#to see if there was a way to make it down unharmed

[squishyhotaru]

MY ELLIS

Ellis Twilight/Reader Fluff TW: Reader is drunk! Pronouns: You Words: 1724 Ao3 Mirror

⤷ for anon

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS

Ellis was very aware that you should have been home by now.

In fact, you should have been home long before he’d returned with Jude an hour ago after taking care of some extra business. He knew you were with Liam, Harry, and William on a mission, but from what he’d heard that morning before he’d gone to Raven to work for the day, the mission shouldn’t have taken long. 

It took all of his energy not to rush out and find where they’d gone. You would be safe with them, he told himself, and yet his nails dug into the palm of his hands as he clenched his fists tightly, trying desperately not to rush out of your shared room. Those three were reliable, William almost never failed, too – you would be safe.

No matter how many times he repeated the sentence to himself it didn’t calm his racing heart.

He tried to weigh the logic; if something was wrong one of them would have come back ahead of the others to warn Roger, but there was no sign of any of that. In fact, the castle was calmer that night than he’d seen it in a long time.

Sighing, Ellis sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. Your side. His hand brushed over the covers, trying to feel any lingering trace of warmth but when all he felt was cool fabric he found his shoulders drooping with disappointment. You’d be home soon. You’d be safe. You had to be. Afterall, how could he make you impossibly happy if you went and vanished or died on him?

Without realising, Ellis reached to the side to grab your pillow, bringing it against his chest in a tight hug and buried his face into the end of it. He inhaled deeply, your scent filling his senses and instantly calming him down, easing each tense muscle in his body. 

He missed you.

If Jude saw him right now he’d probably scold him for being pathetic and then grumble to himself about the ridiculousness of it, and yet Ellis knew he’d also be worrying about your safety and probably, far more discreetly than Ellis would, try to find anything he could about the situation.

Maybe he should just go and ask Victor.

Ellis shook his head.

If Victor knew something, he’d tell him… right?

“I need to-” Ellis murmured to himself, rising to his feet still clutching your pillow. Determined to find you, he took a few steps towards the bedroom door and, as he reached towards the handle, the distinct sound of your laughter filled his ears.

Instantly he felt relief flood through him.

Discarding the pillow onto the end of the bed, Ellis rushed out of the door and down to the foyer, his pace slowing as he found you being supported by a very put out looking Harry. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked as he approached.

“She’s unharmed,” William said smoothly, watching behind with an amused smile as Liam clung to him, his cheeks as rosy as your own. William let out a small chuckle as Liam whined and nuzzled him until he lifted his hand to pet his head. “Just had a few too many to drink.”

“Could you help, please?” Harry sighed, trying to shove you off him.

Ellis moved before Harry could even finish talking, unable to stand the sight of you clinging to him the way you were – but as your gaze turned to his, he froze, watching the huge smile take over your face. Your arms instantly dislodge from Harry, instead reaching out to Ellis as you take a few stumbled steps towards him. “Ellis!”

Ellis hurried forward to catch you before you could fall over, crushing you against his strong arms. You smelled like alcohol, and up close he could see how hazy your eyes seemed to be. “You went drinking after the mission….”

Harry shrugged absently, letting out a sigh as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Wasn’t a pleasant mission, it was only supposed to be one….”

“And then Liam got carried away,” William laughed. “And the little robin decided to join him, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Sighing, Ellis hugged you tighter to him, placing a firm kiss on the top of your head. You were unharmed, drunk, but unharmed. 

“Ellis…” You say, letting out a small giggle as you hug your arms tighter around him. You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. “There are two of you.”

“You drank so much,” he murmured. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

“Both of you?”

Ellis found himself thinking, a strange jealousy rising up in him at the thought. “Which Ellis do you want?”

“Which…? I can’t have both?” You asked with a slight pout. Ellis simply shook his head in response. “Mm… then I pick this one!” You announced, reaching your hand up to poke his cheek. “This Ellis! My Ellis!”

Well, you were certainly an open and affectionate drunk, he thought, watching as you cuddled up against him more. Not that he was complaining about it, if anything he was enjoying this a bit too much. 

It took him zero effort to help you up to your shared room, but getting you to sit still? Ellis found himself following you round the room as you picked up random objects that had been there for a while, but you seemed to find them interesting as though you’d never seen them before.

“Will you let me help you change into your sleeping clothes?” He asked softly. “It’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Do we have matching pajamas?” You ask, turning around too quickly, swaying from the momentum and reaching out to steady yourself against him.

“No…” Ellis trailed off, a strained look on his face as your expression slowly fell. “Would that make you happy?”

As you nod, your bottom lip stuck out into a pout, Ellis quickly racked his brain for any solution to the problem. He wouldn’t fit into any of your clothes, but–. Departing from your side for a mere moment, he quickly returned with another of his own shirts and held it up to you. “We can wear these, if that’s okay, and then tomorrow we can go buy matching ones.”

You nod, eyes lighting up before you hold your arms out. “Help!”

“Haha,” Ellis laughed, gently placing his shirt to the side before reaching his hands out to help you undress. There was something so innocent in how you entrusted yourself to him like this, nuzzling against him any time he would touch you as he helped you change, before instantly cuddling yourself against him. “You seem happy.”

“I am happy, I get to cuddle my Ellis.”

His arms wrapped around you tightly as he led you over to the bed. He liked the sound of that; your Ellis. He felt almost upset at himself for how much he liked this side of you. It wasn’t that you weren’t affectionate with him at other times, but you seemed so free or any shyness that held you back that as soon as something crossed your mind, you’d act it out without a second thought.

As evidenced when you reached up to kiss his cheek, let out a soft giggle, and then kissed the corner of his lip.

He wondered if that lack of inhibition would extend to other areas and paused. 

“How much do you love me…?” he asked quietly, not sure if you would hear it at all.

“So much,” you sighed softly, practically melting against him. “I don’t ever want to die because then I would lose days with you.”

“Oh,” Ellis murmured, his eyes widening slightly, before they crinkled into a smile as he let out a small laugh. “What would make you very happy right now?”

“A kiss.”

Ellis said nothing before he pressed his lips against yours, taking advantage of your mouth being open at the end of your words to slide his tongue into your mouth. To his surprise, he found you tasted nothing like the alcohol he thought you would – you tasted as sweet as usual, as addictive–

“Another one,” you half pout as he pulled back. “More. Ellis, please.”

Unable to resist the way you begged him, gripping his shirt to tug  him down, Ellis quickly kissed you again. This time making sure not to pull away until he felt your legs give out from your lack of breath. Then, when he was satisfied that all  your weight was being supported by him, he let himself fall back onto the bed, hugging you against him, draping a leg over you to keep you close to him.

“You… didn’t hug anyone else tonight, did you?”

“Absolutely not!” You half shout, absolutely outraged. “They were not my Ellis. Did you know my Ellis gives the best of hugs?”

“Oh?” he asked, stroking your hair as he slowly watches your eyes flutter shut, murmuring your explanation in a flurry of slurred speech before trailing off into soft snores. 

Ellis wondered if it was right for him to be so happy about this; about how you’d been unable to do anything but rely on him, and he wondered if he should wake you up and continue to ask you questions. He could ask you everything you wanted, everything you were always so reluctant to ask from him when you were sober.

Instead, Ellis held himself back, holding you against him as he watched you sleep. You’d probably have a terrible hangover tomorrow, and he found himself smiling as he thought of how he’d get to look after you. He could get you a small breakfast and something from Roger to help with the headache, run you a bath and wash your hair and back, take you to get some fresh air and some hot tea or coffee. 

As he clutched you firmer against his chest, Ellis found himself happier than he’d been in a while – he wondered, briefly, whether that was okay or not, but as you sighed his name in your sleep he felt his thoughts wash away from anything but how cute you were. Cuddled against him, wearing his shirt, a gentle smile on your face and his name on your lips as you slept.

[hzdtrees]

Waterways

[monkesupreme]

Maybe i SHOULD draft out my ‘Clark is a SuperPlant’ propaganda post

[happyk44]

since the first pjo series is meant to be percy detailing his accounts to a scribe who is writing them down for him, it would be funny if it turns out he never actually saw Annabeth solely in the river styx, but rather the whole group of people who have given a reason to continue fighting for his life - his mom, Grover, Annabeth and Nico - and either the scribe omitted it for ✨ romance ✨ or he just lied because he thought it would be romantic and that Annabeth would be happier if she was the only one who seemingly mattered to him in that moment

[mostly-imagines]

You knew Damian would take his time adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. He’s even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before you’d even met him. So you’d had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.

In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. You’re waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if he’s okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesn’t mean you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re nothing if not stubborn.

A clatter from the living room has you perking up—Jason’s back. It’s a little early for him to be home already though, and he’s not usually so loud upon re entry unless he’s hurt.

You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.

You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.

“Damian?”

He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jason’s brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.

“No.” Damian’s always standoff-ish, but he’s exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.

“Jason’s not here,” you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of what’s going on.

“I know.” His words are short, measured.

If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?

“Is everything okay?”

He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.

You tilt your head. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You don’t know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you can’t imagine he’s ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.

He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.

Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.

You’ve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him he’s an angry upset, but this…it’s a sad upset. Almost scared.

You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.

You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing you’re going to get from him, so you continue on.

You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.

“Damian,” You whisper.

He doesn’t look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.

You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.

You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.

He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.

You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.

He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.

You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what could’ve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damian’s.

It’s almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.

A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.

“What the hell?” He says quietly, looking back up to you.

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. Did something happen on patrol?”

Jason’s eyes drift down to Damian again. “I mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.”

“That’ll do it.”

He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.

“He let you hug him?”

“He hugged me.”

“He what?”

[satoruxx]

you're sweating when you wake up, skin sticking painfully to your bedsheets as your bleary eyes dart around, attempting to make focus of your surroundings. the room is still dark, barely touched by the slight bit of moonlight that attempts to peak through the closed windows—defiant. it takes a minute to realize that the sounds that are breaking the silence are actually coming from your own throat—breathy, wheezing gasps of terror.

your stomach drops when your fingers grip cold and empty fabric. he's gone he's gone he's go—

"what are you doing up, pretty?"

your head snaps to the doorway. satoru stands there, sweats hanging low on his hips even as his hand remains curled around a glass of water. his hair is tousled with sleep, but his cerulean eyes are sharp and lively.

as soon as he sees the panic lacing your expression, his eyes widen, long legs practically tripping over themselves as he stumbles towards you.

"what happened?" he asks sharply, frantically placing the cup on the bedside table to take your face into his palms. shades of blue dart back and forth across your features as he perches one knee on the mattress and peers down at you. "are you okay?"

his touch sends electricity through your veins—a splash of ice water pulling you away from that painful reverie.

your heart both clenches and soars, the idea of what you saw being terrifying, and yet finding out it wasn't true being that much more relieving.

"i just—" your voice comes out choked, and satoru's fingers twitch against your skin imperceptibly. "had a bad dream."

you think your brain must be cruel for conjuring up a dream in which satoru could suffer to such abhorrent extents.

"oh sweets." satoru's sigh is sympathetically soft, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek just barely. "it was just a nightmare."

"i know," you swallow, voice shaking. there's an uncharacteristic wetness pooling at your waterline. "i-it just felt so real."

"baby..." satoru immediately pulls you against the steady planes of his chest, thick arms snaking around your waist to eliminate any measly amount of distance between you two. you prop your chin on his shoulder, sighing as you feel his snowy hair tickling at your cheek.

"it wasn't real, sweetheart," he says, pulling back just slightly to push a piece of hair from your face. his thumb then drags under your eyes, wiping away the unshed tears. "see. you're here, i'm here. everything's all good."

"yeah." you're nodding, unable to take your eyes off of him because he's real and alive and so breathtakingly perfect. "yeah, you're right."

he gives you a lopsided smile, eyes bright and glowing. "i don't like to brag, but i usually am."

you snort out a laugh, missing the way his expression turns pleased at the sound. "hilarious. you love to brag."

"you got me there," he shrugs, grinning as you stick your tongue out at him. the lighthearted banter solidifies the fact that satoru is fine and unharmed and completely yours, but you can still feel the apprehension coursing through your veins. chills run up your spine—you try not to show it.

but of course, satoru has always been able to see right through you.

his teasing smile goes soft, and he inhales deeply.

"was it about me?" he asks, climbing into bed next you. you lay back down carefully.

"yeah," you mumble, watching him tug the blankets over your body and tuck you both under a cocoon of warmth.

"hm." something in his tone tells you he's not unfamiliar with the feelings you seem to be experiencing—his body shifts closer to yours. ocean eyes carefully asses you, deep and calculating and so concerned even as he smoothes a warm palm over your shoulder blades. "wanna tell me what happened?"

the truth is you do want to, because satoru has always understood you better than you've ever understood yourself—you have no doubt he'd be able to comfort you just as well as he normally does.

and yet...

"no," you answer, pressing your nose into his neck. a deep breath in, the lively scent that is so inherently your gojo satoru filling your very soul. "it's okay. i think i'll be fine."

when you shut your eyes, images flash behind them—of bloodied bodies and stitches and swapped souls. yet a chaste kiss to your forehead pulls you back to where you're supposed to be, warm and grounding.

"i know you'll be fine," satoru murmurs, lips tickling your brow as he speaks. you think you can hear the gentle smile as he says it, and your grip on him tightens—never letting go. "i'm right here after all."

[littlepeach-world]

The Midnight Misunderstanding

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Summary: You give in to your late-night pregnancy cravings and slip out quietly, leaving your husband, Hwang In-ho, to wake up in a frenzy when he finds you missing.

Warnings: Angst, Fear of losing someone, grief, pregnancy, cravings, gun, slight fluff, soft-Inho.

Late into the night, you stretch quietly in bed, your mind drifting through sleepy fog and growing sharper with an insistent craving. Turning to your side, you see your husband, Hwang In-ho, sleeping peacefully beside you. The chill of the night air sends shivers down your spine, but the thought of satisfying your craving warms you with determination. The clock reads 2:47 AM.

Knowing how hard In-ho has been working and how much rest he needs, you decide to slip out discreetly, believing you can make it back before he even notices. You pull on a warm coat, gather your essentials, and tiptoe out the door, careful to close it softly behind you.

Hours seem to pass in what feels like minutes. In-ho stirs awake, reaching out to find your side of the bed cold and empty. He blinks groggily, thinking you might be in another room. "Y/N?" he calls softly, expecting a quick reply or the distant hum of your voice.

When no response comes, he rises slowly, the initial calm giving way to a creeping unease. He checks the adjoining bathroom, then the kitchen, and each empty room sends another pang of worry coursing through him. The house feels eerily quiet, and with each step, the calm facade he tried to maintain begins to crack.

As he makes his way through the silent hallways and finds no sign of you anywhere, panic floods through him instantly. Memories of losing his first wife surge into his mind, and the dread of facing the same heart-wrenching loss with you engulfs him like a tidal wave.

Terror grips his chest as he moves more frantically now. "Yeobo?" he calls out again, his voice slicing through the silence like a knife, but only the echo of his own voice answers him back. His heart races uncontrollably as he grabs his phone, his hands shaking with a mix of fear and urgency.

"I can't find my wife," he says, his voice quivering as he speaks to his guards. "Search the building immediately," he commands, his tone rigid and leaving no room for delay. The icy fingers of fear grip his heart, the stakes now higher than ever with the thought of losing you and the baby—his entire world teetering on the brink of uncertainty.

As he listens to the hurried replies of his guards springing into action, he pulls open the drawer beside his bed and grabs his gun, the cold weight of the metal feeling reassuring in his hand. The transformation is swift—his usual calm demeanor gives way to the steely resolve of the Front Man.

He methodically sweeps through the apartment, each shadow and creak heightening his anxiety. Has something sinister befallen you? Could Gi-hun, that determined Player 456, have somehow found you? The uncertainty gnaws at him, each tick of the clock echoing louder in the eerily quiet apartment. His thoughts race wildly, the sense of impending dread building with each passing second.

Just as his mind threatens to overwhelm him, the soft click of the door breaks the silence. He pivots sharply, raising his gun, only to freeze as you step back inside with a small stack of snacks and an apologetic smile. The weight of the moment crashes over him, the relief almost too much to bear.

"In-ho," you start, but the torrent of emotions inside him is already surging to the surface. He lowers the gun, his hands trembling.

"Where were you?" His voice is a mix of anger, relief, and lingering fear. He steps forward, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, ensuring you're really there and unharmed.

"I... I couldn’t sleep," you say softly, holding up the snacks as a peace offering. "I thought some comfort food might help. I’m sorry if I worried you."

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the tension in his shoulders slowly fading. He pulls you into a fierce embrace, holding you as if you might disappear if he let go. The feel of you, warm and real in his arms, does more to calm his racing heart than anything else.

"I thought..." his voice breaks, unable to finish the sentence. The memories of his first loss are still too raw, the pain too fresh.

You pull back slightly and cup his face in your hands, your eyes filled with understanding and love. "I'm here. I’m not going anywhere," you reassure him, gently stroking his cheek.

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he opens them, there's a new resolve mirrored in their depths. "Next time, wake me," he pleads softly. "I can't... I won't lose you and the baby. You both mean everything to me."

You nod, your heart aching for the pain he’s been through. "I promise," you whisper, and he takes a deep breath, slowly finding his composure again.

With his arm protectively around you, he leads you back to the bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, reassuring light on your path. 

With measured steps, he walks over to the dresser and slides the gun back into the drawer, locking it firmly to ensure it’s secure. The sight of him putting the weapon away brings a greater sense of calm to both of you.

As you reach the bed, he gently guides you to sit on the edge before kneeling in front of you.

His eyes soften as he places his hands on your growing belly, the life inside a beacon of hope amidst his fears. He leans in, tenderly kissing your pregnant belly, a silent vow of protection and love to both you and the unborn child.

"We’re in this together," he murmurs, his lips lingering on your skin. You smile down at him, your hand resting on his head.

Under the covers, he keeps you close, one arm wrapped protectively around you, his hand resting gently on your stomach. The snacks are forgotten on the bedside table as sleep finally takes over, but this time, it’s a peaceful sleep, secure in the knowledge that you’re safe and by his side.

[cyberesc]

IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND.

pairing: Prohero!Bakugo x Prohero!Reader

synopsis: After every mission, Katsuki makes it a habit of checking you for injuries. It’s a routine that’s as comforting as it is embarrassing, especially when your friends start to get the wrong idea.

rating: fluff

The hum of the city buzzed in the background as you and the rest of your team made your way back to the agency. The mission had been a success—minimal collateral damage, civilians unharmed, and the villain apprehended. But the moment you stepped through the doors of the agency’s lobby, you knew what was coming.

Katsuki Bakugou, your ever-determined longtime friend, was already making his way toward you, his gaze sharp and focused. You barely had time to greet the others before Katsuki was in front of you, his eyes scanning you up and down like he was searching for something.

“Kats, I’m fine,” you started to say, but it was no use.

Without a word, his hands reached out and cupped your face, his palms warm and calloused against your skin. He tilted your head gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he examined you for any signs of injury.

It was the same routine every time you finished a mission. No matter how minor or major, Katsuki always insisted on checking you over himself, making sure you hadn’t gotten hurt in the line of duty. It was sweet, in his own way, but it was also… a little embarrassing, especially when it happened in front of your friends.

“Seriously, I’m okay,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up under his intense scrutiny.

“Just shut up and let me look,” he muttered back, his voice low but firm.

You sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue. Katsuki was nothing if not thorough. His red eyes flicked over your face, lingering on a small scrape on your forehead that you’d barely noticed.

“This,” he said, brushing his thumb lightly over the scrape, “looks like it needs disinfecting.”

“It’s just a scratch,” you protested weakly, though the concern in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re getting it cleaned up.”

By now, you were well aware that the rest of your team was watching. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kirishima grinning like an idiot, Mina whispering something to Kaminari, and Sero trying—and failing—to suppress his smirk.

They’d all gotten it into their heads that you and Katsuki were more than just friends. It wasn’t hard to see why, what with the way he was always looking out for you, always making sure you were okay, but the truth was… well, the truth was you wouldn’t mind if they were right.

But Katsuki had never said anything to make you think he saw you as anything more than a teammate and a friend. Sure, he was protective, and sure, he got in your personal space a lot, but that was just how Katsuki was. He cared about the people in his life, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“There,” Katsuki finally said, letting go of your face with a satisfied nod. “No other injuries?”

“Nope, that was it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Good as new.”

“Hmph.” He gave you one last look, as if double-checking, before stepping back.

You exhaled in relief, glad to have your space back, even if you did miss the warmth of his hands. But before you could fully regain your composure, Mina was suddenly at your side, her arm slung around your shoulders as she grinned up at you.

“You two are just too cute,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Honestly, how long are you gonna keep us all in suspense?”

“Mina, come on,” you groaned, trying to brush her off, but she was relentless.

“What? It’s obvious! The way he looks at you, the way you let him fuss over you—” She glanced at Katsuki, who was glaring at her but not denying anything, “—you two are like a married couple already.”

“Shut it, Raccoon Eyes,” Katsuki snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t nobody asked for your commentary.”

“Oh, touche, touche,” Kaminari chimed in, winking at you. “C’mon, Y/N, you’ve got to admit, it’s kinda romantic.”

“Yeah,” Sero added with a grin. “You’ve got your very own knight in shining armor.”

You could feel your face heating up even more, and you shot a pleading look at Kirishima, hoping he might intervene. But Kirishima just laughed, clearly enjoying the show. “Hey, man, they’re not wrong! You two have some serious chemistry.”

Katsuki looked like he was about to explode, and you decided it was time to put an end to the teasing before it got out of hand. “Okay, okay, that’s enough!” you said, holding up your hands. “We’ve all had a long day, so let’s just… chill, alright?”

Mina pouted, but she finally relented, giving you a playful nudge. “Fine, fine. But don’t think you’re off the hook. We’re gonna keep an eye on you two.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful that the attention was finally off you, but when you glanced back at Katsuki, you found him staring at you, his expression unreadable.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—to diffuse the tension, but Katsuki beat you to it.

“Next time, don’t get hurt,” he said, his voice gruff but soft enough that only you could hear. “Can’t stand seeing you like that.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was nod. There was something in his eyes, something vulnerable that made your heart ache.

“I’ll try,” you managed to say, your voice a little shakier than you’d like.

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, before turning on his heel and heading toward the locker rooms. But before he disappeared, he glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze locking with yours. “Get that scrape cleaned up.”

You watched him go, your mind a whirlwind of emotions, and it wasn’t until Mina nudged you again that you realized you were still staring.

“See what I mean?” she whispered, winking. “Totally smitten.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands, but the truth was, you didn’t mind as much as you pretended to. Because even if Katsuki’s habit of fussing over you was a little embarrassing, it was also the highlight of your day.

And maybe, just maybe, one day you’d find the courage to tell him how much those moments meant to you.

© property of cyberesc 2024. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works and do not repost/copy onto any other sites.

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; prologue

wc ; 1572 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; death, neglect, brief mention of drugs, curse words

prologue, one, tbc..

Your death was completely preventable.

As you lay on the concrete floor of the cold alleyway, you can’t help but feel a sense of peace. Yeah, sure, you were shot 5 times and you’re currently bleeding out in some piss-smelling drug-ridden pavement. At least you’ve died in a somewhat honorable way, people will have a tell to tale, whether it’s good or bad, you’ll be remembered for a while.

Or maybe that’s wishful thinking, maybe the lack of blood is making you delirious. There’s no way you’ll be remembered as anything but the child that haunts the manor, that stalks around, staring at the residents of the Wayne manor with hopeful eyes. A child who doesn’t belong, who’s body isn’t able to fill in the cracks in the family, a child who wasn’t able to give anything, to devout anything.

A child of 21, but a child nonetheless. 

The way you got caught up in the shooting was so unbelievably stupid, you were too nice to refuse taking on an extra shift from your co-worker, working overtime for free because you didn’t know how to say no. You got caught up in a fight between goons on your way home. For a brief moment, that small child you had buried foolishly believed your father would swoop down and protect you.

Then you were shot, again and again and again.

You don’t want to die, you decide at the last minute. You want to go back in time, to tell your poor 16-year-old self that yearning for the love of a family who doesn’t have love to give is foolish. A foolish child dying a foolish death.

And then, your eyes shut for the last time, you can almost hear your mother’s low humming, the smell of the dingy, old apartment you used to live in with her, you can taste the cold food she worked to provide (you can feel her hands on your neck, can hear her apologies ringing over and over as she cries).

It’s peaceful, almost nice.

Until you wake up – and your first thought is; what the fuck?

Your hand instinctively moves to your lower abdomen where you were shot – you were shot! You remember the burning pain shooting through you, so why on earth are you unharmed and.. in your bedroom?

It’s strange, why are your old posters up? Trinkets you distinctly remember throwing out, clothes you don’t wear thrown about – and that’s when it happens.

Your eyes catch a reflection in the mirror, your reflection. Your reflection that isn’t yours, why is

your hair shorter? Why are you so small– why are you.. Sixteen?

“What the fuck?” You hiss, jumping out of bed – wobbling as you whip your head around, taking in every nook and cranny of the small room. “What the fuck?!” 

You jump towards the mirror, leaning in as you slap, pinch and stretch your face, awed by the youthful appearance, you had forgotten how cute you looked. No, that seems like the wrong word, you looked sixteen. Just an average sixteen year old, healthy and alive (somehow).

A few moments ago you were lying in a pool of your blood in a run-down alley, an unloved 21 year old – now you’re sixteen again, and you have a chance to change the inevitable! If you ignore the pit of dread in your stomach. Sixteen had been the worst year of your life, full of anger and hormones and teenage drama. Sixteen had been the year you struggled the most.

On the bright side, at least you had a trial run..?

“Young Master (Name)” A british, familiar voice calls out and you tense, whipping your head around to see Alfred. It had almost slipped your mind, Alfred is alive. He’s standing before you, as straight and proper as always, smiling at you as if nothing had changed. As if you hadn’t sobbed at his funeral, as if you hadn’t cursed your family for dragging him into their mess, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights at his grave, as if–

“Are you.. alright?” He asks, taking in the flabbergasted expression on your face – to which you straighten up, nodding with a shaken exhale as you ignore the churning of your stomach. You felt nauseous, everything felt too real in an uncomfortable way. A very uncomfortable way – the mix of emotions threatening to consume you.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast, I was beginning to grow worried.” He explains, taking in the way you nod blankly once more, his brows furrowing. “Is– everything alright”

“Y– yes, I’m just not hungry, I’ll– have something later.” You can’t keep your voice from trembling, you’re five seconds away from breaking down and sobbing before him, but you don’t want to worry him. You need to figure out a game plan, you’ve no time for stupid pleasantries like food, plus even if you tried to eat you’d probably throw up then break down sobbing.

“Alright, Young Master. But please, eat something before noon.” Alfred sighs, clearly worried by your peculiar behaviour, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before he leaves your room, shutting the door behind him with a resounding click. Oh fuck, how are you supposed to interact with anyone in this family if a two minute interaction is enough to have you trembling? Whatever, it matters not! You fumble around with your face for another moment before letting out a long sigh, your head already aching from the bewilderment of the situation. You shuffle over to your bed, plopping down with another huff. You had no idea what to do, no plan to go forward, but you had to figure something out. 

You couldn’t stay in the Manor, you couldn’t deal with the dismissive eyes, the fake words of reassurance. You couldn’t stand curling up in your room, listening to the distant sounds of laughter as everyone celebrated without you. You couldn’t stand being that child again.

“I need to leave.” You say with more firmness than you had intended, your eyes set on the mirror before you. Of a sixteen-year-old (Name), staring back at you with pitiful eyes, you’ll get them out, you’ll give them a future – you’ll give yourself a future.

“Okay. Now, where do I begin?” You mumble, staring up at your ceiling before reaching for your phone. Time to go house hunting at sixteen. Yipee.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Alfred was picking up your plate with a thoughtful expression, breakfast had always been your favourite time of day because it always gave you a chance to see your family. No matter how you felt, or how busy you were. How peculiar.

It’s unusual for you to so blatantly skip it, there’s also that whole thing with your demeanour. Something in you had shifted, and he didn’t like it – it felt as though you were slipping away, as though you had resigned, as though you had stepped back, content in living as a shadow lurking in the dark corners of the Manor.

That simply won’t do. 

He won’t give up on that smiling child, looking up at him with their front tooth missing, dirt staining their clothes as they ramble on about how they found a top secret hide-out, how they can’t wait to tell your big brothers their adventures. 

Well, he’s sure with a few clever strings pulled he can finally put you on centre stage, with the lights shining on you. He just needs to remember to reserve a front row seat, for himself, of course.

“What the fuck?” You grumble, repeating that sentence for the nth time as you angrily type on your phone – why is every apartment in this city and the city over so bummy? It’s either too expensive or overridden with rats or overtaken by gangs.

You never moved houses in your past (?) life, staying in the Wayne Manor was easy once you accepted the inevitability of chasing after a fruitless relationship. Plus, the housing in Gotham and Bludhaven has always been..

Well, it could be better!

“(Name).” Your heart jumps out of your chest as an strangely familiar voice calls out for you, dark, low, paternal. Who on earth?

Your heart sinks as your eyes shift to the figure at your door. Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father, is in your room? What the fuck? This had never happened in your life, certainly not at sixteen. You can recall every single time you’ve ever seen your family, so why? Your hand curls around your phone as you gape up at your father. This isn’t supposed to happen. The one thing grounding you through this crazy, disconnecting experience was the comfort that you were familiar with your future, that you had a grasp on what events are bound to go down.

You’ve been awake for about twenty minutes – how’s it already changed?! Inside you, a deep part of your soul shifts, the air in the room suddenly being sucked in by his overwhelming presence, his eyes – cold and calculating, sizing you up as if you were a specimen, as though you were a pretty piece of silver at an auction and not his flesh and blood, your breathing become uneven as you try to grasp at your memory, anything that might've slipped your mind regarding interactions with your father.

You draw a blank, this has never happened. It's not supposed to happen – what the fuck?!

“Let’s go for a walk.”

yall i feel like this sucks i havent written in like two years im so rusty omg im so embarresed ill die bye

[pathologicalreid]

missed calls | s.r.

in which Spencer answers Hotch's daughter's phone when he calls to check in after a case

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: hotchner!reader, minimal case information, spencer's pov word count: 741 a/n: yooo this is the shortest margotober fic!! but it's so wholesome that i couldn't pick anything else 😭

Your nose whistled with every exhale, with every page he turned, Spencer looked down at your sleeping form to make sure he wasn’t disturbing you. He ignored the buzzing of your phone, Hotch told everyone not to come in until the briefing at ten, so the buzzing wasn’t something he’d concern himself with. He’d rather you catch up on sleep.

Turning the next page, he moved his hand down and swept some hair from your face, freezing when you stirred. He kept his eyes on you, making sure you didn’t fully wake up before he returned to his book.

Last week, a case had gone wrong, and you ended up at the center of it. Physically, you were unharmed, but the way the case went down took a toll on you mentally. You tried to accept the blame, but no one else would allow you to be blamed.

It had been keeping you up at night, thinking you could’ve done something differently that would’ve led to a different outcome. You would stare at the ceiling for all hours of the morning until either your alarm went off or you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open. Sleep deprivation in the field was dangerous, Spencer knew that from personal experience.

So, when the two of you came home from work, decided to decompress on the couch and you fell asleep with your head in his lap, he resolved himself to a night on the couch. If he had to suffer a stiff neck in the morning, he’d get through it just so you can get the rest you so desperately need.

Looking back over at your phone as it rang again, he adjusted the blanket that you had thrown over yourself before finally picking up the phone. He hummed at the screen, your dad was calling you, three times in the last ten minutes.

Spencer looked down at you, your hands folded beneath your head as you dreamt, and he couldn’t get himself to wake you. It felt cruel to wake you when this is the first time you’ve fallen asleep naturally in days, so instead of having you answer the phone, he clicks the green icon and answers the call himself.

“Hey, Hotch,” he greeted, keeping his voice low so that he wouldn’t ruin his own plan and wake you up.

Your father is silent on the other line for a moment, probably checking his screen to double check which number he had called, “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a hint of fatherly concern laced in his tone.

Watching you sleep, Spencer looked at you as he responded, “She’s right here, she’s asleep.”

Hotch was silent on the other end of the call; he was more than aware of your sleeping problems. Just yesterday, he had pulled Spencer into his office to ask him what was going on with you, which clued Spencer into the fact that you were messing up at work. Little things like missing a checkbox on paperwork and forgetting files on your desk when you were supposed to be in the roundtable room.

Spencer gently cleared his throat, “Did you need to talk to her?” It was a leading question, Spencer was providing the answer on a silver platter, nearly begging your father to just let you sleep.

“No,” Hotch answered quickly, practically scrambling to get the answer out. “No, don’t wake her,” he iterated, “Just, uh… will you tell her I called?”

Nodding even though he couldn’t see, Spencer responded, “Yeah, I’ll tell her in the morning.”

Your dad was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again, “Reid?”

“Yes, sir?” He answered dutifully, his voice just hovering over a whisper as you adjusted in your sleep.

“Thank you,” he responded, matching Spencer’s quiet tone over the phone, likely because Jack was already asleep for the night. “For watching over her,” he continued, clarifying why exactly he was expressing gratitude.

Spencer gently smoothed your hair back, personally grateful to see peace on your face as you slept. “It’s my pleasure,” he whispered in response.

Your dad cleared his throat, “Have a good night, Reid.”

“You as well,” Spencer moved the phone, ending the call before returning it to its place on the side table. Unable to reach you, he pressed two of his fingers to his lips before resting them on your temple, effectively kissing you goodnight before he lifted his book and went back to reading.

[luveline]

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking. 

You jump. 

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious. 

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves. 

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?” 

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?” 

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“Why did you do that?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?” 

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” 

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief. 

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.” 

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down. 

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?” 

“She jumped across the roof.” 

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured. 

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.” 

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?” 

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook. 

“Well, clearly I can.” 

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.” 

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.” 

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.” 

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again. 

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry. 

“I had it.” 

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.” 

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Can you pls do the Mingle game scene where Hwang offs player 343 but instead of player 390 witnessing it, it’s us?

Keeping you safe

Squid Game masterlist

Hwang In-ho/Frontman/Young-il x fem!reader

Cw: Death of player 343, mentions of players getting shot, slightly different from how it went in the series.

"Two."

Right after the voice stopped, you were suddenly grabbed by Young-il, who dragged you off towards an empty room. Almost there, another player bumped into you, causing you to lose balance, when another player tried running into the room you two were heading to, but Young-il was faster, grabbing the man and pulling him out, then quickly went inside telling you to get in as quickly.

Inside you discovered another player already inside, it was player 343, who looked stunned when he saw you two. Young-il's gaze instantly fixed on him.

"Get out." Young-il growled, and player 343 backed off against the wall.

"We were here first." He defended, but Young-il had enough and rushed over to him. The guy Young-il pulled out wanted to make his way inside, and you closed the door, keeping it shut, and turned to see Young-il holding player 343 in chokehold, slumped against the wall, slowly pulling him down with him as the counter was at 10 seconds left.

Looking at Young-il's face, it almost seemed like he had a smirk on his lips, but you couldn't make it out because of the dim light.

At this point all the other players were desensitized when it came to the others getting killed, but you were not. You didn't want this poor player to die.

"W-wait, Young-il, don't–"

But he didn't listen, instead, he snapped player 343's neck right infront of you, the sound echoed through the room, which the sound alone had your spine crawling.

The body of him was slumped against Young-il, just as the timer ran out, the lock clicked in place and the players still outside were shot by the guards.

"Why did you–" you stuttered.

Young-il dumped the body into the corner, standing up and let out a heavy breath.

"You know if I didn't do it we would be killed instead." he said, walking over to you, looking through the slit on the door.

"But you could have thrown him out..." you tried arguing.

His head turned a bit, it looked like the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk just slightly.

"And let the other asshole come in?" He turned to face you fully. "He was already inside. I could have just closed the door and leave you out there."

For once, you couldn't come up with anything else to argue, you knew he was right, but killing still didn't feel right to you.

"Listen," His hand came up, resting on your shoulder "I did it for you, to save you. And if it means killing another player myself, then so be it."

You swallowed hard, looking into his eyes as they softened while looking into yours. His hand went from your shoulder to gently grab your chin.

"From now on, you should stick close to me. I may be the only one here caring about you. The others would rather kill you, but not me." He spoke softly, holding eye contact with you the whole time.

His grip tightened slightly, letting you know he means it. "Understood?"

All the emotions inside you made you nod weakly in response.

Young-il released you, smiling and patting your shoulder. "Good. You'll soon see how much I care about you."

Then the speaker announced the games to continue, the lock on the door was unlocked leaving you both to get out and continue with the games.

You don't know if you should feel safe or not, knowing Youg-il would even kill for you if it means keeping you unharmed.

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: You help Eric through an anxiety attack

Note: Obsessed with Eric and I need to protect him from the world, please and thank you. Also, Frodo divider created by me 😊

Warnings: anxiety, panic

Words: 1.5k

The carved out hull of the decimated subway car offers little in the way of protection, but with the power out it seems likely not to cause any unwarranted noise. 

Eric ushers you in before himself, the light from the fluorescents of the station giving the two of you just enough to see by. The seats and bent handrails cast gruesome shadows across the small space, and you decide to take advantage of one particularly large pocket of darkness in the corner. 

Your back presses up against the cool metal, dented from God only knows what. Slowly, you slide down to the floor and Eric lowers himself down beside you. Both of you are caked with dirt and there’s blood smeared against one leg of your jeans. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to belong to either one of you. 

A steady stream of water is somewhere near, the comforting sound letting you breathe just a little easier. Eric must feel the same because he dares to lean in towards you and speak softly.

“Are you okay?”

Never did that seem more complex of a question. You’re not okay in the grand scheme of things, but you’re currently still alive and, for the most part, unharmed. 

“I think so,” you whisper in reply. “Are you?”

Eric nods, rubbing his hands up and down his shins, the worn brown material wearing even thinner in a few spots now. 

The two of you were fortunate to run into one another in an alleyway between two buildings—the only stroke of luck either of you have had lately. A natural ease quickly proved that you worked well together and seeing as neither of you wanted to be alone, the choice was obvious. 

Even though it’s only been roughly twenty-four hours since you’ve met, with all you’ve been through in that time, it feels as if you’ve known Eric for ages. There was no denying how cute he was either, but your brain barely had time for fleeting thoughts like that when your focus is on staying alive. 

“How’s your hand?” Eric asks.

You look at the offending appendage, purple from bruising, slightly swollen, and throbbing. Though, it’s slightly better since you’d found that bodega and swiped all the Tylenol and ibuprofen they had. 

During the initial chaos of the invasion—is that what to call it? —your back was up against the brick wall of an apartment building and a man was sent hurtling in the air towards you. Your hand had the misfortune to get crushed between the high velocity man and the brick wall. Ever since you’ve met Eric, he’s been helping you wrap your hand and always checking in on it. 

“It’s sore,” you admit. 

“Let me see?” Eric extends his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you place your injured hand in his. 

Warm, calloused fingers undo the binding currently covering the wound and toss them to the subway floor. It feels nice to let your hand breathe a bit, get some air. With just a featherlight touch, Eric traces his index finger around the mottled skin. The delicate touch sends goosebumps up your arm. If he notices them, he doesn’t say. 

A sense of disappointment fills your gut when he releases your hand to get fresh bandages. You chew on your chapped bottom lip as you watch Eric rummage through the Phantom of the Opera tote bag you’d snagged from one of those tourist gift shops. 

He sprays a bit of disinfectant spray on your hand, the mist feeling doubly cold after having the warmth of his large hand enveloping yours. Next comes a fresh bandage. Eric always applies them so carefully, making sure it’s not too tight but gives your hand some support. You watch him as he works, your eyes taking in the small details of his face while he’s busy focusing on something else.

His dark eyelashes are so long that they kiss his cheeks with every blink. The curls on the top of his head are messy from everything they’ve been through, but it’s unkempt in a charming way. It amazes you how dry his lips are from dehydration, yet they still look so pink and inviting. 

Eric secures the bandage on your hand, and you momentarily move on to admiring the color and depth of his eyes when you realize he’s finished and no longer distracted. 

Heat comes to your face, so you lift your injury up to inspect it, hoping to give you a minute to cool down. 

“Thank you,” you whisper when you lay your hand back down in your lap. 

“Of course.”

The good thing about needing to keep quiet during all of this is that none of the silences could be interpreted as awkward. It’s just self-preservation. 

It goes on that way for about ten minutes before you feel your head get heavy and decide to lean it against Eric’s shoulder. It’s not long before he gently rests his head on top of yours. Despite the circumstances around you, a small smile grows on your lips.

But your peace doesn’t last long. A groaning of metal and the now too-familiar skittering of legs or pincers or whatever they’re called. 

By the sound of it, you guess that the creature is coming from your left, somewhere down the subway track. But there’s no reason for it to know you’re here. As long as you can remain quiet, the monster should just pass you by without trouble. 

A hitch in breath from beside you grabs your attention though. Your head jerks in the direction of Eric to find his breathing speed up and his eyes widen in that recognizable panic. 

Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you get his attention and his head whips to face you. With your other, injured hand, you hold up a finger to your mouth for him to stay quiet.

Eric nods but the rate of his breathing only increases. You shake your head and lean in towards him. 

“Breathe.” The words could barely be considered a full whisper. 

You’ve helped him through these anxiety attacks a few times now so you try to tell yourself you can do it again. You can’t blame the poor guy for being so scared, either. 

The clicking of the approaching monster comes closer then stops. It feels as if time pauses while you wait to see what will happen now. 

Smashing the play button, the creature falls from where it must have been crawling on the ceiling, to land on the subway platform.

Eric jumps and you see his teeth clench together as he tries to keep the panic at bay. 

Step by crunching step, the being stalks closer to your subway car. Even though it can’t see you, instinct tells you to get further out of sight.

As silently as possible, you scoot over so there’s enough room for you to lay flat on the floor of the car. Eric glances down at you and you motion for him to do the same. He gives you a quick nod and with shaking hands, moves to lay down next to you.

Within the cramped space it’s hard for two adults to lay flat, side by side, so Eric ends up on his side, facing you. If you turned your head to look at him, your noses would brush. 

One long black limb stretches out from the creature and crushes a piece of metal right outside your car—probably the remains of an adjoining car. 

Eric’s anxiety spikes again and before you can think about it, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and bring his body down on top of yours. 

It’s not the most comfortable angle for either of you, almost awkward. But Eric wastes no time grabbing onto your waist, his head falling to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Consciously, you slow your breathing down in hopes that Eric’s will follow your lead. 

Another crunch of metal rents the air and you both jump, clinging tighter to one another. Eric’s grip on your body changed positions slightly, and now his head is resting right over your heart. 

You glance down and watch as Eric visibly calms. He takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes slip closed as he lays against you. 

It takes you a few moments to realize what caused the change. Eric’s head is on its side, his right ear directly over your heart. He’s listening to your heartbeat. And it’s calming him. The thought alone makes your heart rate speed up. 

Slowly, you reach up and gently rest your hand in his hair. He tilts his chin up so he can see your face and you give him a small smile. The one he gives you in return brings forward the confidence to begin running your fingers through Eric’s soft curls. 

The two of you stay that way, listening as the creature moves farther and farther away, until you can’t hear it at all anymore.

But even then, after the immediate threat is gone and everything seems peaceful and calm around you, you both still stay that way. His hands holding onto your body, his head over your heart, and you carding your fingers through his curls. 

Maybe this subway car is a better place to be than you originally thought. 

[amomentsescape]

Reader runs behind slasher because someone else is harassing/chasing/stalking them. They don't even know they hid behind a killer for help and apologized to the killer for their awkward action of hiding behind them.

Imagine if reader is so polite that they do a apologetic bending bow.

Slashers Being the Protector (Rather than the Killer)

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, & Bo

Warnings: Being chased/stalked, maybe a couple cuss words?

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn't do the bow for every Slasher since I felt like it would get repetitive after a while. But I hope you enjoy either way!

Obviously, walking home alone is never your first choice, but it's not like you had an option.

Your job kept you late. And as much as you wished you could have just set some damn boundaries for yourself, you couldn't say no. You were probably the only one that actually cared about your job.

You kept a fast pace, holding your head down as to not make eye contact with anyone you passed by.

And this worked for a while. You were at a point in your journey home where you found yourself completely alone. However, there was still a part of you that felt uneasy. They always say that humans are able to tell when someone is watching them, and you were clearly no exception to this.

You finally took a deep breath and paused, mustering up the courage to look at your surroundings.

The woods were beside you, the darkness only allowing you to see a few trees at a time, but thankfully, no one seemed to be there.

Ahead of you was just more concrete and not a single street lamp in view.

And behind you... was someone.

You hadn't expected to see anyone there, but of course your luck would prove otherwise.

Your eyes widened and your breath got caught in your throat. Why were they just standing there?

Without taking your eyes off of them, you took one step backwards.

They took one forwards.

You took another step.

They did too.

It was in that moment that you knew you had to think quickly.

Should you just turn around and keep running straight ahead? No, that would prove useless. They would surely outrun you and grab ahold of you in no time.

Or should you turn and run to the woods, hiding behind trees for long enough that they give up?

You didn't like this idea much more than the first, but you figured this was probably the only option that got you out of this unharmed.

With your eyes watering and jaw clenching, you sprinted towards the woods.

You could hear their footsteps behind you, branches and leaves snapping in the distance.

They were catching up.

A sob slipped from your lips as you could feel your legs burn.

Keep pushing. Keep going.

And you did, right towards a figure in the distance.

Freddy Krueger

He could hear your sporadic heartbeat from a mile away

He was already smiling, hoping that you were about to be another easy victim

But something about your fright felt off

Someone else was after you

The moment you came into view, his smile softened a bit

You looked so desperate and scared

In any other context, he would have loved to see it, but it wasn't him making you feel this way

Plus, you weren't repulsive to him like everyone else

He could see the split second of hesitation on your face when you saw his gnarled skin and sharp gloves

But clearly that other person had spooked you more

You were already apologizing, begging for some sort of help

You weren't even six feet from Freddy when he raised his arm and a sudden thud could be heard behind you

The person who was once following you no longer had a head

You turned back to the burnt man, suddenly feeling worried that you would be next, but instead, he grabbed the side of your face

"I can't blame the guy. I would have wanted to snatch you up too," he cackled

Michael Myers

Michael raised a single brow under his mask

Clearly, you were terrified of the person chasing after you, but was seeing another large man holding a bloody knife of no concern to you?

You ran up to him, coming to an immediate stop when you saw the blade glinting back at you

"I-I need help. Please," you could barely choke out

He could tell you were trying to figure out who to be more afraid of

It's not like Michael really cared that you were being chased, but this was his territory, no one else is allowed to do his job for him

He stepped in front of you, watching as the other person slowly came to a halt

He grabbed your arm and began to drag you towards the figure

You started to cry at this, thinking he was about to give you up

Instead, his knife plunged deeply into the other person's neck, their body collapsing to the ground

You had blood splattered on you, and you could still feel the fear in your chest

You gave him a soft bow, wordlessly thanking him before stumbling back out

It was only when you heard a branch snap behind you that you turned around

He was still behind you

As you kept walking, he kept following

You really thought he'd just help you without something in return?

Jason Voorhees

He thought he killed everyone already, so how did he miss you?

How did he miss someone so cute too?

Oh, you're running towards him instead of away

This is odd

If he had been any other average sized person, you would have tackled him to the ground with how hard you collided with him

"I-I need help. Please!" you cried out, rushing behind him

He quickly took notice of the person chasing after you, them stopping in their tracks at the sight of Jason

Now, who's being hunted?

The stalker began to run the other way, not failing to notice the freshly bloodied machete like you did

However, with Jason's stride, it didn't take long for him to catch up and knock the person's head clean off in one swipe

He took a deep breath and turned back to face you, expecting you to be running for the hills

Instead, you ran up and hugged him, thanking him through your tears

You weren't... scared?

He had no idea what to do, so he just stood there while you cried into him

At least he was right about his earlier judgment

You were cute

Too cute to turn into just another victim

Thomas Hewitt

He was actually making his way towards you both

He thought you two would be good additions to tonight's menu

But the moment he saw you look at him in relief instead of terror...

Something in him shook

Before you could even say anything, he was guiding you behind him, some protective instinct overriding his usual hunter side

The person who was following put their hands up, saying that they "didn't want any trouble"

And in response, Thomas through a meat cleaver at their head

You about screamed but he turned around, looking at you softly

"I-I'm sorry. You didn't have to d-do that," you said barely above a whisper

He just shook his head and continued to watch you, some internal battle waging inside him

He really really didn't want to kill you

But what would his family think?

Only one way to find out, he supposes

With that, he hoists you up and into his arms bridal style, carrying back home

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is about three times the size of the guy chasing you

So despite the unpleasant mask, you felt like he was your only chance at safety

He tilted his head in confusion

Normally, people like you run the opposite way from him

So the moment you're in front of him, heaving and shakily explaining what's going on, he feels angry

He might be a murderous cannibal, but Mama taught him some manners

He quickly whips out the chainsaw beside him, causing you to jump at the sight

Now it was the stalker's turn to be afraid

You were left in the woods for probably 15 minutes alone, still too scared to unfreeze yourself from the spot

It was only when you saw a large figure in the distance carrying something that you finally got your bearings

Bubba walked a little past you, holding the body of the man prior

He stops for a second and looks at you, motioning his head for you to follow

And what were you going to do?

Say "no" to the man holding a chainsaw and a dead body?

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was already on edge

He never strayed this far from the mansion, and the fact that he was out this far made him feel very jumpy

So when he saw you running straight for him, he was ready to attack

Until he saw the desperation on your face

"Help! Please!" you begged him

And a cute thing like yourself would be difficult for him to deny

He saw the figure stalking after you, slowing down when they realized they had company

Brahms stepped in front of you and gave the person a challenged look

And it seemed to have worked, because the person began to back off almost immediately

He could have killed the guy, sure

But he wasn't going to be a threat anymore

Why? Because you were coming home with him

And once you're in his territory, there's no leaving

He'll make sure of it

Norman Bates

Norman wasn't even sure how he got there in the first place

All he remembers was being at home when suddenly everything went black

And now he was here, watching as some person runs up to him him in a panic

Before he could say a word, you were holding onto him, spinning yourself around so you were behind him

And that's when he saw another figure in the distance

"P-please," you suddenly croaked, "I don't know who that is. I was just walking home alone and I-"

He shushes you, his eyes still locked on the man

He could feel your head bump into his back as you bowed, muttering apologies to him

"It's okay," he reassured. "They're not going to do anything."

His brows furrowed as his face twitched

Maybe it was your cute panicked face, or the way your soft hands were gripping his back

But either way, Norman could feel his conscious fading out

He won't hurt you, though the same can't be said for the other person

He just hopes you'll still be there when he comes to

Billy Loomis

You were terrified, that was obvious

But he was honestly surprised that you seemed more scared of a random weirdo behind you than the notorious serial killer straight ahead

You grabbed his arm, not failing to notice the sharp blade in his dominant hand

"I-if you're going to kill me," you gulped, "Then fine, but can you please kill them first?" you motioned

This may have been an odd suggestion to most, but the worst Ghostface was going to do was stab you, but you had no idea what the other person's intentions were

The creep was only a few feet away now, their hand also donning a sharp blade

Billy wouldn't have normally entertained such an idea, but he knew you from school

And God, were you pretty

"Shit," he whispered

He twirled the knife around as he approached the figure, the latter already stepping back

It was an easy kill, and Billy was back to your side in no time

"Thank you," you bowed, head down and awaiting your fate

Instead, he grabbed your chin and made you look at his mask

He couldn't wait to see you at school the next day

Stu Macher

He could see you freeze the moment you were in sight

The Ghostface attire was already pretty notorious in the town, and he could see the worry on your face at the realization

And clearly, the person chasing you also felt the same, because the moment they saw him, they ran off the other direction

Tears began to stream down your face at this

Although, he couldn't tell if they were from relief or fear at that point

He stepped a little closer to you as you stumbled back

"P-please, don't, I-"

He dropped his knife and reached out to you in response

You shakily took his hand, obviously scared of what he was going to do

But he simply began walking you out of the woods, checking around for the creep

He walked you all the way home before giving you a small wave and running off, leaving you completely dumbfounded

He spared you?

It took you a few days afterwards to almost forget about the situation

Until you turned on the news

There was a report of a dead body found in the same woods you were just in a couple nights before

Another apparent criminal from the area...

You gulped, realizing it was your stalker as the phone suddenly rang

"Unknown caller"

Huh, weird

Vincent Sinclair

Bo somehow got him to leave that musty old building

But of course, he ran off to God knows where and left Vincent alone

So the moment he saw your figure sprinting closer, he assumed that Bo would be the one to follow

However, he quickly noticed that the man behind you was not his brother, and he suddenly felt dumbfounded on what to do

Bo would surely be pissed, but something about you told him you shouldn't become just another wax figure in his collection

So the moment you were close enough, he was stepping in front of you, some newfound confidence leading him

The stalker hesitated for a moment before finally stumbling back, leaving the two of you alone

"Thank you, thank you!" you repeated, your head instinctively shifting downwards

Vincent took a deep breath in while looking at you

Yep, Bo was definitely going to be angry

But oh well

You were just too sweet to let go stale

Bo Sinclair

He could hear your erratic footsteps rushing closer to him

And unlike most of the others on this list, he comes off as a seemingly normal guy, so of course you wouldn't hesitate to go to him

His cocky smile only widens when he gets a look at your face

A mighty cute thing, you are

"Excuse me? Sir, I think I'm being followed and-" your voice cracked

How precious

Surely too pretty and too soft to be made into hard wax, hmm?

He steps towards you, and you think he's about to help you

But no

He grabs ahold of your shirt tightly, muttering some smooth nonsense to your stalker about finding "a good place for this one"

Tears begin to stream down you face

How could you have so blindly trusted a stranger?

He leads the both of you back to some empty building that you assume will be the last place you'll be alive

But the moment Bo turns back around, a pipe is swung into the other man's head

He'd be a great addition to the museum

You turn to your "savior" in confusion

"Can't let a pretty thing like you go to waste, huh darlin'?"

All you can do is tilt your head down in a silent "thank you"

[thisisjustfanfic]

Touch

Drabbles of the LADS Men

{SFW & NSFW}

(Done as writing warmup)

Xavier:

Touch for him is either all or nothing. Like a door locked up tight. At first there is nothing. No touch except for the most chaste and innocent brushes. Nothing that could ever be considered anything more than professional or courteous.

Once that door opens though? Once he feels safe to open up? There's no going back. He's a leech. A little tick in your skin that you'd have to cut the head off of to get rid of at this point.

There's no question of his feelings once that damn breaks, though his mouth might not always give him away- his hands do.

A hand at your waist, or holding your hands. A tether tying the drifting ship at sea to the anchor of you.

He can still maintain professionalism while you're working, but the touches linger. They hold tighter, forcing you still until he can make sure you're unharmed. He touches your waist a lot, holding you in place or maneuvering you where he wants.

Kisses are sweet but moving. A slow dance as even the lightest peck lures him in. The feel of your lips a dangerous drug for him. Even a tiny hit is enough to make him wild.

NSFW

Xavier is the least concerned about PDA (outside of work of course). He doesn't care if people see him hold you. If he get's weird looks when he uses the anchor of his hand on your hip to pull you through a crowd. Or if someone happens to pass by the greenhouse window when you're laid out for him among the greenery.

His admiration for how easily he can move you around really shows itself when you're intimate. His hand in you hair, guiding you up and down his cock. He's not forceful, but he his firm. You don't move without his guidance.

He'll kiss you anywhere. Anywhere he can reach. Whatever skin that might be closest is where he'll drag his lips, nipping at you until you jump. The way you respond to his touch is dizzying. The fact that its him doing it is addictive.

He'd spend a lot of time letting his hands roam. Like they're restless. Dragging his fiongers up and down your body, skating over the places you want him unti your trembling. Begging rarely works- he likes the sound of it too much to stop.

Zayne:

Zayne is frugal with physical touch at first. Almost shy. To him, there is no rush. No need for desperation when there's all the time in the world.

He's fond of little caresses. A brush of the hair. A slide of the back of your hands against one another. Like flint and steel, striking to cause tiny infinitesimal sparks.

Before you're together, touch is reserved to necessity only. Examinations are one of them. Though neither one of you clues the other in to how much those touches entice the other. You feel ashamed for liking the touch of your doctor, and your doctor berates himself for how much he likes touching his patient.

Once together though, things aren't that different on the outside. It comes as a shock to those around the two of you because Zayne doesn't seem to act any different around you.

Alone though, he's a magnet. He might not reach out and touch, but he likes to be close. Sitting with legs pressed together, shoulders touching. If he can get away with it, you in his lap. It feels like to parts of a whole, sliding back into place.

Kissing him is either sweet and light, or dark and devouring. He's either the polite and gentle doctor that will kiss you like a gentleman. Holding the sides of your face to slowly press your lips to his, so delicate.

OR he's a man starved. His mouth dry and panting and the only relief is the wetness of your mouth, your tongue. Behind closed doors, he'll dine himself upon you like it's the last time. A man possess. Afterwards, he;ll always apologize, unsure of what comes over him.

NSFW

Zayne is a gentleman. Considerate too. He takes what you want into account and so will touch you like playing an instrument. The human body is a map he knows well, and yours is one he wants undone.

He learns the spots that you like, the spots you don't, and everything in between. He uses his mouth more than his hands, tasting the places he plays with you.

His favorite is being against your neck and chest- his lips and teeth leaving tiny marks easily hidden by your clothes. He likes the feel of your breath and your heartbeat against him. He can feel the way your breath stutters as you ride him, or when your heart pounds so hard he can feel the beat of it on his tongue.

He likes to feel you come as much as hear it and see it. He’ll make you wait to come until he’s inside, his fingers or his cock. Either way is fine for him. So long as he can physically feel it.

Rafayel:

Rafayel is a tease. Mean sometimes with how he likes to play with you. Sometimes you wonder what you've done to deserve this (if only you knew).

Making him wait 800 years makes a man both desperate, and very patient.

At first, it's hard to tell whether his touches are because he's attracted to you or because that's just how he is. When you start off as his bodyguard, you spend most of your time within three feet of him, and lots of the time some part of you is touching.

Eventually you realize that no- he isn't like that with everyone. If fact, he goes to some lengths to not be touched by other people. Even Thomas, his manager AND his friend, doesn't get so much as a handshake.

Though you get your hair mussed and cheeks pinched. Teasing you about some silly thing you've said or done. Or playfully punishing you for neglecting your job as a bodyguard, like you aren't ALSO a hunter.

The touches stay teasing once your together, but also soft. The gentle things like a caress, a brush of his hands against your hip-- those tender things he seemed reluctant to do until you were his.

He doesn't hug so much as cling. He doesn't kiss without the tiniest bit of tongue. A little taste at the end of every kiss across your lips.

NSFW

Rafayel touches with his whole body, and likes to cover you with it.

He likes to have as much as possible touching. From chest to hips, all the way to toes. He thrusts with his whole body, not just his hips. It’s lead to you smacking your head on the headboard more than once. To combat this, he’s figured out he can lace his fingers on top of your head to keep you in place so he can really pound into you.

Or, he likes to have you leaning against him. He’ll sit up against the headboard or even in a chair and have you in his lap, bodies pressed from shoulders to hips and he’ll play with you like one plays an instrument. Splayed out, preferably with a mirror in front of you. Oh it’s not for you. It’s for him. He wants to see everything.

Sylus:

Sylus is touchy, but keeps it only to certain areas. There are parts of your body that he seemed to tink was open season from the beginning. Your hands being one of them.

He likes to intertwine your fingers, watching as they lock together. The glow of the linkage that shows up reflects off his face and he always looks so smug.

His love language (one of them) is quality time. Any time he can spend with you is time well spent, and even better if he can somehow touch you.

PDA isn’t really for him, especially in the N109 zone, but in the safety of Linkon he’ll kiss your forehead or hold his hand at your lower back.

He likes to carry you, if you’ll let him. From piggy backs to princess carry, it makes him feel strong and settles something restless inside him. Like you might float away on the breeze, but when you’re in his arms, you can’t slip away

NSFW

Marking. Claiming. Anytime he can suck a mark onto you is an opportunity taken. Better if he can dig his teeth in too.

It takes him a while to let himself be as rough as he wants, because at the end of the day he never wants to hurt you.

It makes him feel vulnerable, how desperate he is to touch you. And he can get pussydrunk so easily. A slave to your taste and your touch. He maintains control by a single thread sometimes.

He likes to kiss your chest. To feel your heartbeat against his lips. The aether core in your chest harmonizes with the one his eye, making the most intense sublime resonance. The sensation of it is like lightning to his spine, jolting pleasure down to his very marrow. And he likes to leave a little bite there when he inevitably comes from the feeling.

[wttcsms]

short n' sweet welcome to wttcsms' 2024 kinktober !! inspired by sabrina carpenter's latest (ovulation) album, this is a collection featuring fics that are, just like the song inspo, short, sometimes sweet, definitely horny ᡣ𐭩 ( fem!reader )

the espresso edit is . . . fun! flirty! it's featuring dynamics where you're seemingly out of reach and he can't get you out of his head. reader playing coy + he's getting desperate for you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night . ݁˖ . ݁ jealous sex ! seishiro nagi┆there's nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. [releases oct. 4] + soft yandere!nagi

. ݁₊ ⊹ when they act this way (i know i got 'em) . ݁˖ . ݁ angry & rough sex ! kiyoomi sakusa┆kiyoomi sakusa is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants most right now is you. too bad you're the biggest fucking tease in the world. fine by him, though. because when he gets his hands on you — and he will — you're going to see what exactly all your thirst traps did for him. [releases oct. 5] + overstimulation

the juno edit is . . . domesticity ᡣ𐭩 newlywed life, fucking in the kitchen, "welcome back from work" blowjobs — and a raging breeding kink.

. ݁₊ ⊹ let you lock me down tonight . ݁˖ . ݁ marathon sex ! yoichi isagi┆high off of ending the soccer season with a world cup win secured, your newlywed husband showers you in all the attention he couldn't give you when he was too busy being the world's best striker. [releases oct. 11] + breeding, wet n' messy

. ݁₊ ⊹ if you love me right, then who knows? . ݁˖ . ݁ size kink ! jinchul woo┆you decide it's time to let your beloved bodyguard relax. [releases oct. 12] + breeding, roleplaying(?) domesticity

. ݁₊ ⊹ adore me, mark your territory . ݁˖ . ݁ corruption kink ! kenyu yukimiya┆after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. [releases oct. 25] + dark(ish) content, virginity loss [both you + yukimiya], you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, manipulative!yuki, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, breeding

the bed chem edit is . . . sexual tension. it's being in an enclosed space with each other immediately after the two of you just had the nastiest wet dreams about each other.

. ݁₊ ⊹ come right on me (i mean camaraderie!) . ݁˖ . ݁ praise kink ! tetsurou kuroo┆starting a new job is scary, especially when it seems like you can't do anything correctly. good thing that your manager is always so kind and reassuring and supportive. when a client meeting ends terribly and runs so late that the two of you have to check into a hotel to spend the night, your sweet manager knows a good way to cheer you up... [releases oct. 18] + oh no!!! there's only one bed!!!, work senpai!kuroo (im sorry, you do call him senpai on occasion), sex in an enclosed, semi-public space (the office's storage closet)

. ݁₊ ⊹ talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things . ݁˖ . ݁ sex pollen ! soshiro hoshina┆after narrowly avoiding a kaiju attack unharmed, you think you’ve gotten away unscathed until you start feeling an unfamiliar, unsatiable heat building inside of you. it’s almost similar to the funny butterflies you get in your tummy when you see your older brother’s rival, third division vice captain soshiro hoshina. and wouldn’t you know it: you just so happen to cross paths with him.  [releases oct. 19] + love confessions, forbidden romance-ish, narumi’s younger+civilian sister!reader, soft dom!hoshina, biting [look at his lil fangs, he HAS to be a biter], getting caught by narumi at the end