#You wake up abruptly in the middle of the night and startle him awake

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, kinda angsty

warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own

a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3

Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned. 

He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered. 

"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.

"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you. 

"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.

"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.

Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.

Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.

"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin -  something ruined touching something holy.

"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.

"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.

When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb. 

It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.

"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.

"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."

"But you did steal it, didn't you?'

"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.

"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."

"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."

Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.

"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.

"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.

"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.

"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his. 

There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heya hiya bbg!! since you are writing for bucky i might as well do 10 y/o me some justice <3

i weirdly remember this dream i had (most of my requests are my delusional ahh dreams oml😞) where reader basically calms him after a nightmare like asking him what happened, if he wants to talk abt it, humming/singing to him, trying to cheer him up, etc etc

v cute v fluffy <3

hopefully u can get to this soon! have a great week/end!

-🪐

angel my bbg hi!! love it love it love it!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌

UNRESTED.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 647

warnings. reverse comfort bc I can’t stop myself from writing it, nightmares but no description. it’s just fluff and comfort

It was no secret that Bucky didn't sleep well, often tormented by memories, leaving him with minimal hours of uninterrupted rest. Most nights were the same, him restlessly tossing in bed, murmuring and jolting as though he's stuck in the past - reliving it all over again.

Tonight was no different. You were nudged awake by your boyfriend sleeping to the right of you, his twitching movements hustling the mattress and snatching the covers. You check the time on your phone and sit up slowly, adjusting beside Bucky. 

You extend a hand, hesitantly reaching for him. You place your palm over his shoulder, the sheen of his cold sweat permeating your skin. "James," you whisper, trying not to startle him. "James," you try again. 

He abruptly sits, lids flinging open, a deep, heavy inhale filling his lungs. "God," he murmurs, brushing a hand down his face. His breathing is ragged and strained, shoulders tensing under your touch.

You brush your hand down his back, stroking over him smoothly. "You're awake. It's okay," you coo, drawing circles over his scarred skin - trying to refocus his mind.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hands, his breathing beginning to even out. "Was the same one again," he mumbles, his voice soft and saddened against his palms.

Your touch remains warm, trailing over him lovingly. "It sounded like it," you whisper, your tone gentle. "I'm sorry, love."

You slip your free hand into his metal one, carefully pulling it away from his face - your thumb brushing over the vibranium. You bring him to your lips and press a kiss on the back of it. You continue to hold him like that, one hand grazing up and down the curve of his back, your other holding the metal on your lap - trying to bring him back as such. 

Bucky turns to look at you, his face knowing. The sight of your sweet features gently lit up in the moonlight, slowly putting his mind at ease.

You meet his downcast gaze, your eyes pooling with empathy. You give him a weak smile before resting the side of your head on his left shoulder, cheek skimming the scars. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask.

He copies your movement, resting his head over yours - the side of his face propped on your crown. "Not yet," he mutters in response, exhaling a steady breath. 

"That's okay," you whisper back, turning to place a kiss on his upper metal arm. "We don't have to right now."

There's a moment of comfortable silence - the only sounds of breathing and the heavy pitter-patter of rain against the window. You continue to hold Bucky, waiting for him to pull away. But he never does.

"Sorry for waking you again,"

"James," you comfort, sweetly cooing at him. "You never have to be sorry for that... I was already awake anyway," you lie - trying to make him feel better. 

You keep a grip on him as you lean back against the mattress, pulling him with you, which he adjusts immediately, cuddling into your side - his arm draping over your middle. You slip your arm under his head and wrap around it, almost like you were cocooning him. Protecting him. Just you cradling his head safely in your arms.

"Thank you," Bucky mutters, his words muffling against your skin as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

Your fingers graze up into the short hairs at the back of his head - nails soothingly scratching his scalp. "Of course," you murmur back, whispering into his forehead.

Both of you stay like that, listening to the night storm, cuddled and huddled under the covers - his hand slowly making its way up to your heart. He rests his palm over the organ, using the faint thumping to ease him back to sleep.

[metize]

Mate (AFAB!Dragonborn x Farkas

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: PWP, In Heat/Mating Cycles, Werewolf Mates, Companions Questline, PIV

Summary:

You were already pent up as it was, but seeing Farkas in nothing but his breeches almost sent you in a frenzy. As you walked into the room, it took everything in you not to bury your face on his pillow, instead you tried arranging his bed while he closed the door to his bed. You could almost see the gears turning inside Farkas’ head, you gathered he was probably smelling your pheromones and trying to understand why you were there. You tried not to stare at his bare chest and how good it would feel to run your hands through his abdomen. “I… I thought I had more time to prepare. Aela told me this would happen, but I…” You sighed, fidgeting with his pillows as you tried to adjust the bedding.

“Are you… nesting on my bed?”

You dropped his pillow. Right, that was what you were doing.

A/N: I didn't find A SINGLE Heat Fic pwp with Farkas. They're werewolves! That's the whole point of being a werewolf: feral sex. Anyways, hope you enjoy it.

Jorrvaskr was asleep. The night had draped its serene embrace over Whiterun, as the weary warriors found solace within their familiar haven. Farkas himself was deep in the realm of dreams, enjoying the peace of his unassuming chamber. Yet, the tranquility was abruptly shattered by a sudden and insistent pounding on his bedroom door. Startled from his slumber, Farkas jolted awake, heart racing in surprise with the sound of pounding on his bedroom’s door.

He was ready to assume the worst, a strategy that worked just fine for Farkas over the years; strike first, think later. He grabbed the greatsword at the end of his bed and readied his stance until he heard your voice from behind the door.

“Farkas, are you up?" Your voice was breathy, a hint of urgency in your tone.

He put his guard down, it was just you, the dragonborn. He respected and greatly admired you as his shield-sister, appreciating your company whenever you came back from your adventures. He trusted you with his life. He stored his sword away before opening the door.

Sure enough he was met to the sight of you as he opened the door. He was always happy to see you, almost forgetting for a second it was the middle of the night and you woke him up because you probably needed something. You weren’t wearing your full armor, instead you sported a more casual outfit that you used to sleep in, the sight was welcome to Farkas. Seeing you in a more vulnerable position was different, he was much more used seeing you armored from head to toe. It brought back memories from the first time you arrived in Jorrvaskr, full of questions, wanderlust and with a very unusual story to tell. Vulnerable in your nightclothes, yes, maybe that was why he was feeling a sudden overprotective urge.

“Shield-sister, it’s late. Did something happen?” He asked, his eyes darting around the hallway to check for any danger. That was when it hit him. The scent.

Your scent.

Farkas and the other Companions had a very strong sense of smell, it was normal for Farkas to recognize someone solely by their scent, but this wasn’t just your usual scent, this was stronger. Sweeter. And way more distracting.

“Close the door, I don't want to wake the others,” you said, making your way past him and sitting on his bed. You were already pent up as it was, but seeing Farkas in nothing but his breeches almost sent you in a frenzy. As you walked into the room, it took everything in you not to bury your face on his pillow, instead you tried arranging his bed while he closed the door to his bed. You could almost see the gears turning inside Farkas’ head, you gathered he was probably smelling your pheromones and trying to understand why you were there. You tried not to stare at his bare chest and how good it would feel to run your hands through his abdomen. “I… I thought I had more time to prepare. Aela told me this would happen, but I…” You sighed, fidgeting with his pillows as you tried to adjust the bedding.

“Are you… nesting on my bed?”

You dropped his pillow. Right, that was what you were doing. You blushed hard, caught off guard. This was your first heat, Aela had warned you about heats and how they worked after you had been turned. You had simply completely forgotten. You couldn’t be blamed, you had a lot to do as Dragonborn and your first heat was supposed to happen later, you were sure you had more time to prepare. You were always planning on talking to Farkas about it.

“I… guess I am,” you admit defeated “Farkas, I’m… going into heat.”

“Then you really,” his breath hitched, a low growl in his voice “really, shouldn’t be in here.” His hand gripped the door handle to ground himself, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

“I’m here for a reason, Farkas,” you said solemnly, you got up and walked towards him. He shot you a glare.

“Don’t come any closer,” his voice was raspy and his commanding tone made you stop in your tracks. “I don’t know how much longer I can control myself with you in this state.” His breath was labored and his gaze was intense.

“Farkas I don’t want you to control yourself,” you looked at him through half-lidded eyes, regaining courage to walk closer and reach for his hand. “I want you to help me…”

As soon as your fingers touched his hand it sent a spark of electricity through you’ve been hit by a Chain Lightning spell. You didn’t even get to hold his hand, he grabbed your wrist and pulled your body flush against his. He leaned down burying his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in as much of your scent as he could. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief at his proximity, at the sheer intimacy. You grabbed onto him like a lifeline, your instincts slowly taking over your mind, the wolf inside you screaming for more.

“Please… Farkas…” You muttered under your breath.

Farkas pulled you up by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He dropped you on the bed, oddly enough the little organizing you managed to do added so much to your comfort level. Farkas was on top of you, his mouth was hungry for yours and you were all too happy to oblige, you kissed him back, running your fingers through his long hair.

“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he admitted through gritted teeth, his hands undoing your blouse and groping your breasts.

“You don’t have to be…” You reassured him, his mouth was on your neck now marking you with his teeth as he pinched your nipples. You moaned in pleasure but with a hint of impatience, you squirmed under him pushing your hips up to feel some friction. “Please, please, I need you inside.”

He grunted before gripping your waist and forcing your hips down.

“It’s your first heat. I don’t wish to hurt you.” “I can take it, Farkas, please, my mate, I need you, need your cock,” you begged, your instincts completely overwhelming you with need. Farkas froze at your words before eagerly undressing the both of you in a rush.

You whined each time his hands left your skin, you felt feverish and aching with need. You were already soaked when Farkas pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, he looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust. You didn’t trust your voice to beg him again, so you tried to give him a pleading look hoping to get him to have mercy on you and give you what you were craving.

A broken moan left your mouth as he entered you with his length, Farkas seemed to be losing control, as you hoped, his patience and kindness giving place to his feral instincts to take and breed. He was fully in, save for his knot, when he started moving his hips fast and deep.

Your whines and moans were loud, you couldn’t help it, his tip was hitting deep into you and your body programmed itself to feel nothing but pleasure at this time. Your mind was completely gone, solely focusing on Farkas’ cock slamming into you with force and speed.

“Mine, mine, mine…” Farkas kept repeating and his words only brought you closer to climax, giving yourself completely to your mate to be owned and used to his content was embarrassingly arousing. “My mate… You look so beautiful, so needy for me, for my knot, you want me to stuff you full, hm?” You nodded rapidly, trying to let him know how eager you were without depending on your words, since you weren’t sure you could even string a sentence together. But that wasn’t enough for him, he pulled at your hair and growled into your ear. “Say it, say what you want.”

You whined, the sting in your scalp only fueling your pleasure, you looked up at him with an imploring look. “Farkas please, I want y-you to breed me please…”

He grunted, his pace steady as he looked into your eyes. “Do you? Then why did you wait so long to seek me?” He punctuated his phrases with deeper thrusts, making you cry out as he hit your deepest and sweetest spot. “Why parade around Jorrvaskr smelling this sweet and ripe for the taking? Were you hoping just any Companion would take you out in the hallway?” His voice was aggressive, possessive and it turned you on so much. “Skjor? My brother?”

You shook your head. “N-Never! Just you, I’m yours Farkas… Please!”

“Cum for me.” He growled and picked up the pace. You do. You saw stars when he reached deep inside you, the warmth of his body against yours and his teeth biting down your neck. Farkas wasn’t too far behind himself, his pace getting erratic and you could feel yourself yearn for his knot. “I’ll cum deep inside of you, my mate. Is that what you want?”

“Please… I need it, please, please…” You begged pulling him into another kiss.

His mouth devoured yours as he pounded you into the mattress, his own beast ordering him to breed you, to take you, to claim you. He thrust one last time into you, his knot plopping into you, locking you together as he buried his seed deep inside your pussy. He moaned against your ear, tugging your hair as you felt his breath on your skin.

You held each other for a second, catching your breath and letting the afterglow warm your heart. Farkas placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your hair.

“I’ll take care of you, however many times you may need it, my mate,” he said, voice low and earnest. You hummed contently and nodded.

“Can we go once more?” You said and he chuckled.

“However many times you need it.” He repeated.

[sollucets]

I saw you asking for touch prompts and okay. Imagine. Aye having a nightmare + touch prompt 5 and 28. Maybe? If you want to write a little something!

hi nonny :')! i made a little post about it right after getting this ask, but i've written something that i'd consider to be close to the more obvious interpretation of this prompt already, in on our way up ch5, so i did take this a little to the left of that, but i think it still suits

5 (feeling their pulse) + 28 (reaching for each other in the dark) from this list for my lil event; around 700 words of soft/sad/sleepy akkaye, rated t for trauma nightmares :')

💜

Akk wakes abruptly in the middle of the night. His room is pitch-black, the soft sound of the waves the only thing he can hear, and — 

He reaches out to the other side of the bed, blindly, fingers searching for a body that should be there, and finds nothing. 

Blearily, Akk gets up, throws a sheet over his bare shoulders, and goes out the door. His room is separate entirely from the rest of the house, and if he were going there he’d need to wear real clothes to cross part of the beach. But he isn’t, because as he’d expected, he finds Aye sitting on the steps, hands hooked around his knees, looking tiny in one of Akk’s sleep shirts. 

Carefully in deference to his own half-awake state, Akk descends the couple stairs to his boyfriend then drops heavily down next to him. Aye, who apparently had headphones in, startles and turns to look at him with wide eyes. 

Akk frowns at him, still barely awake enough for words.

“What are you doing up?” Aye asks quietly, pulling one headphone out. He has prominently visible eyebags.

“You’re gone,” mumbles Akk.  

Aye’s expression does something funny, maybe a little wistful and maybe a little achingly fond, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I— had a nightmare. I didn't want to wake you."

“Yeah,” says Akk, who’d also expected that. He frees a hand from its sheet cage to take one of Aye’s. “Okay now?” 

Aye looks down at their hands, gently running his thumb back and forth over Akk’s skin, and doesn’t answer. 

It’s fair. If it was all okay, Aye would be back inside where he’s supposed to be already. Akk leans their shoulders together and tries to think. 

They’re on break, school out after term exams for a little while. Aye has been visiting Akk’s parents, coming out on the boats with them and trying his best to help with the catch and holding Akk’s hand in public. It’s good, it’s easy, it’s — impossible, he thinks sometimes. Like there should be a catch to being so happy. Like there should be a punishment.

Only for him, though. Never for Aye, not like this. This is the second nightmare this week; the first time only Akk had woken, laying silent in bed and watching Aye toss and turn and call alternately for Akk and for someone who’d never hear him. From looking it up, Akk knew better than to wake him if he didn’t have to; all he could do was inch close enough to hold him, careful and soft, and try not to cry. 

When Aye hadn't seemed to remember in the morning, he hadn't said anything. He hadn’t wanted Aye to feel bad about it, or like he was ruining their vacation. But maybe he really should’ve, because it looks like that happened anyway. He should’ve said something so Aye could know it was fine, that Akk is fine with it, that he’ll carry this without complaint. 

None of that has any path to make it out of his mouth here in the dark, sleep fogging his brain and his throat, so Akk just holds his hand tighter and says, “Don’t leave unless you want to, next time."

“Next time,” repeats Aye, bitterly, then sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry.” 

Aye feels a little colder than he should be against him. Akk untangles their hands long enough to drape the sheet over both of them, then scoots down enough on the step to put his head on Aye’s shoulder and holds out his hand palm-up between them. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, warm and held and sleepy again. “Be my pillow.” 

Snorting, Aye leans into him, letting their heads rest together. “Spoiled,” he murmurs, tired and warm. “You missed me that much?” 

Normally, this is the kind of thing Akk has to deny as part of their forever game of chase, but he can’t remember why that’s important right now, so he just says, “Yes.” 

“Baby,” says Aye with a near-silent laugh and takes his hand back, grip warm. “It’s okay. I missed you too.” 

They go silent. Akk closes his eyes. Faintly, he feels Aye’s thumb running over his pulse point, in time with a rhythm he can hear thudding in his own ears. He wonders if it was him who died in Aye’s dreams this time, resents himself for haunting them, hopes it’s enough to sit together and love him and weather it. 

He holds on. It seems like it could be. It seems like it will be.

[bradshawsbaby]

Always By Your Side

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: I’ve been meaning to write this one for a while! I wrote I’m Here about Rooster comforting his wife after she has a nightmare, so this is a counterpart of Mrs. Bradshaw comforting Bradley when he has a nightmare.

Warnings: Nightmare, mentions of death and a near-death experience, angst/comfort, and warm fluff.

Bradley had a habit of being a bit of a restless sleeper, so it never came as quite a surprise to you when he shifted, nudged, and even kicked in the middle of the night. You’d become quite adept at sleeping peacefully beside your husband, even on his most fidgety nights. The one time you’d woken up in the morning with a bruise on your thigh, evidently garnered from an ill-placed kick, you’d laughed it off, impressed that you had no recollection of it even happening. Bradley, however, had felt so guilty about it that he’d smothered the bruise in kisses every night until it finally faded away to nothingness.

At this point in your relationship, your husband’s fitfulness wasn’t enough to wake you up out of a dead sleep. But his soft whimpers were.

“No, no, please.”

You could hear Bradley’s voice close to your ear, though a second later, his arm slipped from around your waist as he unconsciously shifted in bed, rolling away from you.

“Oh, God, please, no,” he mumbled, his voice sounding terrified and grief-stricken all at once.

You were wide awake now. Sitting up in bed, you carefully turned on the lamp on your nightstand, a soft glow chasing the shadows on the walls of your darkened bedroom into the corners of the room. Brushing your hair out of your face, you looked down at your husband and were instantly grieved at the sight before you.

He was having a nightmare.

You’d seen enough of Bradley’s nightmares to know what they looked like. He was rolling back and forth in bed, the blankets getting tangled around his legs as he panted softly under his breath. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted slightly. You knew if you checked his pulse, it would be beating erratically. He was obviously deep in the throes of whatever bad dream was plaguing him, because his face was screwed up in misery, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw occasionally clenching and unclenching.

Biting your lip, you mentally debated what to do. Sometimes Bradley shook himself out of these nightmares, waking with a start and shooting up in bed. He’d usually apologize to you in those instances, ashamed to be seen in such a wholly vulnerable state. You always reminded him that he had nothing to be sorry for, but you knew he still hated it. Other times, when the sound of his torment became too much for your heart to bear, you woke him up, helping him to overcome his disorientation and reminding him of where he was.

Looking at him now, you weren’t sure which was the best course of action.

“No, no, no!” Bradley moaned, sounding near tears.

That was it. You couldn’t let him suffer for another minute.

“Bradley,” you whispered in a soothing voice, reaching out and gently shaking his shoulder. “Bradley, baby, it’s me. Wake up, honey. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up,” you coaxed, shaking a little bit harder when it seemed your initial touch wasn’t enough. It was always a careful balance. You wanted to get him up without startling him or unnerving him further.

Bradley froze momentarily, but still didn’t wake up. After a tense moment of complete silence, he went back to mumbling incoherently, still looking deeply distressed.

“Bradley, wake up,” you said, a little bit louder this time. You reached over and grabbed his other shoulder, shaking both of them now.

“Wait! Don’t! No!” Bradley gasped, his eyes suddenly flying open as he sat up abruptly, nearly bumping his head against yours in the process. “What? Where?” he panted in confusion, looking around the room for a minute. It seemed to take a few seconds for his brain to process that he was safe, that he was in your bedroom, sitting beside you.

“Oh, baby,” you murmured tenderly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back with a firm hand. “Baby, you’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re home.” You’d found that whenever Bradley woke from one of these nightmares, it always helped when you grounded him in reality, reminding him where he was, that he was alright and that you were right there with him.

Releasing a ragged breath and running a shaky hand through his hair, Bradley turned to look at you, not saying anything at first. He just took you into his arms, holding on as if for dear life and burying his face in your neck. After a minute or two of silently breathing in the scent of your skin, his shoulders slowly started to relax, the tension filtering out of his body bit by bit.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” you assured him softly, pressing loving kisses to his temple and rubbing his back in slow strokes.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his arms still wrapped firmly around your waist, he looked calmer, but still troubled from whatever nightmare had been disturbing his sleep.

“Tell me what happened,” you encouraged him, reaching up to lightly caress his cheek. He didn’t always like to talk about his bad dreams, but he’d admitted in the past that it always made him feel better when he did.

“It was the mission. The one they called me back to TOPGUN for. The one with Mav and the others,” he began slowly, his voice a bit raspy from tiredness and the strain of his nightmare.

His nightmares were often related to that mission, the one he’d been sent on before the two of you had met. Since you were a civilian and it was a classified military operation, there was only so much you knew about it, but Bradley had revealed enough over time. You knew he’d nearly died. Him and Mav both. It still sent a chill down your spine to think about it.

“I can’t even imagine, honey,” you whispered, stroking his hair with gentle fingers. “What you went through—what almost happened. I would have nightmares, too.”

“If I had let them convince me to return to the carrier. If I had gotten there just a second later. He would have...he would have—” Bradley shook his head, unable to even complete his thought.

“I know. I know,” you nodded, holding him closer. You didn’t need him to elaborate. You knew he was talking about Maverick. Though you didn’t know all the details of what had happened, you knew that both Mav and Bradley had saved each other’s lives that day, and that there had been more than one close call during that mission.

Bradley shook his head again, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the beat of it reverberating against your skin. The nightmare must have been really bad this time. He was still deeply unnerved, still trembling slightly.

“I’m going to show you something,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead when he lifted his head to look at you. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” you added, pushing the covers back to slip out of bed. You hurried to the living room of your apartment, then raced back a moment later, crawling back into bed with a framed photograph in your hand.

“See this? Remember this?” you asked, your voice soothing and comforting. “You and Mav both made it home that day. You’re both safe. You’re both alive. You’re here, baby,” you told him, pressing the photograph into his hand.

Bradley stared down at it, the smallest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was the picture someone had snapped on the carrier right after he and Mav had landed safely. They were laughing and holding onto one another, celebrating the amazing fortune of being alive. You knew for a fact that Mav had a copy of the picture as well, and that he kept it tucked safely right beside a photograph of him and Bradley’s father.

“Okay, baby?” you murmured, massaging the nape of his neck. You rested your other hand over his where it was clutching onto the frame.

Bradley nodded slowly, but there were tears burning the backs of his eyes and his throat was convulsing as he swallowed several times. You could tell there was something else weighing on him.

“Honey, what is it?” you asked, your heart breaking for him. You loved him so much and you hated to see him in any kind of pain. You gently took the picture out of his hands and laid it on your nightstand, shifting so that you could wrap your arms around him once more. “Talk to me, baby.”

“It’s nothing,” Bradley sighed, shaking his head and working very hard to get control of his emotions. “It’s just—sometimes, when I dream about the mission, it kind of…changes. Things shift.” He bit down hard on his lower lip, taking your hand in his and squeezing.

“What do you mean?” you questioned carefully, not wanting to push him. Whatever it was, it obviously caused him a great deal of pain.

“It stops being the mission,” Bradley explained quietly after a moment’s pause. “I’m not there anymore. But I am, you know? Except that doesn’t make any sense because I wasn’t there. I was too young. I—”

“Bradley, honey, you weren’t where?” you asked, trying to make sense of what he was struggling to tell you. “You were too young for what?”

“To be there the day my dad died,” Bradley told you, his voice heavy as his head dropped.

You felt chills all over your body at his admission.

“Somehow it stops being me in the jet with Mav. It’s my dad instead, and I want so badly to save him and I’m trying to save him and I can’t save him.” Bradley’s voice was becoming more frenzied now, more panicked. “I can’t save him. Why can’t I save him?”

“Oh, honey,” you cried softly, tears pricking your own eyes at your husband’s words. What a horribly heavy burden to have to carry, even in your dreams. “Oh, honey,” you said again, taking him into your arms and holding him tightly.

“Why can’t I save him?” Bradley cried, burying his face in your neck. You could feel his tears soaking your skin and the front of your shirt.

“Baby,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. “You were just a little boy. You were only two years old, honey. You couldn’t—you couldn’t have saved him.”

Bradley shuddered slightly at your words, still clinging to you desperately.

“Your dad—even though I never got to meet him, baby, I feel like I know him through you. Through you and Mav. And I know he wouldn’t want you to ever feel like it was your responsibility to save him. Not even in your dreams. He wouldn’t,” you insisted, brushing the tears from your husband’s cheeks when he lifted his head from your shoulder. “He loved you too much for that. He still loves you. He’s still watching over you, baby. And you know what? He was in that jet that day. He was. He was with you and Mav. He was protecting you. He saved you. He’s always by your side, honey. Always.”

Bradley was quiet for a few minutes, resting in your arms as you tenderly caressed his face and back. Without a word, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it, his lips lingering for a moment. You could feel that his cheek was still wet.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse from the unshed tears still clogging his throat. He looked at you, his eyes brimming with love despite the grief and the pain that were also flashing in those brown depths. “I think I’m going to sit up for a little while. You go back to sleep. It’s late,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him firmly, slipping your hand into his and lacing your fingers together.

Bradley smiled a little bit at that, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Stubborn as always, that’s my girl,” he murmured, kissing you softly.

“Yes, it is,” you smiled back, brushing your fingers across his scarred cheek. “Do you want me to make you something? A cup of tea? Something to eat?” Even though it was late, you knew he sometimes liked to indulge in some late-night snacks.

“I think I just want to sit in the bath for a little bit,” Bradley told you, rubbing your thigh gently. The two of you both found that to be a relaxing way to unwind when you were feeling stressed or unsettled.

“Okay,” you nodded, pecking him on the lips. “I’ll go run the water for you.”

“You don’t have to, baby, really. It’s late. You should get some rest,” Bradley insisted, patting your pillow.

“I’ll sleep in tomorrow,” you teased, climbing out of bed and walking off to the bathroom. You ran the water nice and hot, the way Bradley liked it, the bathroom soon steaming up. You then dropped a couple of your lavender bath salts into the water, figuring that might help him get back to sleep.

“You spoil me too much,” Bradley smiled when he walked into the bathroom a moment later, pulling you towards him so that he could kiss you deeply before he pulled back and stripped off the T-shirt and sweatpants he’d been wearing to bed. He lowered himself into the water with a satisfied sigh, his head falling back as the tension oozed out of his shoulders. Seconds later, he reached out to grab your hand, his fingers closing gently around yours. “You’ll stay, right?”

“Oh, don’t want me to go back to sleep now?” you teased affectionately, a playful twinkle in your eye. Lifting his hand up to your lips, you kissed his calloused knuckles and nodded. “Of course I’ll stay.” Sitting down on the ledge of the bathtub, you rested your hands on his shoulders and slowly began to massage his upper back.

Bradley let out a sigh of approval, his eyes closing as your thumbs kneaded the knots in his back. It was moments like these that reminded you of the fact that though your husband was playful and tender and loving with you, he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders in so many ways. He shouldered so many burdens, even burdens that weren’t his to carry. And that took its toll, both physically and mentally.

Running your hands over his shoulders and down his chest, you leaned forward and rested your cheek against his, your lips pressed close to his ear. “You carry too much, baby. You have to let me carry some of it, too,” you whispered.

Bradley didn’t ask what you meant. He didn’t need to. He just reached up and laced his fingers through yours, resting his head back against your shoulder. “What did I ever do to deserve you, huh?” he asked, his voice thick with tenderness.

“You didn't have to do anything,” you replied, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I don’t know anyone more deserving of love than you, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Bradley lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your palm. “You know what you said before, baby? About my dad always being by my side?”

“Mhm,” you murmured softly, tracing tiny circles on his chest. “Your mom, too.”

“I know they are,” Bradley nodded, turning his head so that he was gazing up at you. “I know they are because they sent me you. They sent me you to be by my side forever,” he said, his eyes filled with an adoration that warmed you to your very core.

“Forever,” you nodded, tears glistening in your eyes as you lowered your head to kiss him.

His parents would always be with him. And so would you.

[sevenseasofbangtan]

STRAY KIDS REACTION — YOUR FIRST KISS

Summary: Stray Kids (unexpectedly) share their first kiss with reader

Warnings: Mentions of food, unhealthy habits, insecurities, sadness, fighting and minor surgical procedure

Genre(s): Mostly fluff, slight angst

Note: I have finally returned with some more writing content and hope to be able to write more soon. I apologize for the uneven length of each scenario, I tried to write equally for each member, but some scenarios were a bit longer than expected. I tried to keep the scenarios gender neutral but in some of them I did use the pronouns she/her. I hope you all enjoy reading this and I just want to remind you that requests are open. Don’t forget to read the rules before requesting!

BANG CHAN

It was getting late at night, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. You wanted to believe he was on his way home, but deep down you knew he was most likely still at the studio, overworking himself until he couldn’t stay awake anymore and inevitably fell asleep, having finally won his daily battle against insomnia.

You looked at your phone, which clearly displayed the current time: 2:04. With a sigh, you got out of bed, put on one of your boyfriend’s warm hoodies, grabbed your keys and headed towards his workplace. The drive was lonely and quiet, but you soon enough reached the familiar building, already knowing the way to his studio by heart.

You reached your destination and quietly opened the door, as to not startle him or wake him up. Your heart sank at the view in front of you. There were sheets of paper scattered everywhere across his desk and on the floor, empty cups of coffee a bit all over the place, and some half eaten takeout that was most likely cold by now, which hinted at your boyfriend’s unhealthy habits.

Amidst the messy studio was the desk where he placed his computer and the chair in which he sat to work, which was visibly still occupied. You briefly smiled as you heard soft snores coming from your boyfriend, his head resting against the headrest of the chair.

You walked the few final steps that led you to Chan, still careful not to wake him up just yet. You wanted to wake him up softly, since he probably thought he was alone in the room, and would most likely be scared if you woke him up abruptly. You leaned in, planning on kissing his cheek, but as you got closer, your hair tickled his cheek. Chan was definitely a light sleeper, and immediately woke up at the feeling of your hair and warm breath on his skin, turning around to figure out who could possibly be in the studio in the middle of the night. His head turning caused your lips to land right on his.

You pulled away in a panic, blurting out a bunch of inaudible excuses to your boyfriend, who broke out into a loving smile, chuckling and assuring you he was fine. Your heart was speeding up and your mind was racing despite Chan’s reassurance. He knew what you were thinking without you having to say anything, and before you could beat yourself up any further, he placed his hand behind your head and pulled you towards him, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

“This is the best way of waking up!”

LEE MINHO (LEE KNOW)

You had undergone an outpatient dental surgery and your boyfriend, Minho, was the one who brought you in and the one who would bring you back home and take care of you after the procedure.

After having been left on his own for around ninety minutes in the dental clinic’s waiting room, a dental hygienist finally came to get him. Before opening the door to the room you were in, she warned him, “(Y/N) has been injected with midazolam, a powerful benzodiazepine that prevents anxiety and pain during surgery. A common side effect of the medication is losing touch with reality, as well as confusion. Don’t worry though, the effects will only last for a maximum of two hours, and (Y/N) should be back to normal in no time.” She also handed him several sheets of paper containing the strict protocol you had to follow for the next few days, as well as a prescription for pain relief and a mouthwash, before guiding him into the room.

As soon as you saw your boyfriend, your eyes lit up and you loudly said, “Minhooooo! I’ve missed youuuu! Look what they did to my mouth!” You opened your mouth, but the dental hygienist urged you to close it, much to Minho’s relief. Gently greeting you, he took ahold of your hand and slowly guided you to the car so you could head back home to rest.

Although the clinic was only fifteen minutes from your shared apartment, the ride had left Minho completely exhausted. You kept moving, yelling and had tried to take out the gauzes in your mouth about five times. He had to constantly keep a strong grip on your wrist, scared that if he were to let you go, you would run off god knows where to pull god knows what kind of dumb stunt.

Once he had gotten you safely inside the apartment, Minho had the difficult task of getting you to lay down on the couch so he could go and get you an ice pack to help reduce the swelling in your face. When he came back in the living area, he was relieved to see you still sitting on the couch. However, his relief was soon replaced with panic as he saw you yet again pulling at the gauzes inside your mouth in an attempt to remove them.

“(Y/N)! No! Stop touching that!” he ordered, nearly running towards you. You froze in the position you were in, your mouth wide open and the gauzes hanging halfway out of your mouth. If he hadn’t been so worried, Minho would have definitely laughed at the sight. He gestured for you to push the gauzes back into your mouth, which you did.

As he was grabbing a cozy blanket to wrap you in, you called Minho and spoke, “It hurts.” Minho cooed as you whined about your teeth, “It’s okay baby, just put the ice pack on your cheek like I showed you.” Shaking your head, you replied, “No! It’s cold. Can you kiss it better instead?”

So that’s what you wanted all along: a kiss. Minho rolled his eyes in fake annoyance, joining you on the couch. Tightly wrapping you in the blanket to keep you warm and prevent you from escaping from his hold, he then leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, careful not to cause any harm to your sensitive mouth. You immediately surrendered to his attempts at getting you to rest and snuggled into his side, content with having finally gotten what you wanted.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep as a result of the strain the surgery and the medication had put on your body. You probably wouldn’t remember the kiss when you’d wake up, but Minho definitely would, and he’d remind you about it anytime he could.

SEO CHANGBIN

It had all started with your first fight. You had both said hurtful things that you didn’t mean, which had resulted in you walking out to clear your head and get away from your boyfriend.

You were holding back tears as you walked across couples sharing umbrellas and casually holding hands along the sidewalk, wondering if you were ever going to experience it again with your boyfriend after what had been said. Deep down, you knew you were overthinking, and that you were most likely to apologize and move on soon enough, but as of now, your judgement was clouded with sadness and doubt.

Did he really mean the things he said about you?

Did he believe the things you said out of spite?

Would you ever forgive each other for going too far?

In the meantime, Changbin was left alone at your shared apartment, having plenty of time to reflect on the conflict. He felt the guilt eating away at his insides for the words that left his mouth only minutes ago. He knew you’d likely remember all of them for years to come, even if you told him you didn’t. He wanted to take it all back, but knew life didn’t work that way, and so he’d have to make it up to you somehow if he didn’t want to lose you. He had to make it clear to you that he didn’t mean anything he had said when angry. Most of the things he said were a reflection of his own insecurities in your relationship.

Having had more than enough time to go through the previous events multiple times, Changbin finally noticed how much time had gone by since you’d last been in the apartment. He couldn’t help feeling worried that you’d decided to leave him for good, or worse, that something bad had happened to you before he even got to say how sorry he was, while he wasn’t there to protect you from all the evil the world has to offer.

As you finally walked back into your apartment with clearer thoughts, you were greeted with a concerned Changbin walking in circles. As soon as he noticed you, he ran up to you without hesitation. There was so much he wanted to say to you at once, yet the only thing he managed to do was to grab your face with both hands and smash his lips against yours in an emotional kiss.

Pulling away, he let go of your face, taking ahold of your hands instead, before speaking, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

HWANG HYUNJIN

To say you were nervous was an understatement. It wasn’t your first date, but you had yet to have your first kiss, saving it for someone special, whom you trusted. So far, you had managed to avoid any situation that could’ve led to a kiss, but it always made going on a date much more stressful.

You had asked your best friend, Hyunjin, to come over to help you get ready for your date. This time, you truly felt you had found the right guy. You had already been on a few dates with him. It had clicked from the very beginning, and only progressed in a positive way with each successive date. Yet, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling that followed you around throughout the day at the thought of having your first kiss.

Seeing as you were once again staring into space, lost in your thoughts, Hyunjin sighed, calling your name: “(Y/N)? Are you alright?” A bit startled by his sudden intervention, you nodded, shooting him a quick smile before turning back towards the mirror to continue inspecting the outfit Hyunjin had carefully helped you choose.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know…” Hyunjin stated. Slightly offended, you retorted, “I’m not. I promise I’m fine.” “Then why are you constantly biting the inside of your cheek and staring off in the distance?” he inquired, a skeptical look etched on his handsome face. “It’s nothing. Anyways, you’re gonna laugh if I tell you,” you commented, slightly annoyed by your best friend’s nagging. “Who said I was going to laugh? If it’s bothering you, it isn’t anything worth laughing about,” Hyunjin argued.

“Fine. I’ve never kissed anyone and tonight might be the night where it happens and I’m completely unprepared. I don’t want him to think I’m a bad kisser,” you confessed, looking down to avoid your friend’s gaze. “I could teach you,” Hyunjin suggested, more as a joke to lighten your mood. The last thing he expected was for you to nod your head, saying, “Y—You would?” You had caught him off guard, but he soon regained some composure and replied, “Sure. I mean… Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this, Jinnie,” you pointed out. Hyunjin smiled at the sound of the nickname you had given him and answered, “Don’t worry, I don’t mind.” He quickly added, “Anything to get my best friend out of trouble,” which made you smile in return.

He carefully approached you, which unconsciously made your heart race. Standing right in front of you and blocking off your view of the mirror, he said, “I’m gonna pretend to be him. Just let me initiate the whole thing, okay?” You quietly nodded, staring at his lips as he spoke. While he seemed completely confident, Hyunjin was actually terrified. He had been wanting to do that for so long, yet it felt entirely wrong.

He hesitantly cupped your cheek with one of his hands, delicately placing the other on your waist, and slowly leaned in. You instinctively closed your eyes, anticipating the feeling of his lips on yours. Once you felt it, you completely froze, unable to move a single muscle. Pulling away, Hyunjin sighed yet again, claiming, “I can’t do ALL the job. You shouldn’t stay still the whole time. You need to move your lips, you know?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, ashamed of your reaction. “Sorry,” you muttered, almost inaudibly. “Don’t be. It’s okay, we can try again,” Hyunjin reassured you. Before doing anything else, he advised, “Just follow my lips’ movements. You’ll be alright.”

With that, he once again leaned in and placed his lips on yours. This time, however, you reacted and followed his lead. His lips were soft and warm, and he had a nice floral smell that made you forget how nervous you were. Although the kiss seemed to drag on for minutes, it only lasted a few seconds, and you were surprised when Hyunjin pulled away, almost disappointed that it was already over.

Suddenly, you were hit with the realization that you had just had your first kiss. All this time you had been stressing about having the perfect first kiss with your date, just to end up sharing it with your best friend. You weren’t disappointed, though. In fact, it felt incredibly right.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Hyunjin speaking, “Not bad for someone who’s never kissed anyone before.” Chuckling, you thanked your friend for his help, before claiming you had to go back to getting ready or you’d be late to your date.

Although that date went perfectly well and you did kiss the boy at the end of the night, you ended things with him a few weeks later. You knew he wasn’t the one for you. And although it took a while for you to admit it to yourself, the one boy you actually wanted was the one you shared your first kiss with.

HAN JISUNG

You usually weren’t a crier. Especially not in front of other people. Yet, here you were, standing in the middle of your living room, with tears streaming down your face.

It had been an awful day from the very beginning, and you had managed to keep your composure throughout everything, fighting the urge to curl into a ball under a blanket and cry. That was until you accidentally knocked over a glass filled with water on the floor, watching all of its content spill around. The incident seemed to flick a switch in your mind, causing you to burst into tears while staring at the empty glass on the floor.

Unsuspecting, your boyfriend, Jisung, had decided to come to your apartment uninvited, knowing your schedule by heart. The last thing he expected when he opened the door with the keys you had provided him with was to see you all red faced, your skin glistening with the tears that continuously glided down your cheeks.

Immediately dropping the multiple bags he had brought along with him, Jisung ran to your side, asking you what was wrong. You were overwhelmed by everything going on and couldn’t get a word out of your mouth. You felt ridiculous thinking about having to explain to your boyfriend how a simple water spill caused such a crisis, so you kept quiet.

Jisung quickly understood that you weren’t quite ready to speak just yet and simply guided you towards the nearest couch, helping you sit down. His eyes scanned his surroundings looking for a box of tissues, which he offered to you as soon as he got a hold of it. While you dried your eyes, your boyfriend looked for something to keep the both of you warm as you sat together on the couch, settling on a cozy blanket that was lying at the bottom of another couch.

He sat back down next to you, securely draping the blanket over your shoulders and his, as to enhance his warm embrace. “Take all the time you need, baby. I’m right here,” he uttered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You were moved by his tenderness, which brought a fresh wave of tears dripping down your cheeks.

It had been nearly ten minutes and your cries didn’t seem to be dying down anytime soon. Jisung, although patient, was growing worried that you wouldn’t ever stop crying. He had to think of a way to stop your cries. It had to be something that would shock you enough to make you forget about whatever made you sad in the first place. Then it hit him.

He gently lifted your chin up with his finger to get you to look at him, and before you had the chance to react or question him, he firmly pressed his lips against yours for a few seconds. Soon enough, your breathing evened and your cries quieted down. You were left dumbfounded, staring with wide eyes at your boyfriend, who couldn’t help giggling as he recalled what had just happened. “I’m sorry, I just panicked. You wouldn’t stop crying and I didn’t know what else to do to get you to stop and calm down,” he claimed.

You faintly smiled at him, before asking, “Can you do it again? It does work to calm me down.” Mirroring your smile, he enthusiastically nodded, eagerly leaning down to close the distance between your lips, this time savouring the intimacy of the act.

Pulling away, he spoke, “Now, will you tell me what made you break down like that?”

“Before I do, I need you to know that it was not ONLY caused by a spilled glass of water, I swear!”

FELIX LEE

You and your boyfriend were both enjoying one of his rare days off by trying out some baking recipes Felix had recently come across while scrolling through social medias. It was one of your go-to couple activities, as it allowed you to spend some alone time together, have some great conversations and end up with (mostly) delicious food as a result.

It was the end of the summer, when the sweetest berries would grow in the fields, so you opted for a raspberry flavoured cake. Needless to say, the cake was an absolute success, which you ended up sharing with your boyfriend’s group mates.

You were left with an excess amount of raspberries and couldn’t let them go to waste. You came up with the idea of using the leftover berries to make a sweet coulis you could pour on some refreshing ice cream, to which Felix immediately agreed.

You had poured the necessary ingredients into the blender and were ready to begin mixing. You pressed on the start button and gasped as the lid, which seemingly wasn’t properly secured, jumped up, and the half blended raspberries began flying out of the machine, landing everywhere in the kitchen, including on both your faces. You scrambled with your eyes closed to find the stop button and finally managed to turn the blender off after a few seconds.

As you wiped your eyes as best as you could, you took in the mess that stood in front of you. You were soon cut off with your boyfriend’s hysterical laughter that had him bending on himself and trying to catch his breath. “You should’ve seen the face you made when the mix flew out of the blender!” he exclaimed in between fits of giggles. You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped your lips as you noticed his own messy face.

Felix stepped closer towards you, using his hand to delicately wipe some of the fruit off your face. He suddenly noticed the redness on your lips and shyly spoke, “You have some on your lips.” Before you could answer anything, he closed the gap between both of your faces and gently pressed his lips against yours, taking in the taste of the sugary berries that covered your skin.

He pulled away after a few seconds, feeling his cheeks burning up. He couldn’t look you in the eyes, afraid that he messed up, or that you didn’t enjoy the kiss as much as he did. “You look like a raspberry now,” was the only thing you could think of saying as you looked at his reddened skin, resulting in the both of you breaking down into yet another fit of laughter.

“You still look good, even as a raspberry,” you quickly added, causing your boyfriend’s blush to deepen. “You look adorable too, even covered in sticky fruit sauce,” he replied, still euphoric from the kiss you just shared. He couldn’t help admiring you: the glow on your face from the raspberries, the innocent smile on your lips, and the stars in your eyes added up to everything he already loved about you.

Felix then turned around to grab a wet rag, throwing it your way as he claimed, “Come on, now we need to clean the whole kitchen up before anyone comes back, or else they’re gonna kill us!” You nodded and began wiping the walls, before he added, “Although I’d definitely prefer continuing to kiss you instead.” And it was now your turn to blush.

As you turned back towards the wall, Felix rapidly took out his phone, snapping a picture of you amongst the messy kitchen, not only to show his friends and to laugh about it later, but also to remind him of the precious memory of the first kiss you two shared.

KIM SEUNGMIN

You had been helping the boys set up their dorms for Christmas for a few hours. You were currently working on the tree, hanging up countless mismatched decorations that the boys insisted you used for their sentimental value. You had also planned to bake gingerbread cookies with Felix that everyone could decorate later, when putting up decorations would be too much of a physical effort.

You were attempting to have a conversation with Seungmin and Felix while music loudly played throughout the room. As Felix was excitedly reminiscing about something that happened on Christmas Day back in Australia, you realized you had lost sight of the tree topper.

As you voiced your concern, Seungmin replied that he had left it in the storage room, in an attempt to avoid his clumsy friends from dropping and breaking it. He suggested you followed him there, as he had to go and grab an extra box of ribbons in that same room. You nodded and followed his lead, quickly finding what you were looking for and heading back towards the living area, where the tree stood.

You had barely taken a few steps out of the storage room when you heard muffled snorts and giggles. Narrowing your eyes and turning around, you noticed Minho, Felix and Jeongin’s eyes on both you and Seungmin. Rolling his eyes, Seungmin spoke, “What’s going on with you weirdos? Don’t you have anything better to do then to follow us around the dorm?”

Wordlessly, Jeongin pointed over your heads before he burst into yet another fit of laughter. You both looked up, and let out a groan as you spotted the mistletoe hanging above your heads. “Come on you guys, it’s the rule!” Minho claimed.

You suddenly felt a lump in your throat at the thought of kissing Seungmin. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it. In fact, you had been looking forward to this moment for so long. The thing was that you envisioned this special moment going much differently. You had never kissed anyone before, and definitely did not plan on first doing it in front of your boyfriend’s best friends.

Sensing your uneasiness, Seungmin delicately held your hand before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. Shaking his head in dissatisfaction, Minho complained, “Aw, come on! You can do better than that, Seungmin!”

“It’s not as though we’re asking you to do something you’ve never done before,” Felix teasingly added.

“It is, though,” Seungmin answered honestly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. The boys were left speechless, but Minho was quick to cheer, “That’s even better! We get to see your first kiss!” The other boys joined in on his excitement and insisted that you followed through with the tradition.

Sighing as he knew they wouldn’t let it go until they got what they wanted, Seungmin turned to look at you, as though he was silently asking for your consent. You eventually shrugged, allowing Seungmin to lean closer until your lips met. You were first frozen in place, but slowly relaxed into the kiss, focusing on Seungmin’s reassuring presence.

You were brought back to reality by your spectators clapping and cheering, as you looked down, feeling your cheeks heat up. You stared at Seungmin’s hand, that was still holding yours, smiling to yourself, while your boyfriend was trying to calm his friends down and get them to leave you alone.

YANG JEONGIN (I.N)

You had started dating Jeongin a few months back and you had yet to share your first kiss, the two of you not being too strong on physical displays of affection. Sure, you did enjoy the occasional snuggles before going to sleep and the subtle hand holding as you went about with your day, but kissing was a big step you weren’t ready for just yet. Until today.

The boys were nearing a comeback and they had all been practicing really hard in the past few days. Anyone could see it was starting to affect them both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t too uncommon to see the other members’ partners walking around the dorm, so no one seemed shocked as you knocked at their door that night.

Minho quickly let you in after greeting you with his heartwarming smile, letting you know that Jeongin was in his bedroom. You practically ran to join your boyfriend, excited to hear all about his latest comeback stories. His face immediately lit up as you opened the door to his bedroom. He was sat in his bed, dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a plain oversized tee-shirt, scrolling through his phone. His hair was still drying from the shower he had taken after coming back from practice and the whole room gave off the fresh smell of his shampoo.

You joined Jeongin on the bed, asking him about his day. With a sigh, he begins rambling about how hard they’d been working for the past week. Jeongin rarely complains about anything, always grateful for what he has and careful not to burden others with his problems. You could sense he had reached a tipping point that night, as he laid his head on your lap and let you gently thread your fingers through his soft hair, while he tells you about everything that’s been going on recently as and you simply listen and occasionally nod.

Later that night, you had decided to unwind by watching a comedy movie on his laptop, which he had positioned at the end of the bed. You were comfortably wrapped up in a fleecy blanket, your head resting on his shoulder. You began laughing when you felt his hair tickle your cheek, causing him to turn his head to face you, your lips suddenly being inches away.

He didn’t know what went through his mind, but Jeongin instantly leaned in and closed the distance between the both of you. Your heart started racing, but although you were incredibly nervous, the kiss felt wonderful. Until you heard a knock on the door and had to quickly pull away.

Seconds later, the door opened to reveal Jisung, who had stopped by his friends’ dorm after practice. He couldn’t help but notice the odd position the two of you were in, paired with Jeongin’s awfully red cheeks. Not to mention the ‘I-just-got-caught’ look on his face.

Smirking, Jisung spoke, “Hey guys! What are you up to?” “Nothing! J—just watching movies, that’s all,” Jeongin replied suspiciously quickly. “Oooh! What movie were you watching?” Jisung further asked.

“Spirited Away”

“Insidious”

You both answered at the same time, shooting each other a quick but noticeable look of horror.

“Sooo… Which one was it?” Jisung pressed. This time, the both of you remained quiet, mouth slightly agape. Chuckling, Jeongin’s friend continued, “I see… Must’ve been really interesting if you can’t even remember which movie it was. By the way, nice lip gloss (Y/N)! It really suits yours and Jeongin’s lips!”

Shocked at Jisung’s bold comment, Jeongin argued, “Stop getting ideas! It’s not what you think!” “Sure, I believe you,” Jisung retorted sarcastically.

“This is such quality blackmail content!” he exclaimed as he left the room, closing the door behind him before you or your boyfriend could add anything.

[danidrabbles]

OCTOBER 1: KNIFE PLAY

Notes: Kicking Kinktober off with the following. Thank you as always @javier-pena for reading this over for me!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+!)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, romance???, sexy use of knives (...i hope), sliiiiightly dub-con but that’s Dave for ya, dirty talk, gags, 1 **** (dedicated to Kelli and Cris 😘) If I forgot anything important, please let me know!

The slam of the door startles you awake. Sitting up in bed, you listen to him rummage around downstairs, trace his path through the kitchen, the living room, and up the stairs. Usually, he’s more quiet, at least attempts to not wake you, but the fact that he doesn’t must mean that today is one of those days.

You know what Dave does; your darling husband by day, something else entirely by night.

It hadn’t started off like that, is what he told you once he came clean. He really had been a CIA operative before becoming what he is now. But this suited him better. He had tried to explain what that meant, careful not to scare you; that people paid good money to eliminate other people, that it sometimes got messy.

But you weren’t scared. You tried to explain that to him, and that mutual understanding, that you were the same on some level others might consider fucked up, it deepened your bond, your marriage, in a way you never expected.

The bedroom door sweeps open, his silhouette dark in the deep of the night, painted in shadows, but the little light in the room does allow you to take note of the blood that has dried on his face. It makes you inhale deeply, fisting the duvet under your hands and waiting for him to make the first move.

It’s one of those days, after all.

Dave reaches you in two big steps, his boots heavy against the protesting wooden floor, but waits at the end of the bed, gnawing at his bottom lip and balling his fists like he has to physically hold himself back.

“It’s okay,” you say, and as soon as you do, he’s on you. Sheets discarded, he crawls over you, pushing you back against the mattress. His eyes roam your face, and he seems to be looking for more than that, so you give him more affirmations. “You can take what you need.”

Wordlessly, he straddles you, a thigh on either side of your body, and you’re trapped below the weight of him, your arms pinned to your side, the fabric of your nightgown stretched across your frame. There’s a barely-there roll of his hips, and he’s unmistakably hard as he seeks out the friction against you. He reaches behind himself, then produces his knife from his back pocket. With a click, the blade reveals itself, glinting like a promise and fuck, it shouldn’t make a burst of arousal flare up inside of you, but it does.

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dave asks as he turns the knife over in his hand once, twice, before giving you an expectant look.

“Yes,” you answer, obedient, eager, honest—because you would.

The cold blade—phosphated carbon steel, as he once explained to you—presses against the skin at your collarbone, the tip just hitting the side of your neck, and you swear you can feel your pulse racing against the sharp steel.

You know exactly what he can do with it, what he has done with it, and yet you trust him, literally with your life.

“You won’t hurt me, not unless you know I want it.”

You don’t miss the way he grins, or grinds down against you, or how he inspects your body under his. In a flash, he hooks the knife under one of the straps of your nightgown and pulls, the fabric parting easily around the top of the blade.

An eager hand pulls at the flap of fabric until he can fill his hand with the soft, plump flesh of your breast. With a gasp, you arch up against him, crying out when he pinches your nipple and twists.

You expect him to go for the other strap, expose your tits to him and play with them until you’re begging him for more, but instead, he fists the torn fabric and pulls it away from your body, bringing the knife up to begin cutting a slit right down the middle. With each rip-rip-rip of fabric, the throb between your legs gets more intense, and an actual moan escapes your lips when he fists the last bit of it and pulls, tearing the garment in half and pushing it to the sides of your body.

His finger dips under the waistband of your underwear, grazing just where the soft curls on your mound begin. He toys with it, pulling it from your body and letting the elastic snap against your skin, before hooking his finger back under it.

“Want me to tear this off, too?” he asks, focusing not on your face, but on the task at hand.

You take a deep breath. “Use the knife.”

That earns you his attention, something akin to pride flashing across his face before he looks back down. In one rapid move, the blade slides over your hip bone and under the fabric of your underwear. With a tug, it tears, the elastic snapping and the material folding back, exposing you to his hungry eyes.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you moan as he repeats the action on the other side, again when he rips the fabric from between your legs.

“Open up,” he orders.

You try to move your legs, open them for him, but with his thighs still on either side of yours, it’s impossible. Just as you’re about to protest, he leans over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Open. Your mouth.”

His fingers find your face, and the pinch to your cheeks borders on painful, making you open your mouth with a wet gasp.

Even in the dark, you can see him smile, before he tilts your head back just a tick and spits. His smile only grows when you welcome it with a moan, eyes fluttering and body surging under him before you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing your open mouth before stuffing your ruined panties inside of it.

The blade is back at your throat, and the pressure of it against your voice box abruptly cuts off your answering whine. With a rough exhale Dave sits back and begins dragging the dull side of it down your body. Still, you find yourself holding your breath, your chest jutting out with the effort. Chin to your chest, you watch as he circles your nipple, once, twice, until it begins standing to attention, hardening at the cold, gentle touch. He brings it back to the centre of your chest and slides it over to your other breast, flicking at your nipple. Satisfied with how your body quivers under his, he slides the blade further down your body, following the bump of your ribcage to your belly button and down.

He shuffles back, and despite the fact that his body is no longer keeping your arms incapacitated, you keep them pressed against your torso while he crawls between your legs. With his free hand, he pulls one over each of his thighs, spreading you open for him to look at, to take you.

The knife kisses the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he keeps teasing you while he opens his trousers and takes his cock out. His eyes fix themselves on your cunt, no doubt glistening with want, even in the dim light of the night.

“You get so fucking wet for this shit, it’s depraved, sweetheart,” he grits out, and despite the fact he says it like he’s scolding you, you know he loves it. Dave is a dark man in more ways than one, and he loves that you’re like this. Like him. For him. With him.

He proves you right when he begins stroking himself, a ragged sigh sailing past his lips as he throws his head back, exposing the thick, strained tendons in his neck. He allows himself a couple seconds of relief, before he stops himself with a long exhale, a hand trailing up your thigh to touch you where you’re more than ready for him.

He fills you with two thick fingers, curling and stroking at your slippery walls, and it’s so much at once, making you cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“This sweet pussy is going to feel so perfect around my cock,” he says, eyes only leaving yours when he slowly pulls his fingers free, groaning softly at the way your body pulls at him, working to keep him inside. “Would you like that?”

You nod in the dark, unable to help yourself from bucking your hips to chase his touch. The hand that still holds the knife is quick to push you down, the blade glinting dangerously close to your hip bone.

“Want me to put it in, baby? Want me to put it all in? Push all the way inside until you can’t think about anything else but how deep you can feel me inside you?” He slides himself over your mound, pushing until the head of his cock can smear wetly under your belly button, showing off just what that would mean.

There’s so much you wish you could tell him right now. That yes, you want it. That you want him so badly to just take what he wants from you, here, like this, between the shreds of your clothes where you’re spread for the taking. That this ‘depraved shit’ does make you wet, it does when it’s him, when he uses you, when he makes it hurt.

But your affirmation is suppressed against the fabric in your mouth, nothing but incoherent, muffled babbles filling the bedroom.

And yet, it’s like he can tell exactly what you’d been thinking, because the knife hits the floor with a clatter, and if he gave you any time, you might be able to analyse the sudden surge of emotion that flows through you at the idea.

But he doesn’t give you that time. The sound of the blade startles you almost as much as the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance, as the slide of him inside, as the sharp thrust that makes his thighs slap against the back of yours. He pushes you up the mattress with the force of it, and your hand flies up to press a palm against the headboard to keep your head from knocking against it.

“Fucking Christ,” he sighs, stilling for a second to revel in the tight squeeze of your pussy before he draws back and spears himself through your slick walls - again, again, again.

“I’m gonna make this pussy come,” he promises, voice strained. “I’m gonna make it flood my cock and then I’m gonna cover you in my come,” he adds, a hand dragging over your torso, thumb and pinkie catching on your hardened nipples before he settles his hand on your hip to pull you down against him.

The head of his cock knocks against the button of your womb with each thrust, and at your silenced keens, he falls down to a forearm, eyes boring into yours as he continues to fuck you. “I’ve got you, baby,” he assures.

Your hand curls around his bicep, fingernails digging into the fabric of his long-sleeved top. It’s wet, warm, no doubt evidence of his successful mission, and that thought, your body’s response to it, eases the glide of him inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs, to draw maddening circles around your slippery, puffy clit, and with the way he’s been working you up, you already know it will take no time at all. “You know that, right?”

You nod with a muffled groan, focusing on the way he stretches you open and plays with your clit, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes with how hard you squeeze them shut as it builds—as it all builds.

You know.

--

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you all tomorrow for October 2: Stripping. Anyone who guesses correctly which character I’ve written for will get a sneak peek at the fic in their DMs😌

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[ravencrawls]

Can you write a one-shot were the reader is mike wheeler’s twin sister and she gets nightmares after the battle of starcourt so one night she goes to mike’s room in the middle of the night to wake him up because she’s so scare and she doesn’t want to deal with her nightmares on her own? Tysm ❤️

Hope you like it x

warnings; mentions of blood, nightmares and death

There was no way she was going to get any sleep, she had practically given up at this point. Tossing and turning was all she had been doing for the last three hours, glancing at her clock every now and then to see only minutes had passed.

Nightmares had been plaguing her mind ever since the 'fire' at Starcourt Mall. Everytime she closed her eyes she was back at the mall, blood smeared on the white tiles. The screams were the worst, sometimes she could still hear them.

Max and her hadn't spoken much after that night, Max had just lost her brother and she had no idea how to even talk to her anymore.

Closing her eyes, another image of the mind flayer filled her sight and she sat up abruptly, heart beating a thousand beats per minute. Trying to hold in her sobs, she slid off her bed, bare feet touching the cold wooden floors.

Mike was probably fast asleep, but she was so scared she couldn't really care about waking him up.

The door creaked as she opened her twin's bedroom door, and he was in fact asleep, snoring softly.

"Mike?" she tried, not wanting to startle him.

He didn't stir so she made her way toward him and slid in bed beside him, resting her back against his headboard, drying her sweaty palms on his sheets.

"Mike," she nudged him with her elbow and he opened one eye, tiredly.

"What's wrong?"

Her brother sat up on his elbows, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he took in her scared appearance. Mike was afraid something bad had happened and was now fully awake, frowning.

"I'm scared." she whispered, wiping at her tears quickly.

"Another nightmare?" he mimicked her positions, pulling the covers over both of them.

His sister nodded her head, biting her lip to keep in her sobs. Mike let out a sigh, feeling terrible she was still unable to sleep without waking up in a cold sweat.

"I have them too." he confessed. "It might be awhile before they're gone. Hell, maybe they'll never fully leave. It's okay, you're not alone. We'll get through this."

"I'm sorry for waking you." she sniffed.

"Don't be." he said. "Stay here, try to get some sleep. I'll be right here."

"Thanks, Mike." she smiled sadly.

[fantasia-monogram]

Inspection

♥️ Inseong x reader (gender and pronouns not specified, female anatomy)

♥️ Smut (~2k words); I'm back with my quirky nerdy a bit emotionally detached Inseong agenda! Oral sex and fingering, a tiniest little bit of anal play, edging, lightly hinted objectification and somnophilia and, possibly, some elements of medical play (can be interpreted like that). Established relationship. They're both kinky bastards, everything is fully consensual.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how he is in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

You certainly didn't plan to wake up before the alarm, but the sound of rustling behind you pulled you out of your well deserved sleep. It was already getting bright outside - despite that, you were about to try your luck dozing off again.

At least until Inseong's arm sneaked around your waist, only to push you snug against his chest.

You hummed in confusion. Inseong? Awake at this hour?

"Shh- You can just doze off. I need to do an inspection on you." His whisper, smooth like silk, brought warmth to the back of your neck.

"Inspection?" You asked, although at this point, nothing coming from Inseong's pretty mouth should have sounded weird or confusing. Especially so early in the morning. "What are you on this time?"

"My brilliant brain. And eight hours of quality sleep," he murmured against the shell of your ear. That was true: last night, he went to bed right after taking a shower, claiming he would only take a short nap. Two hours later, you had no heart to wake him up, so you just snuggled with him and fell asleep yourself.

"Anyway, we haven't seen each other for a couple days… I need to check up on… some vital parts of your gorgeous body." His hand hovered over the front of your briefs. "See if you're cumming properly."

You squirmed in the embrace, unable to hide the jolt of excitement that rushed through your body. That only made Inseong pull you closer.

"Oh no, we can't have you all tensed up during the hole inspection," he cooed with fake sympathy; you couldn't tell if his choice of words weirded you out or made you horny. Probably a mix of both. "You need to relax."

Just as he said that, he moved his hand upwards, letting it slide under your T-shirt. He caressed the skin on your stomach, which definitely wasn't helping you calm down.

He leaned his head over your side. Now, with better access, he left a trail of tender kisses from your temple, all the way down your jawline. You were just starting to relax a little, when his fingers moved down, catching the hem of your underwear.

"The sooner we start, the better. Be nice and follow my instructions, okay?" he asked in a reassuring tone, although you knew he was just pretending. Mere thought of his dirty intentions made you shiver.

He sat up and pushed away the sheets.

"Can you lie on your back for me?"

You nodded and did as he told, your heart beating faster with every moment.

Inseong was in front of you in seconds, sliding your briefs down.

"Okay, now spread your legs wide."

You trembled when cold air hit you between your legs, as you hesitantly fulfilled the order - or maybe it was just because you felt so exposed. Inseong, not wasting any more time, nestled himself comfortably, leaning on his elbows. He moved his face dangerously close to your pussy; you could feel his breath on your skin.

After a while of just observing intently, he spread your labia with his fingers, using the thumb of his other hand to press your clit in a little circle. You grasped the sheets beneath you, holding back a moan.

All that anticipation was driving you crazy, even though he was touching you without any kind of lubrication so far.

"Oh, okay. Correct reaction."

Inseong's voice was steady and almost neutral despite the situation you were in; he still didn't bother to look away, either. Another circular motion of his thumb had you writhing, but you didn't make a sound - that is, until he grazed another finger through the slit of your entrance, making you whine at the brief contact.

You decided to peek, only to see him observe his now wet index finger. Then, he licked it clean.

To say you were all fired up would be an understatement.

"That's better." He returned to his earlier position. "But still not enough."

He made brief eye contact with you, probably just to make sure you can see everything well. Lining his face right above, he let a streak of saliva drip from his mouth onto your clit.

Your body jerked as the liquid hit your swollen bud, the roll of it through your skin almost agonizing. Inseong, still in character, watched it flow leisurely, until the last drops disappeared between your cheeks.

You swore your revenge after you were done. This amount of teasing was truly criminal.

Next moment you had to drop your threats, though, because Inseong nonchalantly brought some of your wetness up and started massaging your bud properly - all of that with his eyes still focused on his ministrations.

Yes, you were basically reduced to your pussy. Yes, it was turning you on like hell.

The movement was definitely too slow to be satisfying, so when clenching around nothing gave you no relief, you let out a couple strangled, high pitched whines.

Inseong picked up your clue, though not without putting his own twist into it.

"I suppose we're done with the preparation," he stated calmly. "Time to start the actual inspection."

That bastard. He was just playing around all that time.

He carefully pushed a single finger into you - and you could clearly tell it was the middle one, because once it was all in, its tip rested right on your sweet spot.

You tried rotating your hips to get some pressure you craved so much. Inseong immediately withdrew, no more than a centimeter or two, making you cry out from sheer frustration.

"Everything seems to be fine on the inside, too." Inseong murmured. You could hear a devilish smirk in his voice.

You were looking to the side, not wanting to show your eyes were glazed over with tears, but you caught Inseong sitting up straight with the corner of your vision. He was staring right at your face.

No, you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you so worked up.

As if he read your mind, he put his hand on your knee, spreading it further. Still staring at you, he started pulling his finger out as slowly as it was humanly possible. You were so swollen and sensitive already that the deliberate, agonizing movement was making you lose your mind.

Inseong chuckled. He was clearly enjoying it.

You thought he was done teasing and would just peacefully bring you to climax, but he had something else in mind.

Daring to look at what's happening, you saw him finally pulling the finger out, a long streak of your juices sticking to it. You could swear you blinked for a mere second - only to get startled by your own sharp gasp as Inseong pushed three fingers at once into you, the slide easy thanks to all the wetness.

Oh God, the fullness was heavenly after all the teasing.

Keeping his eyes on you, Inseong started pumping his fingers in and out at a relentless pace. At the same time, he kept rubbing your clit with his other hand.

He might have sucked at physical activity, but his hand coordination was out of this world.

You covered your face with your arm to drown in the intense sensation; at this point, you didn't care - you screamed, unable to handle the delightful stretch in a collected way. Soon enough, your cries dissipated into quick breathy moans, a tell-tale sign you were close.

That's when Inseong abruptly removed his fingers, once again leaving you empty. You let out another scream; this time, out of frustration.

"For fuck's sake, just let me cum!" You hit the bed with your fist.

Inseong laughed out loud.

"What? Are you kidding?" He laid down on his stomach. "We still have another hole to inspect."

You went quiet immediately. You brought up this topic a couple of times before. Was he actually going to do it now? A shiver took over your body.

Inseong pressed his middle finger against your clit hard enough to elicit a choked gasp from you. He started moving it down, coating it well with your juices. Once he passed below your entrance, he licked his lips and leaned in to press them on your clit.

You couldn’t control the sounds coming out of you anymore when he put his mouth and tongue to work, literally making out with your pussy - slow kisses, licks and warm huffs of air turned you into a mess in no time. The feeling was so overwhelming you almost forgot about his finger that was going lower and lower down your crack.

You held your breath when you felt it touch your other hole.

Inseong stopped for a moment. He swallowed theatrically. What a show off.

“I need your consent for the final part of the inspection.” He was dead serious.

“G… go on…” You mumbled, surprised at how hoarse your voice has gotten.

With that, Inseong’s tongue swirled on your skin again, and his finger mirrored the movement. His oral game, as amazing as always, distracted you for a moment; he increased the pace, and you decided to focus on the sensation.

Then, you felt the pad of his finger push a little, and your mind was gone.

Your orgasm hit at the slightest breach through your rim; you came hard, practically wailing, shocked by the intensity. It lasted longer than usual as well, so that when you were done, you could barely get yourself back together.

“Oh God… Oh God, what was that…” You wondered, completely out of breath. Stunned and confused, you sat up.

Inseong’s shirt was soaked all around the collar, not to mention he was wiping his chin with a sleeve.

“I give it an 8 out of 10 score, just because of squirting. Didn’t get to inspect the other hole properly.”

You smacked his shoulder, although it was more like a weak pat considering your physical strength just leaked out of you.

Quite literally.

Inseong’s only reaction was surging forward to pin you to the mattress with his body. He pressed his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You didn’t mind it; you both loved being a little messy anyway.

"I love you so, so much. I'm sorry I called your cunnie a hole," he said, breaking the kiss. You shook your head at his remorseful expression; he always gave such cute nicknames to your intimate body parts that this one time wasn't an issue for you at all.

He embraced you tightly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hey, sir, I think we have one more inspection to do,” you giggled, feeling a half-hard bulge poking your thigh through Inseong's shorts.

No answer came. You pulled away from the embrace as much as you could, locked by Inseong's tall frame.

The boy was asleep already, resting his head on your shoulder, a carefree smile on his lips.

You sighed and patted his hair fondly. Well, sometimes it was all about him giving you pleasure you deserved, rather than trying to chase his own. Having you blissed out under him would feed his (bigger than expected) ego just enough.

Actually, it was one of the things you loved the most about your relationship - right after Inseong's unusual quirks and kinks, that is.

[daniclaytcn]

there ain’t nothing common about us

a/n: some much needed comfort after all the hurt the fandom has put itself through this past week :)

aO3

title courtesy of @malikjavaddzayn, thank goodness she isn't as indecisive as i am!

tagging some people who may be interested: @evaneddie @diazalex @buttercupbuck @diazseddie @firefighter-diaz (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from my tag list!)

When Eddie wakes, it is violently and with a tortured gasp as he abruptly sits up in bed, the sheets tangled around him. He covers his face with his left hand for a moment, breathing heavily, fighting back the sobs that threaten to spring free, his body shaking like a leaf.

It isn’t the first time he’s woken up like since he was discharged from the hospital with a sling around his right shoulder and an acute sense of fear and paranoia that followed him even into the safety of his own home. It has been almost a month, but the nightmares wake Eddie almost every night, varying in degrees of severity. The first two weeks were the worst, reaching the peak when he screamed in his sleep loud enough to wake Christopher, leaving the boy shaken and terrified.

Eddie put Chris into therapy the next day, and started working on waking himself up before the nightmares could get out of hand. The last thing he wants to do his traumatize his son even more than he already is, Chris has been through far too much at such a young age.

The dreams seem to blend together most of the time, memories of Afghanistan and the shooting, making the lines between the two blurry and unrecognizable. Sometimes, he’ll see the bodies of his fellow soldiers scattered around him on a sunny street in LA. And other times, he’s in the inky-black darkness of the desert, reaching out for Buck, who seems impossibly far away, covered with sand and blood.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Eddie reaches for his phone, wincing as the movement jostles his right shoulder. It’s 2 AM. Wonderful.

He tiptoes down the hallway to Chris’ room, cracking the door open just enough to see the shape of his son under the covers, sleeping peacefully. The sight makes something settle in his chest, the something that has been left askew after every single nightmare. He is here. He is safe. Christopher is safe. He didn’t leave him (again). They’ll be alright, eventually.

How pathetic is it that even after a month, he still needs to remind himself of it almost daily?

Eddie returns to his room and sits back down on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he feels a wave of bone-deep exhaustion wash over him. Between the PT and Chris’ therapy and occasional nightmares and his own nightmares, Eddie needs all the rest he can get. But he never can go back to sleep after waking up from an episode and. Well.

Maybe he should start going back to therapy, too. Eddie knows he’ll have to, eventually, to be cleared for duty. But before that, he still needs to get himself together. For Chris’ sake, if nothing else. He just—he can’t stand the thought of talking to some stranger about what happened, though. The only person he has been able to talk to so far is Buck.

Buck. He’s been a rock throughout this whole process, the entirety of the 118 has, really. Buck, though? He’s just been around, somehow more entwined in their lives than before, cooking meals, helping out Eddie with chores around the house, watching Chris when Eddie needs his rest. And coming from anyone else, it would make Eddie bristle, would make him protest that he doesn’t need all this extra help, to be treated like an invalid, but it never feels like that with Buck. Never has. He’s just…there, sometimes spending more time in Eddie’s house than his own apartment, putting up with Eddie’s occasional bursts of temper on harder days. He doesn’t allow Eddie to push him away, and Eddie thinks there’s nothing more he is grateful for, really.

Eddie is dialing Buck’s number before he can stop himself. While the two of them have talked about the incident, briefly, Eddie has never told him about the nightmares. He knows Buck blames himself, still, because he has a guilt complex possibly larger than Eddie’s own and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t want to be a burden. He should be able to deal with this himself. He did deal with it alone, after returning from Afghanistan. Why is this time so different?

Buck answers on the third ring. “Hey,” He doesn’t sound surprised or panicked at receiving a late-night call from Eddie. He doesn’t even sound like he’s been startled out of sleep, but Eddie feels the need to apologize anyway.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” He says, guilt feeling like lead in his stomach.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t asleep,” Buck says and before Eddie can wonder why, he’s asking, “Is everything alright?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer and nothing comes out. He feels frustrated tears prick at his eyes and he exhales deeply, trying to hold them in.

“Eddie?” Buck sounds more concerned now, and Eddie can hear a rustling noise, like he’s sitting up.

“Sorry, yeah,” Eddie manages to get out, wondering if his voice sounds as wrecked to Buck as it does to him. “I, um—” Might as well just rip the bandage off and get it over with. “Nightmares.” He says, finally.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, his voice taking on a softer, consoling lilt. He doesn’t sound surprised. Eddie doesn’t know why he expected him to be.

“It’s just—” Eddie breathes out harshly, gripping the phone harder. “I just can’t fucking sleep. It’s almost every night, I just keep reliving that day over and over and it never stops and I should be over it by now, right? And I should be able to hold it together, for Chris, he deserves so much better, but—God. It’s too much.”

“Have you considered going back to see Frank?” Buck asks, carefully. Eddie sighs.

“I did. I mean, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? I need to get better, and Chris—”

“But this isn’t about Chris, Eddie,” Buck interrupts, almost sharply. “You should want to get better for yourself, too. I mean, you were shot. In broad daylight, with zero warning—” he cuts himself off for a moment and Eddie can hear him exhale roughly over the line. “No one expects you to just bounce back. Trauma doesn’t exactly have a time limit, you know. You need to do what’s best for you.”

And Eddie can suddenly remember Carla’s words in that moment—Make sure you’re following your heart instead of Christopher’s—and wants to laugh hysterically at the irony of it. He knew then that Carla had a point—it’s why he broke up with Ana—and he knows that Buck has a point, too. But it isn’t as easy as it sounds.

“I’m not sure I know how.” He confesses.

“I know,” Buck says, softly, and sighs. “You always put Chris first, Eddie, that’s who you are, and that’s why I—”

Eddie holds his breath for a second. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting.

“Anyway,” Buck says, after too long a pause and Eddie deflates slightly. “You’re important too, Eddie. I wish you could see that. I wish you could—you could see yourself the way I see you.”

And how do you see me? Eddie wants to ask, but doesn’t dare. Things have changed since the shooting—there’s no way they couldn’t—and he feels like he and Buck have been hovering on the edge of a precipice, something electric and alien sparking between them. There isn’t a word for it, and neither of them have done anything about it. They’re really not in any state to do so. But lord, is Eddie tempted, sometimes.

“Why were you awake, anyway?” Eddie asks, wanting to break the thick tension that has suddenly formed. Buck sighs, like he was afraid he would ask.

“Nightmares,” He says, clearly trying to sound casual, but a waver in his voice gives him away.

Eddie’s chest clenches. “I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a wet-sounding chuckles and Eddie hates the idea of it, him having nightmares all alone in that apartment. “Only you would apologize for getting shot, Eddie.”

“Come over,” Eddie says, before he can stop himself. “I know it’s late, but—I don’t think either of us should be alone right now.”

There’s a lengthy pause and Eddie almost wants to take it back but Buck, mercifully, speaks. “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yes.” Is what Eddie says. I always want you here, is what he doesn’t dare to say.

Buck pauses again. Then—

“I’m on my way.”

Eddie turns off his phone and waits in the darkness for Buck to arrive. The moment he hears the key turn in the lock, he exhales a relieved breath and manages to smile when Buck appears in the doorway of the bedroom, hovering hesitantly, as though he expects that now he’s here, Eddie will change his mind and kick him out.

Eddie tries to sound exasperated, but it comes out sounding fond. “Buck, I really hope you didn’t come all the way here in the middle of the night just to crash on the couch.”

That makes him laugh and eases some of the tension from his shoulders. Kicking off his shoes, Buck moves over to the other side of the bed and lays down over the covers on his side, facing Eddie.

It should be uncomfortable, this level of intense intimacy that hasn’t been present in their relationship before. But right now, Eddie feels the most comfortable and relaxed he has in a while and he can only hope that Buck feels the same way, too. He reaches out, a little tentatively, to take Buck’s hand in his.

The other man stiffens slightly and he looks at Eddie with something like wonder in his eyes.

“Don’t make this weird, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, hoping to break some of the tension. It works, and Buck lets out a startled chuckle.

“God, you’re such an asshole.” But he complies, slotting his fingers through Eddie’s and squeezing tight. Eddie can remember him doing it in the firetruck on the way to the hospital and he swallows. He’s glad he has a better memory to replace that with.

Eddie closes his eyes, feeling a hazy, soft, sort of comfort settle into his bones, with Buck’s touch and just him, there, so close by. He can’t help but wonder why it took them so long, to give each other the comfort they each need.

“Buck?” He murmurs, without opening his eyes. Buck hums in reply. It feels strangely domestic and makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster.

“I think I will go to see Frank,” He says. “But for myself, this time.”

Eddie can’t see Buck’s face when he replies, but can hear it, the tender, proud smile in his voice. “I’m so glad, Eddie.” He says, his voice cracking a little bit.

If Buck says anything after that, Eddie can’t hear it, as sleep pulls him under into the most restful night he’s had yet. And when he wakes in the morning, Buck curled around him, his face peaceful and serene in the golden sunlight, Eddie can revel in the fact that the feeling was mutual.

[psijic-toast]

FFXIVwrite 1: Cross

AO3 link if you’d prefer to read it there. It was always a race, in the end.

Neither participant knew how it came to be this way, just that it was. A period of time would be reviewed and decided -the time difference had been calculated and catalogued enough to be measured. Clocks would be set, Goodbyes given. Days would pass on the Source, weeks would pass on the First. And when the appointed hour arrived, the race would begin, as both the Exarch and Warrior of Darkness went about bringing the latter back across the rift.

This time, T’ahria had Feo Ul to thank. Her beautiful branch had come to her in a dream, to remind her of the day -before ending it abruptly and leaving her tumbling out of bed as if it hadn’t been past midnight. She had startled Clemance awake in turn, who kindly went to wake up a few others to say goodbye. Krile, her mother and Estelle saw her off, as she finished tugging on her boots before racing across Mor Dhona.

It was easier to attune to the Crystarium Aetheryte the closer she was to “her” Crystal tower. On the edge of Silvertear Lake, it felt like pressing your hand through a silk curtain to find another’s, or perhaps trying to breach a particularly sturdy bubble. She took in a breath of the cool night air as she let her mind wander, searching for the distant threads of the First’s aetheric stream. And then she found it, set her sights on it, willed her being towards it; willed her soul to cross the rift safely and soundly. 

As the last of her aether parted with the Source, she heard his voice, faint as a whisper. <i> “Let expanse contract, eon become instant…”<i>. Had her face been corporeal, no doubt she would struggle to keep the smirk off it. She was <i>winning<i>.

When next she opened her eyes, she was assaulted by the light of the first -in the middle of the day, without a cloud in the sky. She winced, stumbling, caught by the Guard closest, who offered her words of reassurance and a “Welcome back”. Fatigue worked its way into her bones, surprisingly similar to how it felt teleporting to Kugane, despite the more immeasurable distance.

“I think you worked yourself a bit too hard this time, don’t you?”

She still had the energy to grin up at Alisaie, who stood a few paces away. She was adding another tally to the chalkboard in her hands - “G’raha vs. T’ahria”,  although “Cookies owed by Alphinaud” seemed a more fitting title, given its use in tracking their bets against one another.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about” T’ahria responded. With a grateful nod, she took a step from her new guard friend. Only to stumble once more, almost into the staircase that wrapped around the room, if not for Alisaie’s timely rescue.

“Of course you don’t” The girl grunted, standing the older up straighter, arms linked to support her more subtly. “You certainly didn’t expend more aether trying to cross the rift quicker than you actually needed to, or anything like that, did you?”

“Of course not, that would be foolish”

“Of course”

“Of course”

They were halfway across the Exedra when the doors of the Dossal Gate opened. At the sight, T’ahria raised her hand in victory, and even at that distance she could see the Exarch chuckle and shake his head. 

Alphinaud met them first, shaking his own head at the sight of the exhausted warrior. Though whether it was at her, or the fact that he now owed Alisaie fifthteen ginger biscuits, T’ahria didn’t know, and cared little to learn as she pulled him into a hug.

“One of these days you are going to appear at that Aetheryte unconscious” Ah, so it was the former. “Please just allow the Exarch to retrieve you. Just once”

“That’s not how races work Alphinaud”

“Indeed” G’raha spoke as he caught up. “Another flawless victory, my Warrior”

“Don’t say it like that” T’ahria froze, a look of horror on her face. “You make it sound like you let me win”

“I would never” He laughed, but she recognised the glint of mischief in his eye. “Welcome back. How was your Journey?” 

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

[moony-artnstuff]

Commission @smol-wincheeseter

Note: @smol-wincheeseter Hi hun! Here is your commission. Sorry that I didn’t post it yesterday, my computer crashed☹ I tried to add as many elements as possible, hope you like it, and I hope you’re doing alright!

WARNING: Depression, suicidal thought, self-harm (although prevented) Please read carefully and stay safe!

“Lassie? Is everything alright?”

You were shaken out of your thoughts by the sound of a voice. As you blinked your eyes and became aware of your surroundings again, you noticed Bofur had placed his hand over yours, which were resting in your lap. You turned your head to look at the dwarf and were met with his concerned gaze.

“Bofur?” you asked confused.

“You suddenly stopped carving,” he explained, motioning to the half-finished wooden figure beside you, “and then when I looked up you were scratching your hands and clenching your teeth. Are ya doing okay?” For a moment you just blinked, still processing the words. Then you put up the smile you always wore, and answered,

“Yeah, I’m fine, I was just… distracted for a moment. Thinking about my own world, you know?” and you hoped he would believe you. Bofur simply gave you a sympathetic smile.

“If you ever feel the need to talk about it, or anything at all, I’m always here.” and he gave your hand a friendly squeeze before standing up.

“Now, if my nose isn’t betraying me, I’d say Bombur has finished cooking us dinner, let’s go see what he’s made us.” and he offered you his arm. As you took it you hoped the smile was still present on your face, as only the thought of food made you want to throw up. When the two of you arrived you sat down next to Fili and Kili, quickly joining them in their conversation. Laughter soon filled the air, as you started to crack jokes, making Fili clutch his stomach while his brother almost fell off the log you were sitting on. And then Bombur handed you your plate with food.

“Here you go, y/n!” he said cheerfully, a kind smile on his face, “We got lucky today. I’ve found some really good spices to make it taste extra good, I hope you enjoy it!” and his gaze almost seemed hopeful as he handed you your dinner. You assured him his cooking skills were most excellent, while trying to force down the nauseous feeling in your stomach. Even though it wasn’t a lot of food - the companies rations were scarce, and it was a matter of luck whether or not hunting would offer any food - but you could already feel the calories adding to your body, and it made you sick. Most of the evening you just played around with your food, listening to the talking around you, and every now and then putting a small bite into your mouth when a member of the company was looking your way, when all of the sudden you heard a strange sound next to you. As you turned your head you saw Bilbo trying to sneakily put some of his food on your plate. He abruptly stopped his movements when he noticed you looking at him, and he went beat-red.

“I- I um…”

“Bilbo? What are you doing?” You asked, wondering why that sweet little hobbit, who already had to deal with less meals than he was used to, was putting his food on your still almost full plate.

“Um.. I just- I didn’t mean…” he stammered, before taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I just thought that- you haven’t been eating a lot lately, and- and I’m worried about your health so I… I thought you could do with a little more food.” Bilbo had placed his plate back in his lap with his gaze fixed on his feet, hoping you were not mad at him.

“That’s very sweet of you, Bilbo” you swallowed, willing down the upcoming tears, “but you needn't worry about me, I’m just not that hungry.” You quickly stood up, flashing him a grin before continuing,

“I am rather tired however, so I’ll be heading off to bed now. Good night!” and before Bilbo could say another word you had turned around and made your way for your bedroll, even though you knew sleep wouldn’t come to you that night. You weren’t angry at Bilbo. You knew he only meant to do good, but you couldn’t stand eating the food, couldn’t even bear the thought of having to eat more of the food. As your head hit the pillow, dark thoughts started to consume your mind. How long would you have to go on like this?

*

As the night got darker more and more members of the company made their way to their bedrolls, until eventually only Dwalin and Fili - who were on nightwatch together - and Bofur remained. The latter sat on a big rock overlooking the valley below, smoking his pipe as he was lost in thought. He worried about you. A lot. He noticed you acted rather strange as of late, even though you seemed to try and hide it. At first Bofur figured it was simply the homesickness for your own world that made you seem detached from reality, and that, being as young as you were, it were the travel circumstances that made you seem so tense and exhausted at moments. But then his brother informed him that you started to eat less and less, and he heard from Fili and Kili that most nights you would barely sleep at all. And then there was your strange humming. Now, there was nothing wrong with humming of course, Bofur himself was always singing one kind of folk song or another, so it wasn’t the humming itself that was strange. No, it was what would happen after that. You would get up in the middle of the night and start to wander around, seemingly in trance until Ori had shaken you out of it, or when not even a few days ago, you had come back from bathing in the river, and had cut off all of your hair up until your ears. Bofur had worriedly asked you what happened, but you simply said you had wanted a change of style, and so he had reluctantly dropped the subject.

“You’re thinking about y/n too?” Fili’s voice startled Bofur out of his thoughts, and made him turn his head to look at the blond haired prince. 

“Aye, I am.” he sighed. 

“She’s been getting worse lately,” Fili continued, “I’m not sure what exactly is going on but, I- I fear she might be hurting herself, and she’s not reaching out for help, so I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ve been trying to keep an eye on her,” Dwalin spoke, who had joined them on Bofur’s other side, “been tryin’ to make sure the lass was eating and stayed in her bedroll, but I can’t stay awake all night.” and the warrior let out an audible sigh. Bofur fondly shaked his head at the warrior.

“Softy.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” and the three dwarves let out a chuckle, but it was short-lived when they simultaneously realized; humming. They whipped their heads around to look at your bedroll, only to find you gone, and so was Fili’s knife. Then Dwalin saw a glimpse of your form disappearing into the forest, and he ran after you, Bofur and Kili hot on his heels.

*

You only faintly realized you were humming as you wandered into the forest, some distant kind of melody from the subconscious of your mind. You didn’t feel the sting of sharp rocks under your bare feet, or the cold wind chilling you to the bone. You just felt tired. Tired and numb. When you stopped walking you had arrived at a small clearing. As you let yourself sink to your knees you started to toy with Fili’s knife, looking at the runes and marking embedded in the blade. It wasn’t your intention to take it without asking, but it was the closest sharp object you could find. You didn’t like the sting of the blade on your skin, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but you felt like such a burden to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. You deserved to be punished, didn’t you? You deserved to-

“STOP!”

A startled cry made you look up, and before you knew it someone removed the knife out of your reach and warmth enveloped your body as Fili wrapped his fur coat around you.

“What in Mahal’s name do you think yer doing lass?! Ya could’ve seriously injured yourself!” You recognized Dwalin’s voice. He sounded… almost concerned?

“Y/n… please, don’t do these things to yourself, we care too much for you to hurt yourself.” and it was as you met Bofur’s glassy eyes that tears started to form in yours. A broken sob left your throat as you tried to bury yourself further in Fili’s coat.

“I’m sorry… I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m so sorry!” and you wept as three pairs of arms surrounded you in a hug, letting out all the hurt and anguish you had bottled up inside you. 

“It’s alright lassie,” Bofur choked, “you’re gonna be alright.”

*

Dwalin carried you back to camp as Bofur collected some extra tunics and some warm socks for you to put on. While they helped you get dressed, Fili went to quietly wake up Oìn, softly explaining what had happened. The old dwarf tended to your cuts; cleaning and bandaging them, making no comment except for the shake of his head. When he was finished, he took both of your hands in his, squeezing softly to make sure he had your full attention as he said,

“If you ever need me to patch you up after these kinds of things, don’t be afraid to ask. I will not judge or make any comments, as long as I get to make sure you get looked after.” then he patted your hands one more time, before making his way back to his bedroll.

After that Fili and Dwalin went back to their nightwatch, but not before Fili insisted you kept wearing his fur coat. “You need it more than I do”, he had said. As you looked their way, you noticed Dwalin glancing at you from time to time, as if to make sure you were still there.

“Lassie?” Bofur said, and you turned to meet his gaze.

“I just want you to know that it’s okay not to be okay sometimes. Life isn’t always gonna be great, sometimes it just sucks, and makes you believe you’re things that you're not, that you’re someone who doesn’t deserve to be here, and when that happens I want you to come to me. I want you to know that you are worth it, so much. And that you are loved, and cared for, and irreplaceable. So please…” and he took his hat off and plopped it onto yours,

“Keep on living, and I promise you, the sun will shine on you again.” and that’s when you knew. That’s when you knew that you deserve people to care for you, you deserve people to tend to your wounds, to tell you it’s gonna be okay, and people to hold you when life feels like drowning you. Fondly gazing at your bandaged wrists, with Fili’s coat around you, Dwalin’s watchful gaze and Bofur’s caring smile, you knew;

You are loved.

[roselightfairy]

The necessary companion to the Agladogs is Ithilien wildcats on a cold night. <3

(The cat is a European wildcat, which seems to be like...bigger than a small cat but much smaller than a Big Cat(TM))

...

Gimli’s feet were warm.

Too warm.  It was the first thing he noticed when he woke – all at once, in that gentle-yet-sudden transition from sleep to waking that was surprising without being startling.  His feet frequently grew cold at night in Ithilien; it was not uncommon for him to wake in the middle of the night and press them against Legolas’s calves, startling a sleepy yelp from him before they both sank back into dreams.  But now he was wide awake without knowing why, and his feet were warm and – his eyes opened in confusion – pressed down under a new weight.

It was bitter cold, he noticed now, watching the shadows of trees sway across their moonlit walls and realizing that his nose and cheeks were numb. But that did not explain . . .

He looked up at last, lifting his head just slightly from the pillow and casting his eyes down at the foot of their bed, and it was all he could do not to flinch.

Loving Legolas, for better or for worse, had accustomed Gimli somewhat to surprise. His husband moved so quietly that he frequently startled Gimli even without meaning to, and Gimli had learned to suppress his automatic reflex to jump when startled.  And so he took in the large brown-grey cat curled up on his feet, now staring at him with round, pale eyes, and managed to keep his reaction to nothing more than a blink.

The cat blinked back.

Gimli rolled his head to the side.  Legolas lay still, his open eyes reflecting the moonlight in that eerie way that meant he was not fully present – but his dreams were so near to the borders of waking that surely he would have woken if something were truly amiss.  Still . . .

Gimli turned his head just a fraction more and pressed his cold nose against Legolas’s bare shoulder.

Legolas let out a hiss of breath; his eyes flew open wider, then blinked, and when he opened them again they were clear.  “Gimli?” he murmured.

“Legolas.” Gimli inclined his head towards the foot of their bed.  “Why is there a cat in our home?”

Legolas followed his gaze, then smiled.  “Ah, she came to visit,” he said happily.  “She comes on cold nights sometimes – I think she likes the bed and the warmth from the fire.” He made a soft sound – half-clucking, half-rolling his tongue – and the cat turned her pale-green gaze on him and blinked again, so long and slow that Gimli wondered if she had fallen asleep before she opened her eyes again halfway.

“She has not come before while I am here,” Gimli said, unease melting at Legolas’s familiarity with the cat.  Indeed, he now thought to wonder that their bed had not already acquired half the animals in Ithilien.

“Usually I latch the door when you are here,” said Legolas.  “I must have forgotten to do it last night, so our friend thought she would pay us a visit.” He smiled.  “She seems fond of you.”

Gimli glanced over at the door – sure enough it was open a crack, swaying slightly in the light breeze.  It was no wonder he had grown so cold – and he could not blame the cat for coming to join them, seeking refuge between their walls.

“But I am sorry,” Legolas said, his demeanor changing abruptly.  “You are cold, surely.  Shall I ask her to leave and then latch the door?”

Gimli looked at his husband and then again at the cat, whose eyes had fallen mostly closed again – as if she knew already what his answer would be.

“I am not so cold with my new foot-warmer,” he said.  “And I should hate to cast a friend out into the night.  She is welcome to stay.”

Legolas smiled and leaned over to peck him lightly on the cheek.  “Ah, but your face is cold!” he said.  “Here, turn towards me and I will warm you.”

Gimli looked down at the cat, already nestling more cozily down onto his feet – his feet which had never felt so comfortably warm.  “I dare not disturb such a peaceful rest,” he said – and despite his best efforts, he could not make himself sound reluctant.  “We shall have to find another solution.”

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (4)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Opening up with Wanda comes with more of a consequence than you’re prepared for.

Warnings: angst, discussion of grief and death, car crash mention, hospital, blood, graphic visions, ghosts/demons

A/N: I’m trying not to rush to the most intense part of the plot but please tell me if the story’s moving too slowly! feedback like that is veryyy helpful. also please check out my pinned post! I’m not writing any until I finish this series but I’m accepting them at all times!

Previous part

-

“What are you thinking about?”

Truthfully, Wanda was thinking about last night. About the way you seemed to open up and invite her into your heart, share your fears and desires in a way that showed a level of trust she was honored to have. Until something happened and you were suddenly building walls around yourself that Fort Knox would be jealous of, and this time, that ‘something’ was a nightmare.

A loud gasp startled Wanda awake, even more when she turned over to see you sitting up in bed and breathing heavily. She pulled herself up and placed a hand on your back, scolding herself for acting so quickly when you jumped under her touch.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she informed you, hoping the two of you were at a place where saying this would mean something.

“Sorry, I just...sorry,” you apologized breathlessly.

“It’s okay, babe. It was just a dream,” she assured you, a small smile growing on her lips as she felt you relaxing against her palm’s circular motion.

“I’ll be back, okay?”

You climbed out of the bed and left the room, closing the door behind you. She hated the silence that followed your exit, because it seemed to make her worry more than the moments you spent panicking in front of her for a reason she was afraid to ask for. She checked her phone four times while you were gone, and only three minutes passed until you returned with two glasses of water and one fake smile.

“Nothing,” Wanda tried to convince you, and you put your fork down with a sigh.

“I’m sorry if I scared you last night. I probably should’ve warned you that I have at least one nightmare a week.”

“Everyone has nightmares.” She reached across the table for your hand. “I just wish you wouldn’t hide yourself from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You came back in the room last night like I’m supposed to believe you’re suddenly okay after waking up in the way you did. I want you to be able to talk to me and trust me, which you do sometimes, but then something just seems to reverse all the progress we made.”

She watched as your eyes watered slightly and your shoulders seemed to sag. On one hand, she worried that she’d gone too far, pushed too hard and now you were about to crack under the pressure, and on the other she hoped (and feared) you just might be ready to give her answers. Then your phone rang. You ignored it the first time, but the caller was persistent.

“I should probably take this,” you sighed as you pulled the device from your pocket and Wanda watched you leave the room as quickly as last night.

-

You stopped abruptly on your way back to the dining table, growing a bit worried at the sight of Wanda’s abandoned plate. Seeing her tying her shoes by the apartment door with an unreadable expression was much more terrifying.

“Why are you leaving?”

“I thought maybe you could use some space,” she explained calmly as she stood up again. “I want to know more about you, but I don’t want you to feel cornered every time I ask you a question.”

“Wait!” you called as she went to grab the doorknob, rushing over to grab her other hand. “My best friend died in a car crash.”

There seemed to be a bubble surrounding the chair you were in, keeping the chaos of the emergency department far away from the corner of the waiting room you’d chosen to hide away. The ringing of phones sounded distant and voices muffled, until one seemed clearer than ever.

“Y/N?” 

The voice belonged to the older sister of your best friend, the girl you actually wanted to be with. Of course, there was no way she’d even consider dating you now. She’ll probably hate you until the day she dies when she realizes that you killed--

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Is she dead?” 

You attempted to clear the dryness from your throat as you looked into her watery eyes, sitting right above her glistening cheeks that answered your question before her nodding did. You felt sick, empty-headed and overwhelmed with thoughts at the same time, and it didn’t help that you were now holding hands with your crush as she sat beside you.

“The driver was high. I forgot the name of the drug, but it sounded like something that should not have been in his system while he was driving.” She paused to clean the tear tracks and took a deep breath. “I just want you to know that it’s not your fault, okay? There’s nothing you could’ve done to fix this.”

“I could’ve said ‘I love you’ more.” You dropped your gaze to watch your feet kick against the chair legs. “She thought I didn’t care about her and we were arguing about it just before the crash. If I’d shown her more appreciation, we wouldn’t be arguing and maybe I would’ve seen that driver before he hit us.”

“Y/N, you can’t--”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Okay.” Her thumb rubbed against your knuckles and your stomach flipped violently. “Did you call your family?”

“They wouldn’t have even come if I did.” You pulled your hand away and got up to leave the hospital, feeling grateful for the fresh air you were greeted with that calmed your nausea enough to drive home.

“She was my favorite person in the world, and her family was there for me when no one else was. I feel like I let them all down by not keeping her safe that night, and the guilt has been heavy in my heart ever since.”

“So that’s why you have nightmares once a week and make people who care about you promise not to get too close to you?” Wanda asked quietly as she squeezed your hand, coming closer to wrap her arms around you when you nodded. “Thank you for telling me this, and I hope you know I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Not even to your house for clothes?” you quipped, laughing as she made a jokingly frustrated noise. “I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Did I pass Pietro’s test last night?” You pulled back a bit to look into her eyes. “I have to assume he’s as protective over you as you are with him.”

“Considering he sent me links to wedding dresses this morning, I think it’s safe to say you did,” she answered you with a chuckle. “Although I think anyone would be a step up after what I dealt with last year.”

“Okay, you have to tell me about this crazy ex of yours!”

“I will, I promise!” she laughed as she fully pulled away from the embrace, keeping hold of your hands as she did so. “But first, I’d like to finish that wonderful meal you made, right after I apologize for almost ditching it.”

So you returned to the dining room table and she waited with an authentic grin as you disappeared into the kitchen to reheat the food on your plates. Your late breakfast passed without incident, and you went with Wanda to check on Alexei again, deciding to join the mother-son duo for a walk in the afternoon sun. Everything felt warm and light again as you went around the block hand in hand, but a quiet voice in the back of your mind told you something was wrong before the one just behind your ear.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

Hearing the words for the first time since your dream startled you, but you managed not to react more than slightly squeezing Wanda’s hand, which she was luckily too preoccupied with fawning over Alexei to notice in the moment. The voice seemed deeper than usual, more aggressive and less patient, and you wondered if you fucked up by telling Wanda the little amount that you did.

“Do you mind if I head home? I just remembered I have one last thing to finish for work tomorrow, and I’d rather get it done early.” Your voice shook slightly in the middle of your sentence, and you could tell she picked up on it by the way she frowned.

“Is everything okay? You’re not shutting down on me again, are you?”

“No, not at all. I’m just kinda nervous because I’m up for a promotion and this project could decide whether or not I get it.” Technically not a lie, but the ‘one thing’ you needed to finish would take five minutes at most.

“Okay, I won’t stop you then.” She tugged on your hand to pull you closer and smiled against your lips as she kissed you, causing you to do the same as she pulled away. “Text me before you go to sleep?”

“Of course.” You went to walk away and frowned slightly when she gripped your hand tighter. “What’s up?”

“Promise you’ll call if you need me tonight. Or any night.”

“I promise,” you told her after a few beats and leaned in to kiss her once more. “Don’t have too much fun without me, kids.”

You finally make your way home after giving Alexei a few goodbye scratches and close the apartment door behind you with a sigh as the familiar phrase floods your ears again. As promised, you finish your work task, but you don’t text or call Wanda when the voice in the corner of the room gets louder.

Instead, you close your eyes and get hit with a dizzying vision instantly. It comes in flashes, but you very clearly see yourself and a shadowy form on a bridge, and another flash brings you to the image of yourself on the street under that same bridge, bones broken and blood pouring. Your eyes fly open as you gasp loudly, and you don’t bother to hold back your scream when you catch sight of the dark figure that’s always been lurking in the corner of your eye. In the light of your bedroom, you could clearly see the battered and bruised body of your best friend slowly raising her damaged arm to point a finger at you.

And for the first time in her life (and death), she looked like she wanted to kill you.

-

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