowls and makes his way over to the swinging door connecting the kitchen to the dining room.

The sounds of arguing increases, as Steve steps over the threshold, he smiles fondly at the sight of the kids. Will has his face in his hands, he's seated cross legged in one of the dining room chairs, Lucas is seated next to him with an arm on his shoulder, his eyes volley back and forth watching Dustin and Mike snarking at each other. 

Mike is standing, leaning over the table and gesturing emphatically at the plastic mat draped over the wood surface of the Harrington dining room table. 

It had belonged to his maternal grandmother and had been collecting dust since Steve had been old enough to reach the stove, old enough to be left on his own while his parents traveled for work.

At least now it was finally being put to good use, maybe not as Nana Marino intended, but Steve didn't think she would have minded. 

Dustin stands as well and picks up a small model, thrusting it into Mike's face, "look me in the eyes and tell me you think that's a good plan," he snarls as Mike swats at Dustin's hand, the plastic goes flying as Mike's hand connects. 

"Hey, hey," Steve shouts as Dustin pushes Mike away by the shoulders, "break it up, Jesus Christ you two". 

He sets the snack bowls on the table, ignoring the huff from Lucas who immediately moves them off the mat. 

Steve rolls his eyes as he bends down to grab the discarded figurine, it's a tiny…dwarf? At least that's what Steve thinks, he's sure that Dustin has told him his character's name and that the word dwarf has been used a few times that night, but he's unsure -and the spotty paint job does nothing to make it clearer as he holds up the model to his eye line. 

"Whatever Steve, you don't get it, Dustin is being an asshole-"

"Me?! You're the one-" 

Steve blows out a sharp whistle before bringing his hands up to form a T shape, "Time out, Jesus, where is your mediator, your Dungeon Man?"

"You know that's not what he's called," Mike grumbles under his breath while Dustin scowls and points to the sliding glass door to the backyard. 

Steve nods and pockets the figurine, ignoring the loud, 'Hey!' that Dustin bites out as he wanders towards the door.

"Relax, you'll get him back when you can guarantee no one's going to have him jammed down their throat," Steve calls over his shoulder with a smirk.

Steve slides open the glass door and steps out into the cool evening air. The sun has set but the last hints of pink and periwinkle paint the horizon, bathing the yard in blue twilight. Steve hears voices from around the corner of the house and the unmistakable smell of cigarettes floats his way as he steps closer. He's about to clear his throat, announce himself, when he hears his own name. 

"So what's up with Harrington?" The first voice says, Gareth, Steve thinks to himself, he blinks at the tone, it's curious if a little…teasing?

"What about him?" Eddie says, a lighter clicks in the background before a short pause. The smell of tobacco blooms once more, stronger now than before. Steve settles against the wall of the house, it's not right to eavesdrop -he knows that, but he can't help but wait, his feet rooted alongside his mothers rhododendrons.

"I mean come on, how is it that King Steve is hosting us in this fucking 'McMansion'," another voice says sharply, Jeff, Steve thinks, ignoring the small wave of hurt at the old title. 

"It's just…,” there’s a pause, “kinda weird man," Gareth says quietly. Gravel crunches and for a heart stopping moment Steve thinks he'll be caught, "I didn't think you were friends?" 

Steve presses himself into the wall, willing himself to move, to run back to the house as quickly and quietly as he can, but he can’t seem to move, he holds his breath as Eddie speaks.

Eddie snorts, "You think I'm friends with a guy like that?" 

The words hit Steve harder than he thought they would, cutting into his chest, settling in alongside, Bullshit, and, Asshole. They curl together and sink into his skin like a bruise.  

"It's okay if you are Eddie," Gareth tries again, a soft grunt joins the words, and Jeff mutters something in begrudging agreement.

Eddie laughs. 

He fucking laughs.

"You guys are hysterical, he's friends with the sheepies, and yeah he offered this house, why wouldn't we want to take advantage of it?"

Right.

Steve nods to himself, letting the last threads of hope tear apart, he slips away from the wall as quietly as possible and makes his way back to the sliding glass door, grateful he left it open, silently making his escape.

He closes it as quietly as possible and considers latching the door for a brief moment before scrubbing his hand roughly over his face. 

That was the old Steve talking, the one who would have locked the doors and kicked everyone out over something as trivial as someone not wanting to be his friend. The one who rejected others before they could reject him first, who wrapped himself in barbs and venom and sneered at people who were unapologetically different. Like Eddie.

But Eddie wasn't just someone, and Steve hadn’t been King of anything for a long time.

And, unless Eddie had forgotten, Steve was fairly certain they were friends, or at least it shouldn’t have been a completely unfounded thought that he and Eddie were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

Steve shakes his head and swallows the newly formed lump in his throat. 

He always did this, his heart ran ahead of his head and got itself hurt, again. At least this time he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.

Steve sighs and tamps down the wave of hurt that sweeps through his chest, he shoves it into a corner, into a little box on its own, and shuts the lid. 

It was fine, he was fine. 

The kids have settled down at this point as Steve walks back towards the dining room table. Mike is laughing at something, Will's face has been removed from his hands and Dustin and Lucas are indulging in handfuls of chips from the bowls Steve had brought out earlier. One is nearly empty and at least Will has the good graces to look sheepish as he spots Steve walking in. 

"Sorry Steve," Will says with a soft smile, as he grabs the bowl to hand over, "We might have gotten a little carried away". 

Steve smiles but it's tight at the edges as he reaches out to take the bowl, he can feel Will's eyes on him as he moves to the other side of the table towards the kitchen door, "don't worry about it little Byers," Steve mumbles mostly to himself. He misses the worried glances that Will and Dustin exchange with one another as he walks back into the kitchen. 

Robin has left her perch on the counter to stand beside the oven, magazine in hand, she doesn't look up as he walks in and places the bowl on the counter. 

Robin looks over at the egg timer with narrowed eyes, "five more minutes, wanna have a look at em?" she hums as she puts the magazine on the counter, a picture of the Charlie's Angels graces the cover.

He shakes his head and grabs another bag of chips for the kids to put out, Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose --Robin knows him too well at this point to miss such a gesture. 

He clears his throat, "I'm sure they're good Robbie, let me just bring more fuel for the goblins out there". 

Steve meets her gaze for just a moment, her eyes narrow at him now and trace over his face. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off her stare and turns on his heel as Robin opens her mouth to say something, he beats her to the punch, "You stare any harder, you're going to turn into the Terminator scanning me like that Robbie”. 

It works for a moment, throwing her off kilter just enough for him to escape to the dining room as a laugh tumbles out of her open mouth.

The older boys have rejoined the group as Steve makes his way to the table with the refill, Dustin makes grabby-hands at the bowl which Steve hands over with a roll of his eyes. 

Jeff is seated next to Dustin, his eyes trail after Steve but his expression seems neutral enough for the moment. Gareth sits in between Will and Lucas, his gaze resting pensively on the figurine in his hands, he looks up when Steve enters and a small friendly smile slowly blooms, it settles Steve - just enough to allow a small smile back. 

Eddie stands on the far side of the table, where a binder has been propped up to block his notebooks and dice, his arms are crossed tightly across his chest and his shoulders form a stiff line. He’s frowning slightly at his books, if he sees Steve walk in he doesn’t acknowledge it.

 Steve's chest tightens at the sight, he gathers up the second wave of hurt and sweeps it away once again, latching the lid of the box this time.

How the hell did he read this so wrong? Where was the Eddie that shared in private jokes, leaning over to share an aside to Steve that was just for them, the one who called him Stevie and slung a warm arm around his shoulders as they watched bad movies late into the night.

Had he done something, Steve wonders? Something to piss Eddie off tonight? 

He wracks his brain, sifting through the events of the evening but nothing comes to mind. They had barely said two words to each other before Eddie had disappeared while Steve and Robin were cooking in the kitchen.

So where was this coming from?

Lucas leans over the mat on the table to snag another handful of chips,littering crumbs over the crudely drawn map and character models, Eddie tisks loudly and leans over to blow away the crumbs.

"You always get the best snacks man," Lucas says brightly through his mouthful to Steve, “and maybe even, make the best ones?” 

Dustin, Will, and Mike all turn expectantly to Steve, Dustin and Will with open hopeful expressions and even Mike has removed his perpetual scowl to look at Steve with something closer to begrudging anticipation.

“Yeah, it should be done right away here, gotta keep you assholes well fed before you go out and terrorize Waterdeep right?” Steve 

"Since when does King Steve know D&D?" Jeff asks with a laugh, his eyebrows crease together incredulously and he and Eddie share a look. 

“Jeff,” Gareth mutters at the same time that Dustin says, “I’ve been trying to convince Steve to play with us for ages but--”

“Pfft, Harrington? Play Dungeons and Dragons? I’d know if Hell had frozen over Dustin,” Eddie scoffs as he sits down roughly in his seat behind the binder, from where Steve is standing it obscures Eddie's face before he leans back in the dining chair. 

Right. 

Steve nods once and clears his throat before turning away from the kids, he avoids Dustin’s gaze which burns into the side of his face, “I think the timer is about to go, I’ll uh, be back in a sec”.

He walks swiftly in three strides towards the door, letting his foot catch it as it swings open with a thunk. 

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve barely hear’s Mike’s muffled words through the closed door as he walks towards the counter and snatches the hot-cloth from where it lay next to the timer. They offer little comfort as he wrenches open the oven door.

“Steve?” Robin says softly, she’s using her wounded-bunny voice that he absolutely hates. He ignores it and the way it makes his chest clench again, the box is getting too full for this. 

“Steve,” Robin says again, she reaches out to touch his shoulder but he keeps moving and grabs the pan from the oven. A few of the pigs in a blanket are burnt, the dark brown, almost black, singing on the edges mars just of a few of them. 

It’s the last straw of the night. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, slamming the tray onto the stovetop with so much force that one of the pigs goes flying, he winces as it hits the floor. 

Steve bends in half to grab it, ignoring the sting as the hot pastry and meat connects with his fingers. He tosses it into the sink with a muffled metallic thud. 

“Jesus Steve,” Robin hisses at him, her eyes dart back and forth between his face and the closed kitchen door, “what the fuck happened in there?”

“Nothing Robin, just drop it,” Steve growls as he wrenches the cupboard open and takes out a large plate. He can’t do this now, not while everyone is still here.

“Steve?” a small voice says from the door, Dustin slowly walks into kitchen, approaching the pair of them like wild animals, “I wanted to--”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve says, deflating as he remembers. 

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose before pulling out the small dwarf model from his pocket, Steve tosses it over to Dustin who just manages to catch it. 

“Sorry man,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head as he schools his expression into something flatter, more neutral, “completely forgot about him, if you want to wait a second I’ll get these on a plate you can bring them over to everyone--”

“No, Steve--”

“I think we have mustard in the fridge and maybe a little relish left, I’m not sure what all goes with these guys,” Steve mutters, crossing to the fridge, he opens the door and sticks his head in.

“Steve--”

“Or what everyone else likes, um, you know what, just take all of these,” he sighs, gathering up the bottles and jars in his arms, he brings them over to the counter beside the plate and brings his foot back to kick the fridge door closed once more. 

Steve turns off the oven and haphazardly tosses the remaining pigs onto the plate before turning around to Dustin and Robin. Dustin’s face is pinched and red, his mouth cast into a deep troubled frown, while Robin scowls with narrowed eyes but the smallest hint of worry seeps through. 

“Anyway,” Steve mumbles, avoiding their gaze, “don’t destroy the house, just let me know when you go, and I’ll lock up”.

Steve sighs again and sweeps his hair away from his face, “I think I’m just going to go lay down for a bit, migraine,” he says, lifting his hand to gesture towards his forehead. 

It’s not even a lie, a steady ache has been building behind his eyes since he overheard the elder Hellfire members talking in the yard. He tosses the cloth in his hands on the counter and turns to the main hallway to head upstairs. 

“Have fun,” Steve says softly before sweeping away down the hallway. 

Steve makes it about halfway up the stairs before he hears light foot-falls on the carpet behind him, he glances over his shoulder to see Robin following silently. 

She’s still looking at him with an irritated scowl but her worried blue eyes undercut the ferocity he’s sure she is going for, Steve sighs and continues climbing, knowing she wouldn’t listen to him even if he told her to go. 

Steve opens his bedroom door and flips on the light for them, wincing at the sudden brightness, he closes his eyes and walks until his knees hit the bed and lets himself fall gracelessly onto the mattress. He hears Robin wander over to the desk lamp, turning it on with a small snick, she crosses the room again and flicks off the ceiling light before closing the door and joining him on the bed. 

“So,” she hums, prodding him roughly between the ribs with a rigid pointer finger, Steve jolts and makes a muffled squawk into the covers, “are you going to actually tell me what’s wrong or are you going to take it out on more pork products?”

Steve rolls over slowly onto his back before bringing his lower lip up to chew on. Robin’s eyes grow softer the longer he takes to speak, he has to tell her. 

“I was wrong Robin, we were wrong, he practically hates me,” Steve whispers to the ceiling, he feels her shift on the bed beside him, inching even closer. 

“Eddie??” Robin whispers as she reaches out to place her hand firmly on Steve’s chest and rubs a soothing circle over his heart, “you-- no, that’s not true”.

“I overheard him,” Steve says eventually, he clears his throat and reaches up to wipe his eyes which have begun to sting, damn migraine, “outside when I went to grab them, they were talking about me”.

Her hand freezes and her fingers clench into his sweater, Steve reaches up to gently pry her hand away, he offers a firm squeeze of her smaller palm. 

“What did he say Steve,” she whispers, her eyes dart over his face, as though cataloging each small change in his expression. 

Steve chews his lip again, this time, keeping a careful lock on the words before they tumble out, “just leave it alone Robbie,” he says softly, “I just want to forget this ever happened”.

Steve turns over onto his side, pillowing his head under his arm. He scootches over to make more room for her.

Robin hesitates for just a moment, turning towards the door with fire in her eyes, before Steve tugs on her hand, stealing her closer, down beside him.  

Robin sighs as she curls up, she reaches over with her one free hand and pokes his chest again, hitting him square in the sternum, “he didn’t deserve you anyway, he’s your Tammy Thompson,” Robin says shrewdly, nodding once to herself, “and my villain origin story,” she mutters after a beat, under her breath. 

Steve closes his eyes and nods silently, the words are meant to be comforting, he knows, but what little balm they contain do not help with the ache deep in his chest.

Steve opens his eyes as Robin kicks at his foot, probably harder than she means to, she at least has the good graces to look sorry. 

“I mean it dingus,” she murmurs, “I wouldn’t lie to you, and us single losers have to stick together after all”.

Steve laughs brightly and pulls her closer, letting himself bask in her warmth.

She wasn’t wrong, at least they had each other, and maybe, for now, that was enough.

You can read Part Two Here

[motleyfam]

PLEASE COULD WE MAYBE GET LIKE A VIBE OF WHAT THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF SETTLE OUR BONES IS GOING TO BE ABOUT NO PRESSURE JUST CURIOUS

The vibe is it’s kicking my ass 😂

[the-acid-pear]

Honestly something I'd love to see in a fanfic is exploring the what if Dave had actually found Henry's tapes. I saw only one fic tap on the possibility and it was just a one-shot mostly focused on Dave being comforted (for the record: it was good, I liked it) but I'd love to read or hell even see a more in depth exploration of the concept.

I want to see purps world be torn apart brick by brick in real time I want to see him go thru the stages of grief I want to see the anger the denial the bargain until he reaches the acceptance and is faced with the fact that he lost his main driving force, since this whole Freddy's thing he was doing for Henry, so what now?

I'd love to see him find a new reason to keep going and I'd love to see him getting the opportunity to heal 👍👍👍

[she-bear369]

Awake Dear Heart, Awake

Cute, sexy and at times emotional beach fic. Harry and Louis get stranded on a remote beach and get off to a bad start.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47711809

[whenyoucallmelover]

You Taught Me A Lesson (That Feelings Are Reckless)

by callmelover.

pairing: harry styles/louis tomlinson

chapters: 2/2. 5k.

tags: hurt/comfort, awkward roommates, protective louis (though he won't admit it)

After swallowing the Excedrin, Harry stays silent. The last place he wants to be right now is in the same room as Louis. The aura between the two of them had been uncomfortable from the get-go, but Harry has never wanted to escape it more than he does at this moment. Unfortunately, his shaky legs have made it clear that that won't be happening any time soon.

Dammit.

They were so close to having a normal interaction.

✷

Or the one where Harry and Louis live together but like to ignore each other... Until one day, they don't.

⭒ posted october 17, 2022.

[mstrchu]

can someone else please please look at this set of images before i go insane

[rapidhighway]

i love hurt/comfort but i fucking hate hurt/comfort so bad stop doing the hurt comfort template i beg of you i am begging please pause for ten seconds and think if he would actually say that and do that i promise you can write satisfying hurt/comfort and have everyone be in character and not "character A" and "character B" template screenshot you found on pinterest

[altschmerzes]

ted lasso fandom stop posting things labeled as gen fic with both & and / tags listed for the same relationship leaving me wondering if i want to open the box of schrodinger’s gen fic and get shipping jumpscared today or not challenge

[better-page-sage]

For selfshippers with multiple f/os

Imagine them gathering around you and singing a love song by a boy band or a girl group.

PROSHIP DNI >:(

[ineffable-kelpie]

Welcome Home

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1,211

Prompt: Wing hug

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

(This is hurt/no comfort, you've been warned)

-

Crowley was surrounded by white. Cold, sterile white, like a hospital, but even more unnaturally clean. The light came from everywhere, so bright that Crowley had to squint, illuminating every shadow. Not that there was much around to cast a shadow. The emptiness seemed to stretch on forever. There was only Crowley, and—and Aziraphale.

He didn’t look like Crowley remembered. There were new lines in his face, new bags under his eyes. His worn, beige waistcoat and tartan bowtie were gone, replaced with cleaner, crisper, whiter versions. When he smiled at Crowley, it seemed a bit forced. “Hello, Crowley. Welcome home.”

Heaven, Crowley realized with a start. That was where he was. That was why everything was so damnably bright, and why—why Aziraphale was here. But… “Why am I here?”

“I brought you here,” Aziraphale said gently. He reached out to touch Crowley’s arm. “It’s not so bad here, is it? Not when…not when we’re together.”

It was much too bright. Crowley realized with a start that his sunglasses were missing. He tried to pull up a miracle from Below, but it wouldn’t work. Something felt wrong. “What’s—I don’t understand,” said Crowley. “Why am I here?”

“Because I brought you here.”

Crowley had been to Heaven before, twice recently. It hadn’t felt like this. Something was wrong. Something had changed. Heaven always felt wrong, but this was different, this was—this was inside himself.

He was an angel again.

It was like coming home to find that someone else had repainted the walls and thrown out half the furniture. It was like waking up to find that someone had cut his body open and replaced several of his organs. It was wrong, Crowley felt violated, he wanted to tear out the Grace that had somehow been restored to him and burn it. Except he knew all too well that he couldn’t do that without burning himself. He could feel how wrong it was inside himself, a gift he’d never asked for that demanded gratitude anyway.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, a crease of confusion appearing between his eyebrows.

Crowley was going to be sick. He stepped away from Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around himself. “What,” he tried to say. His voice shook. “What did you do to me, Aziraphale?”

“Oh, really, now.” Aziraphale sounded annoyed. Annoyed. He didn’t understand—How could he?—He didn’t even notice anymore, didn’t think about the implicit message woven and locked into his soul—You have been judged and found Good, you have been granted God’s favor, but remember that you serve at God’s pleasure—What the Lord hath given, the Lord can just as easily taketh away—

Crowley was shaking. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his heart raced to keep up. This couldn’t be happening. This was impossible. Falling was a one-way operation, it was supposed to be the cruelest and most painful punishment God had ever come up with. There was never supposed to be any chance of—of Falling again—

Aziraphale was still looking at Crowley, confused and slightly annoyed. Tears sprang in Crowley’s eyes. He didn’t think Aziraphale was this oblivious, or this cruel. “Aziraphale, what the—Why would you—What did you do?”

“I appointed you as an angel,” Aziraphale said blankly. “And now…well…now we can be together, if you’d stop being so dramatic.”

Dramatic. Crowley was being dramatic about having part of his soul overwritten against his will. About being forced back to the place he was supposed to have been irrevocably cast out of, to do the bidding of a God whose displeasure he knew far too well, under threat of having his whole being torn apart and remade if he asked too many questions—

He tried to say something, but he couldn’t breathe no matter how much he gasped for air. His head spun, and he stumbled for balance. There was nothing around for him to hold onto. Nothing except Aziraphale, and Crowley wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

Except Aziraphale grabbed him, took him by the shoulders and held him upright when his knees buckled. “Crowley?” he said, concern creeping into his voice. Oh, finally, he was catching on. “You’re…you’re perfectly safe, you know. You’re an angel now. I understand that it might be alarming to find yourself in Heaven, but you’re supposed to be here.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Crowley gasped, finding his voice and pushing Aziraphale away. He lost his balance in the process and fell, sprawling across the floor. Aziraphale stepped forward to help him up. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, baring flat, harmless teeth and scrambling away. He was an animal Aziraphale wanted to tame, now defanged, declawed, and caged in this empty white void. Was this what Aziraphale had wanted? Crowley, cornered and defenseless and terrified? “I didn’t want this, I never asked you to—I don’t want to be—”

Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with panic. “Is this…really that bad, for you?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Oh, no, I didn’t—I didn’t know, I just wanted to show you—” His voice cracked. He backed away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry—”

The blinding light of Heaven disappeared. It was dark. Crowley jolted upright, confused, disoriented. Where was…? He reached out around him, and his hands fisted into silk sheets. His bed. He was in his bed. He’d been having a nightmare.

His breath was still shallow. One hand went to his heart. If he could still feel the faint imprint of holiness on his soul, that must be his imagination. It was just a nightmare. Aziraphale hadn’t really—He wouldn’t. Right?

Crowley snapped his fingers to turn on the lamp and brought his wings into the physical plane. Still black. He had known they would be, but the relief that washed over him was powerful enough to bring tears to his eyes. He wrapped his wings around himself, burying shaking fingers in his own feathers. He was still a demon, still Fallen. He was not beholden to God, or anyone. He closed his eyes as his breathing slowly settled, his wings still wrapped tightly around himself.

Gradually, Crowley’s pulse and breathing returned to normal. He relaxed his wings, loosened his grip, and started running his fingers through them instead, making sure they were all aligned and clean. With every pass of his fingers through glossy black, he reminded himself that he was still a demon. That it was just a nightmare, and Aziraphale would never change Crowley against his will.

Angels could send dreams in messages.

The thought made Crowley’s hand still. His pulse quickened again. No—no, Aziraphale wouldn’t.

He’d said he wanted to show Crowley something, right before the dream ended. If he’d thought he could change Crowley’s mind by showing him what they might have been…

He wouldn’t. Crowley pushed that train of thought away, locked it up, and continued preening his wings. He’d already refused to go back to Heaven, and that was the end of it. Aziraphale knew better than to try to raise the issue again. He knew Crowley better than that.

Crowley didn’t really know if he believed that. But he knew that he needed to, or he would fall apart.

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Can you write some core of angst with happy ending

Apologies if this one if shorter than usual! Had to write this quick so my bad if it’s crap 🫣

Jealousy

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

“So when were you going to tell me?” Your voice was cold and furious, Harry’s confused eyes settling onto you as he placed his bag down onto the table “what do you mean y/n?” He asked softly your eyes not daring to meet his “why you would cheat on me.” The man was astonished at your accusation… your words absolutely rendering him silent

“What?” He asked utterly confused “you’re always with HER. You’re always holding hands with her! You’re always fucking with her! It isn’t fair Harry!” You spat out the alarm on Harry’s face obvious “sweethe-“ “don’t fucking sweetheart me you two faced asshole!” Harry fell silent jaw dropping as he just stared at you green eyes filled with genuine hurt and confused “y/n…” “Harry you and her have obviously gotten feelings for each other! It’s clear! It’s fine it’s fine! Spare me of the grief of hearing you break up with me!” You raised your voice “break up with me?! Y/n what the fuck is-“ he had to quickly remind himself that you were just struggling, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose before his dark green eyes focused on you watching as you turned your back to him going to walk to the bathroom only to be stopped by Harry’s slender fingers wrapping around your wrist cold metal of his rings pressing against your wrist as he swiftly yanked you back towards him but making sure to remain gentle his eyes boring into yours as he gripped onto your wrist gently

“It’s for the movie.” He spoke getting a sarcastic “uh huh” from you only for him to cup your cheek forcing you to look at him “it’s for the movie. I swear. Olivia wanted me to do it. To get our chemistry up because I didn’t like it…” your face immediately fell lips parting in confusion “didn’t like it?” You asked sheepishly “yeah. I hated it… it made me uncomfortable.” He spoke before grabbing your hands gently bringing them to his lips as he pressed soft kisses to your hands “I didn’t like it because it wasn’t you. I felt guilty as shit because I had to act like she was you…. The only way I could do what I did on that set today was imagine you were her.” He spoke calmly and reassuringly immediately defusing the situation that could’ve easily been so much worse. You blinked staring at him in shock immediately feeling guilty “I’m sorry… I-…” he shushed you gently hand coming to cup your cheek as he stroked his thumb against your skin “I understand. It’s okay… but please don’t ever think I would stoop as low as your exes… I’d never cheat on you or fall in love with someone else. Okay? You’re what I want… who I want… I love you.” He then wrapped his arms around you, holding you in his embrace as you breathed in the smell of him not saying anything for a while as you both just stood in silence, Harry doing what he usually did- waiting for you to break the hug first, just so he knew you had enough of the hug… enough of his love… a hug was capable of saving a life after all.

Eventually you however let out a soft laugh, arms still around him “I’m so stupid….” You murmured and Harry chuckled shaking his head “I won’t disagree on that one…” he teased playfully “but at least you’re cute…. Stupid but cute…” he murmured pulling back to look into your eyes a small grin on his lips his dimples popping out before he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips “I love you.” He murmured against your lips, “love you more.” You spoke back, lips remaining against each other, before eventually you fell back into his embrace… you didn’t like to admit it but you were insecure at the best and worst of times but with the help of Harry you were able to shut that down within an instant. He truly was the love of your life… your hero… your whole entire world.

[nexus-nebulae]

As a system based around trauma ourselves, we will always always make our blog a safe place for plurals of all forms, be it endo, willo, spiritual, proto, or anything and everything and each combination. When we were young and scared and didn't know who we were, it was not the system medicalists that took us in- it was not DID-centric communities that took us in- it was tulpamancy communities. It was those people who taught us that this did not have to be wholly scary, that we could feel comfortable in ourselves. It was those people who guided us through the experience of finding out we were never willogenic to begin with. It was those people who gave us real resources on how to move on from trauma, instead of insisting that if we were showing real evidence of healing and growth or even felt happy ever we were never really plural or traumatized to begin with.

Our whole life we have been surrounded by people who refused to believe our identities and experiences at every turn imaginable. We spent 20 years with undiagnosed physical illnesses because everyone told us we were lying about our pain. We spent 10 years being called a "theyfab" and a "straight infiltrator" because we weren't a masciline enough trans man who was open about being aromantic and asexual. We spent 8 years moving from psychiatrist to psychiatrist because each new one straight up did not believe certain disorders existed, let alone that we could have them. We spent 5 years fighting for a place to fit in, because when we were amnesiac enough to not even remember we were plural, we were called fakers.

We have never been granted the right to self-determination. We have never been believed about any of our experiences. We have never been accepted for who we actually are, not until we took matters into our own hands and forged our own safe spaces out of blood and sinew. It was draining. It was exhausting. It was traumatizing. And we will never, ever, ever dare to do that to another person on this planet. Never again. You do not deserve the pain we went through. You do not deserve to feel hated for who you are. You deserve to feel safe.

Plurals of all forms are always welcome here.

[celestial-toys]

crawls out of my writing cave on all fours, disheveled and holding a twenty-four-thousand-word-long document between my teeth

[uwooyoungs]

literally cant express the weird mixture of joy and grief im feeling as i watch old 1d videos and mvs...

[arikihalloween]

do u have a set time for when u interview all the peacekeeper vas

u know like what happened with the admin vas interviewing on a discord call with ur friends

Oh it wasn't an interview ! It was us reviewing the auditions, and then choosing who will be called back !

Actually we already reviewed, so rn I'm in it the "rewrite for the recall" step

I have more directions to give to some but it will take a lil time to write my lil speech (school struggle)

I think I will contact people this weekend

Basically I will ask to redo some lines or stuff like that with more directions after the others helped me pinpoint what I want exactly

And after that I'll finally choose

I appreciated every participation, everyone in there has potential ! But well, Keeper can only have one voice so-

Thank you all anyhow