#and the one fic that deserves more attention: dream of me when youre awake

[thepixelelf]

...............not even close

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2024 ▪ Day 14

▪ Pairing: Han Jisung x Female Reader

▪ Kink: Somnophilia

▪ Genre: Smut

▪ Word Count: 1.5k

▪ Warnings: Soft!Dom Jisung, Sub!Fem Reader, established relationship, Jisung is extremely needy, wet dream, consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms

▪Please let me know if I missed anything

Color(s) Of This Fic: Black, Navy Blue, Periwinkle, and Silver <3

If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

Enjoy :)

Moonlight gently slips past the white sheer curtains of you and Jisung's shared room, providing a soft, soothing glow to the otherwise dark space. The silence within the room that was once comforting, lulling both you and Jisung into a peaceful slumber, is now almost deafening to Jisung as he lays wide awake next to your sleeping form.

Jisung lays flat on his back, eyes wide, yet heavy as he stares up at the ceiling. Images of the dream that disrupted his peaceful state of mind not even five minutes ago still flashing vividly through his mind. He can hear his heartbeat drum lowly in his ears, his fists balling into the sheets at his sides as he desperately tries to shake the images that play endlessly in his head.

He watches as the moonlight slowly shifts through the room; this provides just a bit of comfort to him in his current state of mind. He fights the urge to toss and turn, the sheets feeling heavy and suffocating on his hot skin as he kicks his comforter off his form with a quiet huff of frustration.

He looks to your side of the bed, letting his eyes trace over your soft features. The last thing Jisung wants to do is wake you up, he knows how tired you are, how tired you've been, and he desperately wants you to catch up on your well-deserved sleep. You've been working so hard recently, barely getting any sleep due to either stress or work, and he's watched exhaustion slowly take over every inch of your body as you've worked to finish this project.

Even now, as you sleep, he can see the exhaustion etched into each and every curve of your features, and he feels his heart ache in his chest as he fights the urge to run a gentle hand over the soft flesh of your cheek comfortingly. He throws his head back against his pillow, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

He can still hear the sound of your lewd moans from his dream, the way you whined out so beautifully for him as you took every inch of his aching cock. Jisung is almost convinced he somehow managed to start the dream over again with how vividly he can still hear and feel everything, and it almost drives him to insanity.

He fights the urge to buck his hips, desperately searching for any kind of friction as his length throbs beneath the confines of his sleep shorts. One of his hands flies to rest over his bulge, palming himself as his eyes squeeze shut.

His attention darts to you when you shift slightly in your sleep, letting out a quiet, soft whimper as you do so. Jisung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he applies more pressure to his length, thrusting up against his hand before he rolls onto his side to face you.

Jisung reaches out for you, pulling you closer as he shuffles forward to meet you halfway. You nuzzle into his warmth, resting against his broad chest as he carefully holds you there. He lets his hands travel under your oversized sleep shirt, almost letting out a moan when his hands make direct contact with your bare skin. He pulls one of your legs to rest over his waist, giving him access to thumb at your clit as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

In this position, he can hear every little noise you let out as he works you up, and he has to fight the urge to rut against your thigh when you whine out his name in your sleep. He manages to pull his sleep shorts down, letting the fabric bunch together just below his hips as he pulls you closer until your core is just inches away from his leaking tip.

He hooks one of his arms around your middle, letting it rest against your lower back to hold you against him before he pulls your panties to the side. He hurriedly presses his tip to your clit, rubbing it over the bud a few times before he slides his tip through your folds to gather your arousal. He lines his length up with your entrance, nudging the head past your opening and sinking into you.

His entire body shudders at the feeling of your warm walls slowly wrapping around every inch he stuffs inside you, his eyes screwing shut as he presses feather-light kisses along your neck. Jisung's breathing is already ragged, fighting the urge to take you the way he did in his dream as he listens to your breathing slowly pick up in speed.

He lets out a shaky moan when he bottoms out, unable to stay quiet with the way you were subconsciously squeezing his throbbing length. He rests his other hand on your thigh that's still around his waist, palming the flesh as he pulls out until only his tip is nestled inside you before he slowly thrusts back in. His entire body shakes from the sheer pleasure that takes over every nerve in his body, his mouth falling agape as he fully sheaths himself inside you again.

He repeats the movement, increasing his pace as little as possible with each thrust. He feels your hands weakly paw at his bare chest as soft moans fall past your lips. You're still fast asleep, and Jisung finds himself hoping whatever dream your brain is conjuring up for you is as mouthwatering as the one he woke up from not too long ago.

Jisung holds you against him with more force as he approaches his high, getting lost in the pleasure as he chases his orgasm. With just a few more thrusts, he stills inside you, spilling his release into your warm cunt as he lets out choked whimpers. He can feel your clothed chest rise and fall rapidly against his bare chest, and he moves to bunch your sleep shirt up over your tits to feel more of your bare skin against his.

He can't help but pump his release further into you, his length still hard and aching as he picks up his thrusts again. You claw at his biceps as you stir awake, barely grasping your surroundings and what's happening before all the pleasure hits you at once, causing your eyes to roll back and a loud moan to tear from your throat.

"There's my pretty girl." Jisung groans against the shell of your ear, his voice raspy from his own sleep being interrupted, mixed with the intense need to fuck you full.

"Hannie-" you moan out, your voice getting caught in your throat when you feel his previous release spill out of you with every thrust of his hips.

"God, I'm so sorry, baby," he apologizes, cradling your head against his chest as he finally gives in to his desires and fucks into you with as much force as you can take. "Didn't wanna wake you up, but fuck, I needed you so bad, baby. I couldn't take it."

You can only moan in response, unable to form a coherent sentence to answer him with as his tip hits that little gummy spot deep inside you that has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream. If that wasn't enough evidence for Jisung that he's right where you need him to be, the way your walls tighten and pulse around him is.

He knows you're not gonna last much longer, and with the way you're endlessly moaning out for him as your walls work to milk him dry, he won't either.

"Hannie, please-" you mewl, not even sure what it is you're asking for, but Jisung seems to know, knowing your body like the back of his hand as he picks up his pace while simultaneously sliding a hand between your bodies to harshly rub at your clit.

He feels your entire body tense in his arms, going completely stiff before you tremble in his hold. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your mouth falling agape as your high hits you like a freight train. You choke out a gasp before a loud moan follows, your vision going white as you cream around Jisung's cock.

"Fuck, there you go, baby." Jisung moans out, holding you securely against him as he chases his high. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

Not even a minute later, Jisung's thrusts finally cease as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, cumming inside your cunt once more with loud moans that mix beautifully with your own.

You both cling to each other, waiting for your trembling muscles to calm as you slowly come down from your intense highs. You lay with your eyes closed, feeling the exhaustion desperately trying to pull you back into dreamland as Jisung gently cards a hand through your hair. You open your eyes at this, meeting his gaze as he smiles fondly at you.

"It's okay, baby, sleep." He nods at you, finally running a gentle hand over the soft flesh of your cheek as he soothes you back to sleep.

Only when he feels you relax completely in his hold, your breathing even and calm as you sleep in his arms, does he allow himself to do the same. His mind finally calm and completely satiated as you both drift off, bodies intertwined and connected.

Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

▪ Author's Note

I love writing Hannie as a needy, insatiable lover who simply cannot keep his hands to himself and always needs to be inside you <3

I also strongly feel like he's actually like this🫠

▪ Taglist

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll @lixieisfrv @ka0ila

Send me a DM or ask to be added to the taglist

▪ Extras

©All rights are reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Stealing, reposting, copying, translating, plagiarizing, and modifying any and all of my work is strictly prohibited.

Released: October 14th, 2024

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[gingerjunhan]

xdinary heroes and the texts you wake up to

☆彡 Could this have been an smau? Yes. Do smau’s frustrate me to no end? Also yes. Oops. There needs to be an easier way to make those I swear

word count: 745 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: mentions of food (Heyongjun), lmk if I missed something

goo gunil

hello my love ❤️

I hope you had a good day today

I can’t wait to talk to you tomorrow :)

he won’t text too much because he knows you deserve your rest 🫶🏻

no matter how late it is you KNOW Gunil is checking in on you to make sure you had a good day

he doesn’t care if you’re asleep and you won’t see the message until the next day, he just wants to check in

he also has it worked down to a science that if you’re still awake when he messages you, you probably had a bad day

no matter how late it is he is always willing to help you through a bad day, or just talk to you about your normal day

even if nothing exciting happened, he wants to hear all about it

good night sunshine:) dream of me

I’m sorry I needed to picture that I’m blushing rn

kim jungsu

hi honey :) we just got done at the studio. today was so looooong!!

one simple text

a mini debrief, if I may

if he feels clingy I think he would send you multiple shorter messages

hi baby :)

I miss you

how was your day today?

I can’t wait to hear all about it

I love you

definitely makes your phone vibrate too much and then he feels bad for waking you

I also feel like if Jungsu is feeling clingy he will call you the second he sees you typing a reply

he just loves you so much and he wants to hear your voice :(

kwak jiseok

HI BABEEYYY ❤️❤️❤️

missed you today!

we just got home from work and I’m SO TIREDDD

call me in the morning!!

love you!! ❤️

so excited that he finally gets the chance to message you

if you text him back get ready for a play-by-play of his entire day

but don’t worry he will be just as attentive to your day as you are to his

if you feel too tired to text about your day he’ll offer to call you and stay on the phone until you fall asleep

he will tell you he loves you so. many. times. over the course of this conversation

work = time away from you = sad Jiseok

oh seungmin

hello baby

how was your day?

sorry if you’re asleep rn haha

simple, to the point

he totally sends you ootds every day, so you might also wake up to an ootd

he won’t get mad if you don’t respond because nine times out of ten if you respond he misses it because he’s asleep 💀

if he does catch a response he’s so excited!

did you have a good day? tell me all about it!

I can’t wait to see you baby

I missed you so much

I feel like Seungmin might not text much because he definitely prefers calling

he can’t rizz you up with texts as well as he can with his voice 😼

han hyeongjun

hi hi hiii

did you have a good day?

look what we had for lunch today

(attachment: 1 image)

if you don’t think you’d get a food haul from Hyeongjun every day you’re wrong

his sleep schedule is honestly so horrible that he would probably sleep through half of your texts the next morning/afternoon so he doesn’t mind when you do it to him

much like Jungsu, I can see him getting clingy over text?

his bubble messages from the other day inspired this whole fic, I just need y’all to know that

you can tell he really missed you if he pulls out the nicknames

I missed you today <3

I’m going to go practice some more

sleep well baby

lee jooyeon

hi :)

are you awake?

I missed you today

can you call?

Jooyeon also prefers calling in my opinion

he just wants to hear your voice :(

if you’re too tired to call but you respond to his text, he will literally stay on the phone with you until he’s too tired to keep typing

guess what happened at work today!

what did you do today?

did you do anything fun today?

are you busy tomorrow? I want to see you :(

a million questions

if it was up to Jooyeon you would come to work with him every single day so you didn’t have to leave his side

I am a firm believer that this man wants to spend every second of every day with you and he would never get bored of you ever

[violetsareblue-selfships]

Nightmares

Ship: Scaramouche x April | Word Count: 1177 | Warnings/Tags: Hurt/comfort (emphasis on comfort), let me know if I need to tag something

A/N: Ooh, so this actually gets into my s/i's lore a bit (I really should post the fic of her meeting Signora for the first time too hehe) anyways, I hope you enjoy this~

Scaramouche frowns as a soft whine fills the otherwise silent air of her bedroom. Her expression had been shifting for the last couple of minutes, but he'd hoped that it didn't mean she was having a bad dream.

She lets out a few more whines and whimpers, her face scrunching up into an upset one. Strange, though, that for it clearly being a nightmare, she doesn't look afraid. Her hands grip his clothes tighter and Scaramouche's frown deepens as he pulls her further into his arms until she's nearly on top of him.

His fingers start rubbing over her upper back automatically. "Ember, you're alright. You're safe." He murmurs quietly, wishing he could do more.

Her presence seems to ward off any of his nightmares, but just like it doesn't always work, nothing he's trying is soothing her enough. Though her body relaxes a small amount and her face smooths out until only a frown is on her face, she's still making soft, distressed sounds.

Nothing left to do but to wait it out. Sure, he could wake her, but if this were to end without it waking her up, she'll get uninterrupted sleep that she desperately needs. And so… Scaramouche waits.

Even as her sounds tear at something protective inside him, something that yearns to be able to do more for her. Even as her body starts to squirm, her breathing picking up along with the frequency of her noises.

April gasps awake and Scaramouche tucks her closer to him. "Shush… I've got you." He murmurs into her hair, his hand still rubbing over her back. She buries her face against his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her arms wrap around him.

She's holding him like a child might clutch their favorite stuffed animal in the same situation.

However, Scaramouche provides a benefit that a stuffed animal wouldn't be able to as he slowly starts to rock her, pressing the occasional kiss on her shoulder. "You're okay, ember…" He murmurs, feeling her tremble in his arms.

Something desperate claws at his chest when he hears her first sniffle and feels the first splash of warmth against his neck. His instinct is to tell her not to cry, but when does that ever help? From his own experience, as far back as it is, it simply makes you cry harder and that's not what he wants.

And so, he holds her as her tears start to fall more frequently. He holds her despite the way that he feels like he's not helping in the slightest, because pulling away from her now and hurting her in that movement would be worse.

"Scara?" Her voice hurts him, as soft and hoarse as it is, but he hums softly.

"Shh." He murmurs back. "You don't have to say anything." His tone is gentle, one he finds himself using more and more with her as time passes.

"I… kinda want to talk about it, though… You've told me your past so it's only fair." She murmurs and he scoffs.

"Fairness is irrelevant right now. You're a mess. You should work on calming back down so you can sleep." He says quietly. "Unless you think telling me will calm you down, then go ahead."

April lets out a soft, watery-sounding laugh and pulls back enough that he can see her face. His frown deepens and his free hand leaves her waist to come brush away some of her tears. This makes her laugh again. "You're too sweet with me…" She murmurs quietly and he huffs, the tips of his ears reddening.

"I am not…" He grumbles quietly, making her laugh again. "Besides… if any mortal deserved sweetness… it'd be you." He says a little less grumpily and she melts at his words.

"See? What I said… you're sweet." April murmurs as she leans in to peck his cheek softly.

"Hey. All the attention should be on you. You're the one who just had a nightmare…" He mumbles and she smiles at him, still trembling a little in his arms.

"I know… But you're just so cute, I couldn't help it." She giggles more as he basically pouts. She knows what's going through his head even if he doesn't say it out loud. Something something 'how dare you treat the balladeer this way.'

"If you're going to tell me what the nightmare was about, then do it. If not, go to sleep." Scaramouche grumbles and April nods, her expression subduing a little as she ponders where to start.

"So… you already know that Signora took me on as her apprentice and took me away from my home in Fontaine, right?"

"Yes." Scaramouche says, looking confused. "What does this have to do with your nightmare?"

April sighs quietly and starts explaining everything of how her parents treated her once she got her vision. The way that they wouldn't let her go out and travel like she wanted. The way they wouldn't even let her use her vision. That they've essentially disowned her for deciding to train with it anyway.

"Do they know how dangerous that is?" Scaramouche grumbles quietly after a moment of silence. "Especially with a vision like yours? All visions can be dangerous under high emotions but pyro?"

"I know." April says sadly. "That's usually where the nightmares come in. Me not being able to control it and either burning someone or something."

"Tch. Remind me if I ever go to Fontaine to have a little talk with your parents." Scaramouche murmurs, wrapping his arms tighter around her and bringing her closer.

April laughs a little at that. "Get in line. Signora's already tempted to go back and give them a piece of her mind. She witnessed our last argument and she's still upset about it even what… three? Four? Years later… Heh, even I'm tempted to visit. Do they even know their daughter's become a harbinger?"

"Let me be there for that conversation." Scaramouche says with a smirk, amusement dancing in his indigo eyes. April giggles softly and nods before letting out a soft breath.

"Thank you. I feel much better now." She murmurs and Scaramouche hums.

"Then go back to sleep. I'll be here if you need me." He says and she nods, leaning down to kiss him softly, just long enough to make his toes curl under the sheets before she pulls back and tucks her face into his neck again.

They're both silent for a while until Scaramouche is certain that she's asleep. "Your parents didn't deserve you, ember… If they couldn't see what kind of a treasure they had… it's their loss."

April makes a sleepy, but happy noise and nuzzles into his neck at his words. Scaramouche's face flushes. "Hey, you were supposed to be asleep."

"Ehehe~ I won't tell anyone I promise." April says and he huffs softly.

"Sleep, ember."

And if he hums some old lullaby he only partially remembers from his time in Inazuma for her to fall asleep to, neither of them brings it up again in the future.

[forabeatofadrum]

Ljubim te (9/24)

Notes: Happy 2023! How is the new year treating everyone? Here it’s so far so good.

I am still writing the later chapters of this fic, but chapter 9 came to me in a dream! Well, not really. But it’s here! Thanks for sticking around.

AO3 | S&C  

–  

VALUE

Kurt’s in Blaine’s kitchen, in his underwear, making scrambled eggs. Kurt stayed over, since the rain wouldn’t stop and by the time they’d finished the fourth movie, they decided that it’d be better for Kurt to stay. So they ordered food and Blaine gave him a pillow and a blanket for the couch.

So when Blaine woke up and walked out of his room, the sight of Kurt in his underwear greeted him. Well, okay, Kurt’s wearing a t-shirt as well, since Blaine gave him one. Blaine already knows what he looks like underneath, since he stripped yesterday.

Kurt’s currently wearing Blaine’s t-shirt and Blaine cannot stop looking at him. It looks good on him, even though it doesn’t really fit. Blaine should probably get Kurt’s clothes. They’re dry by now. The longer Kurt walks around like this, the more distracted Blaine gets.

Huh.

Blaine tilts his head. He really hasn’t stopped looking at Kurt. But can you blame him? Kurt is incredibly handsome.

Oh.

Blaine realises what is going on.

He’s jealous.

Of course he’s jealous of Kurt’s looks. What man wouldn’t be jealous of that flawless skin and the somewhat muscular arms (does Kurt work out?) and the long legs. Blaine frowns. It’s been a while since he had self-esteem issues like this. In high school, he was in an all boys’ school, so it was hard to ignore that a lot of guys were good looking and it always made Blaine somewhat uncomfortable.

Blaine pushes his uncomfortable feelings away, because Kurt’s made breakfast and he deserves the attention. They talk about the storm and about the movie, but they get interrupted by Kurt’s phone.

Kurt looks at the screen.

“Sunil is asking if I’m awake and if I want breakfast.”

Right. Sunil. Fuck, Blaine feels the discomfort about that as well.

“Lemme tell him I crashed at your place,” Kurt taps the screen and Blaine decides to get over his messy thoughts and be supportive.

“Uh, you and Sunil would make a nice couple.”

Kurt glances at Blaine.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s okay if you are!”

“Thanks?”

Blaine is totally fucking this up.

“We’re not dating,” Kurt says, “Just because I’m gay and he’s pan doesn’t mean we’re dating. Besides, I think I like someone else.”

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t want to assume. It’s true you can also have breakfast with friends.”

“Like this.”

“Yes. Like this.”

--

After breakfast, Blaine practically throws Kurt’s clothes at him.

“I’ll just get changed in my room,” he says.

Once he’s in front of his wardrobe, he doesn’t know what to do. Kurt likes his outfits. He said it during their trip to Koper and Piran and ever since then Blaine has been putting more thought in his outfits.

In the end he decides on a navy blazer, some dark jeans and a green bowtie. Kurt compliments him when he gets out of the room. Great! Together they leave the apartment. Kurt’s on his way to class and Blaine has a meeting to attend.

“Thanks again for letting me crash,” Kurt says when they part ways and they hug. It’s nice.

--

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

Blaine lies on his couch with the phone at his ear. He takes a breath.

“Do you think I’m handsome?”

“Blaine, you’re my boyfriend! Of course I think you’re handsome!” Quinn answers with a laugh, “What’s brought this on?”

Blaine wraps his free arm around himself.

“Remember that I told you that I used to be a bit insecure at Dalton?”

“… Yes.”

Blaine bites his lips and even though he’s alone, his eyes dart around the room. Eventually, he tells Quinn everything. She’s his confidant, after all. He tells her how handsome Kurt is and how he can’t stop looking at him, because his mind is constantly comparing himself to Kurt.

“But you should see him, Quinnie!” Blaine continues, “No man should look that handsome! And his body! Should I work out more?”

“You have a nice body, Blaine. You should value your body, you only have one!”

“Yeah, but Kurt’s nicer! His chest, Quinn! His chest!”

“Have you seen him shirtless?”

“Yes!”

Blaine quickly explains what has led to this. Quinn hums in understanding and she tells him that he’s a good friend. Blaine hopes he is. He did make it somewhat awkward this morning by bringing up Sunil.

“But Blaine, you look great. Even if you don’t look like Kurt,” Quinn reassures him, “It’s hard to believe it, but Denise actually told me about something new the other day.”

“Denise?”

“Oh, that’s senator Jackson-Smith’s daughter’s first name.”

“She’s still in LA?”

“Yes, we’ve been hanging out and today we talked about this thing called body neutrality!”

Blaine sits back on his couch and he listens to Quinn explain this entire concept. He comments every now and then and he makes affirming noises. It does sound interesting and Denise has the right idea. He doesn’t know if it will work, though. He wants to believe in it, but then he thinks about Kurt in his underpants and t-shirt, or Kurt without the t-shirt and that’s not an image that will leave is brain any time soon.

He feels restless, so he gets up from the couch to pace around. Quinn’s voice is still in his ear. She’s talking more about Denise now and Blaine’s happy to gradually change subjects.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let Kurt stay over. That started the whole thing.

“Blaine? Blaine! Are you still listening?”

Blaine blinks a couple of times.

“Huh. Yes.”

“Liar,” Quinn says, but Blaine can hear the joking tone in her voice. He smiles. “It’s late at yours. We can talk some more tomorrow.”

Blaine agrees. They say their goodbyes, and goodnights in Blaine’s case. Blaine needs an evening to himself. He might brew a nice pot of tea and curl up on the couch underneath a fluffy blanket so that he can read. He bought some new books from Mladinska knjiga and he’s been waiting for the right time.

Yes. This is a great idea. Blaine puts on the kettle and he walks to his room in order to get changed into something more comfortable. That’s when he sees the t-shirt that Kurt wore in the morning.

He picks it up.

“Snap out of it,” he says to himself.

[believemetheodore]

Northern Attitude pt. 5 (complete)

Ted Lasso x Rebecca Welton

Divorce is hard. it doesn't matter if you're the one who got left, or you're the one doing the leaving. When an unexpected blizzard puts a dangerous twist in Ted's hiking adventures he's rescued by an axe-wielding, lumber-chopping, blonde angel. Oh, and there's only one bed.

Warnings: divorce mentions, mentions of Ted's dad, mentions of Rebecca's dad, implied sex, let me know if you want me to add anything.

Fic navigation

Ted works on instinct more than thought with Rebecca. He feels free as they fall into bed together again. He can't say he's entirely sure about what he's doing, but he's positive that if this is the last time he gets to hold her like this he's going to remember it. Determined to live this moment in such a way that it won't ever feel like a loss. 

A part of him whispers at the back of his mind, scratching at the door and hoping to squirm its way into his conscious mind. A fear of loss, a fear of being too much. He’s terrified by how much he wants her.

Whatever happens, he won't allow regret or grief to touch it; he won’t let his fears taint this memory. He’s moving forward. He’s doing better. For himself-- for Rebecca too. She deserves better than she’s been given. She deserves, attention, support, love, and affection undivided and without conditions; and if this slice of time is all he has to give her that? He’ll be damned if she receives anything less. 

In the morning they aren't much more than a tangle of limbs. His mind is awake but his body is tired and entirely comfortable being held hostage by Rebecca's arms and legs. Ted’s eyes follow the paths of Raindrops sliding down the window, silently refereeing races between them. He keeps score of their wins and losses, drawing invisible tally marks across the skin of her back. She burrows further, under the covers, and impossibly closer to him. Blindly seeking heat in her sleep. 

He measures his pulse, convinced that his heart might leap right out of his chest. He calms his own breathing, syncing it with Rebecca’s deep, slow, inhales and exhales. The memory of the tide lapping at the sand during trips to the beach fills his mind, he hears his own laughter, Henry’s face bright with a joy that only children can manage to carry. 

In his mind, he counts the shells they collected that day, the same way the two of them count sheep to fall asleep. And somewhere in that inventory, Ted finds his eyes drifting shut again. 

Her fingertips tickle, brushing nonsensical shapes and letters across his chest and collarbones. Her lips feather light in their mission to scatter kisses. Ted doesn't bother to stop his growing smile, how could he in this private bubble of incandescent freedom. 

His left hand catches hers, halting its journey south. He swears he feels her pouting, but she laughs when he takes his turn doling out kisses, starting with the pads of her captured fingers. A gentle scratch of his mustache across her skin results in barely contain giggles from Rebecca. Ted revels in her amusement. Honoured to be privy to so many parts of her personhood; having seen her chop and lug wood, care for him so diligently when he was only an injured stranger, and now melt against his side.

“I have a son,” he blurts out.

It's not a confession. It wasn't a secret. But the words feel like they've shaken something. Shifted the tide. Four words that carry with them all his hopes and dreams, and all his biggest fears. A Pandora's box sorta situation. 

“I have a goddaughter,” Rebecca says, she smiles but Ted can see the complexity of something more in her eyes, the urge to say more lingering on her tongue. He wants to listen.  

“What's her name?” Ted ventures when the silence between them threatens to deafen.

“Nora. She'll be thirteen this year,” Rebecca answers without hesitation, “what's your son’s name?”

“Henry. He just turned nine,” Ted's smile grows again, and he rolls over to face Rebecca, “he's getting so big--sometimes I worry I'm going to blink and he'll be off to college. And while I'm sure he's going to do great things, I wish I could keep him a kid forever”.

There's what looks to be a pinch of hurt across Rebecca's face, but she takes a deep breath, and Ted can feel her long limbs stretching out beneath the sheets. It reminds him of a lion puffing up its main, an attempt to appear bigger, more confident. He decides that the silent pep talk suits her. She's definitely a lion. 

“I only managed to get reacquainted with Nora last year,” Rebecca explains, “she was six the last time I saw her-- I let Rupert isolate me, and then I isolated myself further. It wasn't fair to my friend Sassy. It certainly wasn't fair to Nora”.

“Doesn't sound like it was very fair to you either,” Ted all but whispers.

Ted’s learned to realize that Rebecca is far harder on herself than she is on anyone else. He can see it in the way she takes on half the blame for emotional aches and pains he’s sure are only Rupert’s. He wonders who taught her to bare that blame. 

Rebecca’s silence feels like enough of a response to his statement; proof that there’s more than what meets the eye when it comes to the psyche of the woman in front of him. Without words, he understands why she seems to stuff it all away behind walls and fences, but he feels them crumbling when she lets her eyes meet his again. 

“For what it’s worth,” Ted speaks, his fingers resuming their invisible artwork up, and down her spine, “I’d bet you’re a fantastic godmother. And I’m still holding out hope that you might be a magical one at that.”

She laughs, so he continues, “How neat would that be if this whole time you’ve been out in the woods doing fairy-godmother things? Turning chipmunks into coachmen, and pinecones into carriages?” The sound is infectious, and his own chuckles start as just a smirk growing as loud and as silly as hers by the time he’s run out of fairy-godmother activities to add to the ridiculous list of a skills. 

The passing of two days feels like two hours, and Ted holds off until the last possible minute to say his goodbyes. He knows the roads will be dark for his drive home, but he couldn’t care less. Sunset rests at the top of the trees and they stand leaning against his car, in the gravel parkinglot. 

“You should text me,” Rebecca says, pulling her flannel jacket closer around her. “I thought you didn’t get cell reception out here?” “We got cell towers put in. Turns out campers have a habit of falling off trails, and getting lost. If they have a signal it’s easier to get help… and hopefully, it makes the quiet seasons less lonely for us who live here year-round”. 

“I feel like you might be flirtin’ with me”. 

“And so what if I am?” “You might regret it. I can be quite the texter-- might call and chat your ear off as well,” Ted shrugs his cheeks aching from smiling. “I’ve had worse company,” she smirks, “text me anytime”. 

He kisses her before he leaves, and the feel of her hand on his cheek lingers, and his phone feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket with the urge to text her as soon as he gets to his first rest stop. 

At home, his bed feels too big. Too empty. Too cold. He still hasn’t texted her, and he decides to wait until the morning. He knows she was genuine in her invitation to message her anytime, but the fear of being too much still sticks in his throat. His chest feels tight, and he wills his eyes shut, convincing himself to count sheep for another night. 

Ted remembers believing that time moved faster when he was asleep. Six years old and bundled up in his coziest Christmas pyjamas, asking to be tucked into bed at 4:00 in the afternoon so that Christmas morning would come quicker. He wishes now that he’d been correct in his childhood reasoning, that shutting his eyes tonight might bring the next time he could see Rebecca any closer. 

His phone lights up on the nightstand. Goodnight, Ted. I hope you got home safe. 💜

The last few weeks of spring bring late-night conversations, and daily good-morning texts. He sends puns, and pictures of some of the art Henry makes at school. She shows him what she’s made for dinner and daily updates about the nest of baby bunnies near her cabin. He listens to her plans for the park’s summer programming and supports her new tree planting initiative, volunteering himself and Henry to plant saplings in the summertime. Nora comes to visit her and is happy to be put to work chopping wood, and scouting with her godmother. 

The summer sun is hot and leaves Ted’s cheeks, and shoulders tinted pink. The lake is a refreshing break after a long hike, and Henry insists on learning how to swim on this trip. Rebecca cheers from the narrow pebbled beach, her wide-brimmed hat protecting her from the light; and she’s positively glowing in her tank top and denim shorts. 

“I’m gonna teach you how to swim the same way my dad taught me, alright kiddo?” Henry nods eagerly, holding tight to his father’s arm. 

The water is shallow enough for Ted to stand, and deep enough for Henry to learn to kick and puddle. With the support of Ted’s arms under his chest and belly Henry gets used to going through the motions and gets comfortable floating. 

“Do you trust me?”Ted asks. 

“Of course,” Henry says and Ted slowly lowers his arms until the boy is swimming entirely on his own. 

“Dad, I’m doing it! Dad look!” Henry shouts swimming a lap around Ted. “I see ya bud! I see you,” Ted promises as Rebecca films the moment for him to keep forever. 

The fall rolls in heavy, all dark clouds and rainfall, the cold seeping in. September feels like a punch to the gut. 

He tells her about his father. About the day he lost him, the gap in his heart he’s never been able to fill back in, and the shattering sound he’ll never be able to forget. Rebecca tells him about her father, and the day she caught him cheating on her mother. She tells him about the constant suspicion she’s harboured since that night, and the anger she wishes she could shake. 

They talk about the odds, how the same date could’ve been so life-altering for both of them, albeit in different ways; what are the odds they found each other? They fall asleep miles apart, sharing their beds with cellphones propped up on pillows, the sound of the other’s breathing lulling them to sleep. 

November comes with a new wave of daily autumnal-themed puns from Ted. 

He boasts about his ma’s pumpkin pie and Rebecca sends photos of the trees changing colours.

“My work contract is expiring soon,” Ted tells her one night. “Oh, do you have the option to renew?” “I do. But I’m not sure I want to. I’m thinking about taking some time off. Look for something new”. “That sounds lovely. Are you going to travel?” Rebecca asks. “Sorta. There’s this park I’ve grown quite fond of, I was going to inquire about renting a cabin…You don’t know anyone who might have a place I can crash at do ya?” 

“I might know a place,” she teases.

“What did the acorn say to the ground?” Ted asks, his arms winding around her while she makes her morning tea. “What are you on about?” she’s still half asleep, and he buries his face against the side of her neck, leaving a kiss behind. 

“I’m falling for you”. 

Ted watches her set down her mug, turning to just stare at him. Silent. Blinking. And then, “Oh my god! You arse! Of course, you'd be the first to say I love you with some folksy little pun!” She smiles despite herself, his face held in both her hands, “you're incorrigible!” 

He hears the swing of her axe before he sees her. The swoosh of air before the echoed thud as it collides with the tree trunk. The tree she’s picked out is perfect. A smidge under six feet, with full brunches. The best Christmas tree he’s ever seen, though Henry would remind him that he’s prone to saying that about every Christmas tree they’ve ever had. 

“Can I help?” He asks as he gets closer. She pauses, lowering the axe and stretching her back, “I’m just about done here. But you could make me a cup of tea”. She grins, accepting his kiss. 

“That, I can absolutely manage,” Ted promises before adding, “I made you biscuits”. “I thought you were waiting for Henry to get here?” “Ah, but those will be Christmas biscuits”. “And the ones you made today-- on Christmas eve, they aren’t?” “Nope!” Her brows furrow, as she tries to understand him, “What are they then?” “These? These are ‘just because’ biscuits,” he shrugs. She can’t help her smile at his antics, “Just because?” “Just because I love you”.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Short Nocturn in Gotham prompt

I have an idea, and no brain space for it so here ya go. If anyone makes a story off this, please tag me!

This is a dp x dc crossover. And Anger Management because I’m obsessed with Jazz x Jason.

Jazz lives in Gotham, and works as a psychologist for Arkham. Things are going as normal as can be expected for Gotham and an Amity Parker. She’s only dealt with a few muggings and kept her head down because she’s Liminal! and doesn’t want to get the attention of a certain group of vigilantes.

What if Nocturn came to Gotham? (I don’t remember much of the episode so hopefully this tracks)

I would personally start it out trying to trick the reader. (Sorry, It’s fun!) A cute chapter or 2, where Jazz and Jason are together. So normal. Super accepting of each other. With so much fluff it hurts. But slowly, as the story goes on, more and more things seem off. Like déjà vu, like she’s done this before?? (Kind of similar to the vibe of that one Doctor Who episode where Donna Noble gets saved to the Library database. I can’t remember if it’s a 2 part episode? I think it’s called Silence in the Library??? I don’t know, and I’m not looking it up. If you see River Song’s first episode with David Tennant’s Doctor then you’ve got the right one. I think.) Jazz just slowly sees inconsistencies, and brushes them off at first. Hey, she deserves a chance to be happy, okay?! But as time goes on, there are just too many to ignore. She has a nagging feeling something’s not right and briefly wonders if it’s a ghost. But the only one that makes sense is Nocturn and he can’t be in Gotham right? Right??!

When she discovers Jason’s Red Hood, the revelation almost shocks her awake (total mistake on Nocturn’s part. He thought the vigilante thing would keep her asleep or deepen her sleep since it’s kinda normal for her with her brother). She does some quick thinking as she feels herself waking up, and yep, it’s definitely Nocturn, and decides she needs help stopping him. Makes a plan. Not a great one, but hey, it was last second. Literally.

Meanwhile Jason POV shows he’s struggling with believing it too. Thinks she’s too good to be true. (I don’t know anything about the DC universe. I’m going off of the fic Friendly Neighborhood Vigilante by @gilbirda Go check it out, it’s amazing!) And when she discovers he’s Red Hood, she does something ghostly (prolly eyes or strong stuff) and he’s like holy crap she’s a meta, and before he’s had a chance to process anything she says something like “Come find me when you wake up.” (gives me Edge of Tomorrow: Live. Die. Repeat. vibes which just feels fitting here) and shoots him in the chest right before shooting herself (non lethal bullets cause what if you can die in your dream?) and that shocks him awake.

She wakes up at her desk in Arkham to find out that all of Gotham is asleep. Thankfully this includes the villains. (But not for long!)

Does she call Danny or try to deal with it herself?

Is Danny the Ghost King?

Does Jason actually go or does Jazz have to find him?

She’s definitely questioning whether what she had with Jason was real. He does the same with her. Personally, I would keep Batman asleep for a lot of it but that’s because I know nothing about him aside from Wayne Family Adventures (which I’ve been told doesn’t count), the classic old show I watch when I’m sick, and a few episodes from Batman: The Brave and The Bold. Also Young Justice, but that was years ago. Before season 3.

If they have nightmares:

Would Jason’s nightmare be the Joker killing him?

Maybe Jazz’s nightmare is about Dan trying to kill her? Or coming back?

And that’s all I got. Maybe I’ll try to write something eventually, but right now my heart is heavy and my brain is fog. So if you have any ideas, go for it and tag me! I would love to know how you would change/finish it!

[ink-and-dagger]

If you’ve enjoyed my work and would like to give me a pat on the head, then please comment, re-blog, or visit my Ko-Fi page 🖤

[It is your responsibility to ensure you check all tags and warnings before reading anything. A reminder also that my blog is 18+. Minors - Do not interact with me or read my fics. No exceptions. It isn’t a question of your maturity. It’s a question of my comfort. Please respect this.]

Fandoms currently listed:

Ghost (Swedish Band)

Arcane: League of Legends

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Forbidden Fruit - Papa Emeritus iv x Reader

One-shot || Rating: M || Wc: 1.7k || Tumblr || AO3

Established relationship || Butt fondling || Fluff & humour

It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve?

Sour Dreams (and Sweet Papas) - All Papas x Reader

Four short, fluffy drabbles for how each Papa Emeritus would react to their partner waking suddenly from a nightmare. And how they would, in turn, lull them back to sleep.

Smut Drabbles (NSFW):

Say my name - Copia x afab!Reader

Wedding Night - Terzo x gn!Reader

Multi-Chapter

Drink With Me - Silco x Fem!Reader

[Visit the Drink With Me Masterlist for a full list of bonus content, one-shots, fan-art, and more]

Rating: E || Status: Complete || Wc: 138K || AO3

Slow Burn || Romance || Drama || Angst || Humour || Smut

Shortened Summary:

You never expected to end up working as a bartender at The Last Drop – having been scouted by a blue haired girl who wouldn't take no for an answer.

Neither did you expect to find yourself landed with the terrifying task of ensuring Silco's personal drinks cart is kept well stocked.

And you certainly never expected to find yourself inadvertently become the weekly drinking partner of the Eye of Zaun himself.

One-Shots & Drabbles

Marry Me - Silco x Reader

Rating: M || Wc: 4.3K || Tumblr || AO3

5 + 1 things || Love Story || Fluff & Angst || Childhood friends to lovers

His question is so obstinate that he almost sounds angry about it, "Marry me?"  The five times you turn down Silco's marriage proposal. And the one time you say yes. 

Suspend Your Disbelief - Silco x Reader

Rating: M || Wc: 1.3K || Tumblr || AO3

Young Silco || Sexual Tension || Fan-art inspired

When Silco shows up at The Last Drop wearing a pair of dark suspenders and a shirt that leaves little to the imagination - you suddenly find it nigh on impossible to focus on your work.

Happy To Help - Silco x Reader

Rating: M || Wc: 1.9K || Tumblr || AO3

Established Relationship || Domestic Fluff || Love Language

When a bout of civil unrest breaks out in the city, requiring Silco's undivided attention, you're left to single-handedly manage The Last Drop and all its inhabitants for one, long week. But your hard work does not go unnoticed, or unappreciated.

Stuck In A Rutt - Silco x Reader

Rating: E || Wc: 1.5K || Tumblr || AO3

Buttjob || Established Relationship || Soft Sleepy & Sexy

Silco awakes in the middle of the night from a dirty dream, and is left with a rather insistent problem that prevents him from going back to sleep. He's desperate for release, but can't bear the thought of disturbing his partner's peaceful slumber anymore than strictly necessary.

Jealous & Possessive: Headcanons and Drabbles - Viktor x Reader Silco x Reader || SFW but suggestive

Anemic - Silco x period!Reader drabble [request] || Non-Explicit, but NSFW vibes

Macho - Silco x buff!Reader drabble [request] || SFW

Tummy - Silco x Reader || SFW

Silver Fox - Silco x Reader [written for DWM reader, but can be read as gen reader] || SFW but suggestive

Brushing Silco's Hair Drabble - Silco x Reader || SFW

Reading Glasses - Silco x Reader [written for DWM reader but can be read as gen reader] || SFW but a lil steamy at the end

Foam - Silco x Reader [written for DWM reader but can be read as gen reader] || SFW || Modern Coffee Shop ficlet

You Only Get To Watch - Silco x Reader || NSFW || Degradation

5 Sentence NSFW Ficlets [All Silco x Reader]

Drunk Silco pulling the moves on Reader

Silco gagging Reader/Astrid

Silco hurt/comfort [tw: mild injury]

Reader using vibrator on trans!Silco

Silco daddy kink

Silco breeding kink

Pussy drunk Silco

Silco overstimulating reader

Silco cumming prematurely

Silco size kink [reader is smaller]

Silco feeling insecure about his looks/body

Silco getting pegged and loving it

Silco getting a boner during a massage

Reader/Astrid gagging Silco

Silco walking in on Reader masturbating

Silco spanking Reader

Reader finding Silco's teeth sexy

Astrid surprising Silco with lingerie

Silco exchanging sexual favours to get something

Riding a gagged Silco

Licking whipped cream off Silco

Reader/Astrid helping Silco shave in the morning [SFW]

Silco making sweet tender love

Silco tries to take a dick pic

Crack Fics

The Silly Yordle and the Tight Spot! A Classic Children's Story for all ages!

Got Milk? - Singed x Heimerdinger [Singerdinger]

You Shall Not Pass! - bigtits!Gandalf x Heimerdinger [Ganderdinger]

The Sphincter of Zaun - A Silco x Reader farting fic

All ATLA content is posted under pseud FireLily_Z on AO3. Links in title.

These Tides Do Turn - Zuko x Katara

Rating: M || Wc: 233K || Multi-Chap [complete]

Slow Burn || Enemies to Lovers || Angst || Romance || Hurt/Comfort || Trauma*

Katara and Zuko's mission on board The Southern Raiders goes badly wrong, and they are captured and imprisoned in the unforgiving hull of the ship.

Katara now finds herself locked in a small room with a boy that she refuses to trust, and nine years worth of trauma and guilt swimming in her mind. She is resolute in her hostility towards Zuko, but as the horrors of their captivity unfold, an undeniable bond is formed in the quiet moments between their captor's torments.

When they find themselves safely back with their friends on Ember Island, they are both sporting deep scars – old and new, seen and unseen. Katara struggles to reconcile all the pieces of herself and figure out who she truly is. And Zuko continues to battle with his past guilt, and the new guilt that arises from his growing feelings towards Katara.

As their bond deepens – it may be the lifeline they both so desperately need to pull them from the dark waters of their past.

*Potentially triggering content. Please read tags carefully. TWs included at the start of every chapter

A Simple Song on Ember Island - Zuko x Katara

Rating: T || Wc: 6.2K || One-Shot

Romantic Tension || Heart-to-heart || Fluff || Emotional Comfort

Zuko cleared his throat. "Besides… I prefer playing the Pipa."

"Then play for me." She breathed. 

It's a week before Sozin's Comet and neither Katara nor Zuko can sleep. They keep each other company in the Ember Island beach house and Zuko opens up to Katara about something that has been troubling him. Katara discovers that Zuko has been hiding a musical talent...

Hide and Seek - Zuko x Katara

Rating: M || Wc: 3.7K || One-Shot with optional 2nd part [below]

Belligerent Sexual Tension || Angry Kissing || Stuck in a tight spot together

The Gaang are camping out at the Western Air Temple after having just accepted Zuko into their group. But Katara still can't stand the bastard and the pair can't help but bait each other at any opportunity.

One evening Aang suggests a game of hide and seek to resolve the building tension around the campfire. But when Zuko and Katara find themselves stuck in the same, cramped hiding space... things get a little heated.

Play the Game - Zuko x Katara

Rating: E || Wc: 9.8K || Optional part 2 to Hide and Seek [above]

Aged-Up Characters || Sexual Teasing || Voyeurism || Orgasm Denial || Oral || P in V

Katara hates him. She hates him and still she cannot stop thinking about the way Zuko's heated lips had felt on hers in that rushed, hurried tryst – pressed into a tight, dark alcove of the Western Air Temple.

It has been two days since they’d played that stupid game of hide and seek where she'd found herself sharing a cramped hiding spot with Zuko. And the smug, knowing glances he throws her way are driving her crazy.

So she formulates a plan to get her own back on him. Little does she know that she will unwittingly set into motion a series of games that will drive them both to the edge of insanity.

.

.

[buckyownsmylife]

I’ll see you in my dreams - Loki smut

The one where Loki has erased all of your thoughts in an effort to fill them with him and only him.

Warnings: dubcon, sort of amnesiac reader, soft!dark!loki, unprotected sex, reference to past sexual activities, cum, cum eating, dirty talk, a hell of a lot of praise, oral sex (f), p in v, love confessions, breeding kink, implicit references to kidnapping

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: this fic is intended to be some sort of follow-up to my first Loki smut, Burn. It can still be easily understood without previous knowledge of that one, though, as it is almost exclusively pwp.

Something in my dreams woke me up with a startle. I sat up on the bed before I even realized I was awake at all. It took me a while to get my breathing in control, but when it did, the hand over my heart enclosed around my own naked breast and I looked down to see that with the sheet pooled around my waist, it was clear that I was completely bare.

I didn’t like sleeping naked. Did I? For whatever reason, I couldn’t remember. Even if my first instinct was to reject the feeling of the cold silk against my sweaty skin, the longer I considered it, the more uncertain I was of my true opinion on the subject.

I never got the chance to worry too much about it, though - an uncomfortable stickiness between my thighs crying out for attention. I shifted on the bed, trying to understand what it was, before finally relenting and scooping some of it with my fingers. It was white and creamy, but unlike anything that I could remember seeing before.

Not that there was that much that I remembered. But that must be because I was still sleepy, right? I was still taking some time to recognize my surroundings, the luxurious drapes that stopped any sunlight from pouring in, the soft bed that seemed too big to be only mine.

My fingers still absentmindedly explored the unknown liquid between my thighs when the door of the room slammed open, startling me again. “Just what do you think you’re doing, little dove?”

I blinked a few times, staring at the man with the raven hair, hypnotized by his beautiful green eyes. Loki, something deep inside of me recognized, and this feeling of certainty in what had been a confused state of mind up brought indescribable comfort to my soul.

“You know you’re supposed to come looking for me when you’re feeling like that,” he kept talking, unaware of the overwhelming feeling of safety that took over me at remembering him. It was only when he climbed on the bed, forcing my legs apart and taking his place between them, that I understood what he was referring to.

It became even clearer when he seized my wrist, raising my wet fingers to his mouth before enclosing them with his beautiful lips. “Just call out to me next time, darling. You know I’ll always come for you… and I’ll make you cum for me.”

I was still transfixed by the way his lips glistened as he leaned over me again, attaching them to my jaw before slowly licking his way down my throat, my breasts, until he reached my navel.

“Open up those beautiful legs, angel. Let me see you.” My hesitation only lasted a millisecond before I did just what he wanted. I didn’t feel like holding back anymore. I liked his touch on me, the way it made me feel. It was so much better than the confusion I’d felt until he appeared in the bedroom.

“You’re always so ready for me…” His smile was so beautiful when he looked at me from between my legs just before his tongue reached out and spread my lower lips. “And so delicious… Oh, Gods, what have I done to deserve you?”

I didn’t know, and I couldn’t think. Not with his mouth tasting me, exploring the most vulnerable parts of my body and soul. It felt like he was unraveling me, uncovering whatever sins I’d tried to hide just as I let him take my body with eyes, hands and lips.

I was completely his.

“Can’t believe I get to have you like this.” His confession sounded almost too personal for me to hear, and I don’t believe he intended for it to reach my ears, but it did anyway. Just before he made me cum onto his waiting mouth.

He didn’t wait any longer after he brought me to an orgasm. Pushing himself in before my walls had stopped clenching around nothing, he groaned and immediately settled on a punishing pace, like he just couldn’t help himself.

The sounds of our frantic coupling bounced off the walls, making my head spin, and it only added to the dirtiness of the act we were currently performing. “Oh, my love…” He whispered, piercing eyes lost in mine. “Fucking you is everything to me.”

I knew I felt the same. I couldn’t remember anything outside of our movements.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look right now,” he moaned, piercing eyes focused on mine, hampering my ability to focus. “But you’re always beautiful to me. You’ve always been.”

There was a peculiar sense of longing in his tone that didn’t make sense to me, but then again, not much did at that moment. All I knew was that I needed him badly, even if I didn’t understand why.

His lips captured mine once more, hips gaining speed as he drilled his member into me, again and again and again and again. I felt like I was in a dream, floating away, watching from a distance as my body responded instinctively to the man so lovingly defiling me.

“You love everything I give you,” he was almost insistent, hips as persistent as his tone. “You love me.” Unable to speak, I held onto him tightly, fingers biting on his skin as he drove into me repeatedly.

“Loki…” The name escaped my lips without me realizing or even intending to, but the second that his gaze met mine, a large smile on his face, I was grateful that I’d let it slip past my lips.

“Yes, moan my name, my love,” he coaxed, hips unrelenting in their search to meet mine. “I love hearing it fall from your lips like that, so full of devotion.” His eyes skimmed over my face, taking in my expression of bliss. “I’m devoted to you too, darling. Always.”

In this dance of body and soul that we shared, I felt stripped of all inhibitions - particularly since I couldn’t remember a single one I was supposed to have. So when he asked me to moan his name again, I did, because his was the only one I could think of.

“Would you like me to breed you?” His fingers running up and down my jaw brought me back to this moment, the one taking place right then. They moved further up so he could stroke my cheek as he waited for an answer, and maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.

All I knew was that I couldn’t hold back any longer. And perhaps Loki was aware of that, because as my scream of bliss broke the peaceful atmosphere of the room, he groaned, “Yes, my angel. Let’s ruin this bedding together, come for me,” against the shell of my ear.

And so I did. White burning bliss took over me, drowning all of my senses, leaving me only with the pleasure between my thighs, and by the time I got back to the present moment, Loki had stopped moving.

“You’re mine,” he whispered as soon as I opened my eyes, hands cradling my face, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. “All mine. Forever.”

His kiss felt like a permanent seal to his promise, never-ending and powerful. When he finally pulled away, he adjusted me so I’d lay on his chest, hand rubbing circles on my back.

“Can’t wait to wake up next to you,” he whispered as I was almost asleep. “You’re never leaving me.”

[kass-storycorner]

Rainbow Anon~

Hhhhuuuu, those sleeping asks where so cute!? Do you think you could another part with Diluc, Zhongli and Albedo having come home late, but their s/o has a nightmare later on the night due to stress? (hurt/comfort plz lol)

//I said that I needed to stop simping for all of the characters but, I literally cannot physically do that. Everybody is so beautiful;;;!!

Aaaah, hello Rainbow anon! Thank you, I'm glad you liked them!!! Also never stop simping, they really are all beautiful. Genshin is at this point a "character I simp for"-collector haha And now on to the request, thanks for sending this in, I've been struggling with every other piece I've been working on the last days so idk writing these small drabble / bullet point fics is a nice change. Though I have to apologise that the Albedo s/o hc is the only one that actually doesn’t really fulfils the request…

And I didn’t add Zhongli, I had this request for a while now in my drafts, Albedo and Diluc finished but idk I couldn’t come up with something for Zhongli and it frustrated me so now I’m posting it like this 😩

Nighttime headcanon part II. - Nightmare headcanon

Genre: Angst with comfort

Rating: SFW

Content Warnings: none I guess

Characters: Albedo, Diluc,

Format: Bullet points / HC

Albedo

Ah, he did it again. Albedo didn't intend to stay so long at the laboratory inside of the headquarters of the knights again. To be honest he had planned to come home earlier that night, but alas - he didn’t notice the passing of time again until Sucrose knocked on the door, pulling him out of the trance he gets into when he works and reminding him of the time.

When Albedo opened the door to the shared apartment it was already filled with darkness again. A deep sigh left him as he took of his coat and shoes, making his way towards the shared bedroom. He really missed going to bed with you. It was so different than joining in bed, there were no sweet good night kisses nor wishes.

Though when he walked into the bedroom he didn’t expect to see this. Normally you would sleep peacefully, the only noises coming from you would be your snores. But when Albedo saw your sleeping body in bed tonight there seemed nothing peaceful about you.

It looked like you have been tossing and turning in bed for a while, the blanket didn’t cover your body, it was already halfway on the floor. But your face was the give away - you looked so scared.

Slowly Albedo made his way to the bed, sitting down next to you, still in his clothes, not sure what he should do. It would be best to wake you up, wouldn’t it?

“No… don’t”, he heard you whimper. He really should wake you up. But something, maybe it was is damned curiosity, in him wanted to hear more. Albedo wanted to know what scared you so much in your sleep.

“Albedo, please- albedo-“ ah, a sharp pain made it’s way through Albedos heart. What were you having a nightmare about that involved him?

Albedo wanted to know more, wanted to hear more. But he couldn’t stomach how scared you sounded, scared of him, so he gently put his hand on your hair, stroking it in the hopes it might sooth your dream.

However at the touch you woke up, looking directly in Albedos eyes. Before he could say anything tears already made their way down your face, hands and arms wrapping around Albedos waist and hiding your face in his stomach.

“Hey, hey it’s fine. I’m here. It was just a nightmare”, he said in a quite and gentle voice.

But that’s it - it didn’t feel like a nightmare at all to you. The moment you woke up the dream already was forgotten, except for the last thing you saw in it. You remembered the bitter feeling of betrayal, heartbreak and you were so scared. So horribly scared. The last imagine that burned itself into your head was Albedos face, looking at you with an blank expression, his eyes empty from all of the love he had for you. It felt more like a horrible future and not a nightmare.

This was nothing you felt like you could tell Albedo… it sounded quite silly, didn’t it? And the way Albedo looks at you right now, eyes filled with worry but so much love for you. There was no way those eyes would grow cold one day, would there?

Diluc

The last few weeks have been extremely stressful, for you and Diluc. With festivities right around the corner and many new visitors in Mondstadt because of them, Diluc and you had your hands filled.

Diluc for once more as the owner of Dawn Winery than the ‘Dark Knight Hero’ ah how much he despises that name

While yes, the crime rates and suspicious behaviour just grew with the amount of new people that visited Mond - but so did the demand for his alcohol. And after some incidents with slimes and some inefficient knights - Diluc had his hands full, day and night.

And you? You were busy yourself with your work, the festivities tripled your workload too and the worst about it was: there was no time to see Diluc for more than a few minutes awake.

When you went to bed he wasn’t there and when you woke up - rarely the past weeks was he asleep next to you (only once to be honest). Most of the time he was already awake again (or maybe still awake, you couldn’t tell at how short your encounters have become).

Diluc felt horribly guilty about how he didn’t spend any time with you. Yes you both were quite busy the last weeks, but even he could feel how the stress and the lack of your sight slowly tore him down.

So tonight he decided to skip his duties as Mondstadts protector - just for this one night, wanting to spend it with you. But even then, when he arrived home, entering the shared bedroom he saw you already asleep. It wasn’t too late in the evening, but he figured that you were just exhausted. And honestly? He was too.

So Diluc decided to lay down beside you, maybe you both couldn’t spend some time awake again but for now this must be enough. Though Diluc promises to himself that once all of this madness is over again to give you the attention you deserved.

The moment Diluc took his place beside you in bed, he noticed a small shift in your behaviour. Your breathing wasn’t calm like normally and how did Diluc just notice the way your brows furrowed. It looked like you had a nightmare.

Carefully he took you in his arms, hoping to give you the comfort you need for the nightmare to end. But it did not. It seemed like it was just getting worse and when you started to cry in your sleep was when Diluc had enough.

Softly he wiped away the tears, whispering “hey (y/n), it’s fine. Wake up, it’s just a dream, it’s okay”.

His soft touch and quite words woke you up, finding yourself in his arms. What? How and when?

You pressed your face into his chest, taking in his smell. Ah. How much you missed him, all of it. You felt how Diluc planted a kiss on your head.

“Are you alright Darling?”, he asks and you sigh at the sound of his voice, at with how much love and concern in it he asks. You shift a bit, now being able to see in his eyes in the dark. “It’s fine I’m- I’m just stressed.” His thumb trailed the dark circles under your eyes. “To me it seems like you are more than stressed.”

“I just couldn’t sleep because of it that well the last days, it’s fine”, at your words Diluc shot you a look of concern. “It’s not okay, since when do you have these nightmares?”. You hid your face again in his chest before mumbling out your answer. “It’s only when I sleep alone.”

Diluc felt a wave of guilt go through him. Only having those nightmares when you slept alone? Now to come to think of it, Diluc hasn’t slept next to you in the past few days (that idiot hasn’t slept much at all)

Squeezing you in his arms he lays his chin down on your head, promising you that you won’t have to fall asleep alone anymore. And he’s here now. It’s okay.

After a while you fall asleep, Diluc listening to your calm and soft breathing until he falls asleep himself.

Both of you had to wake up early that morning, but when Adeleine walked into the bedroom to wake you - ah, you two looked so peaceful in bed together and she just hadn’t the heart to disturb that peace.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics​ brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room. 

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised. 

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible  even as unshed tears glimmer 

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final. 

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him. 

he lost. 

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs. 

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever. 

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain. 

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple: 

he wants to cry. 

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry. 

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all. 

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours 

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy. 

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions. 

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain. 

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower. 

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right. 

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline. 

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused 

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!! 

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look. 

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips. 

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you. 

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him. 

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word. 

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips. 

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

--

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

taglist: @baepsaetay​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @kookie-vuitton​ @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write​ @fangirl125reader​ @heishichoulevi@knjkitten​ @sacha-cff​ @vik7797  @eusticenatalie​ @hesmyphenominiall​@miriamxsworld​​ @kayahay​ @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @marianeamine​@hqtetsurou​ @protontippens​ @beginwithamin​ @limiworld​  @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi​ @yoontaethings​ @sunshinejunghoseokie​ @delacyrose224​@jiminiesmagicshop​ @hitsussi @fanfictonreader05 @hyungieyoongi​ @lolalee24​

all rights reserved © alpacaparkaseok

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘How the warmth will melt the ice’ - GE Suit Saeran/Reader fic

Title: How the warmth will melt the ice Pairing: Post-canon GE Suit Saeran/Reader (mainly GN with two uses of she/her) Rating: SFW but references to his in-game actions Word Length: 3.4K Summary: post-GE Suit Saeran hasn't seen you in a while, he's been working on stuff in the headspace. One night, he's the only one awake and he's been doing some thinking while you sleep next to him in the bed. Soft, a bit of hurt/comfort. I'm not an expert on DID so please let me know if I've written or phrased something incorrectly!! <3

- 

Saeran had been in the headspace for quite a while. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed out, he just wasn’t sure he trusted himself enough to ever come out, and most definitely not in the company of other people.  He had seen how happy the ‘New’ Saeran had made you, how he treated you with such care and tenderness and considered your feelings above all else. Saeran didn’t trust himself not to ruin it for all of them, especially given his previous actions. They all held that behaviour against him and he was well aware of that, he held it against himself too. He was too angry at the world, and he hadn’t entirely processed that despite all of the time that he had been away. There had been many times where he had criticised Ray for being weak, yet Ray had already been out several times and Saeran never felt brave enough for it. It had also taken him a while to address that, yes, he was perhaps the weakest one out of them all. He never felt like he was ready to properly face his actions even after he had apologised. After all, he was reminded of it every time he saw you through their eyes. He was there every time they brought you food, every time they held your hand, or pulled you into their arms. He was there for all of it. So, sometimes saying ‘sorry’ just wasn’t enough.

He had tried to take over as the host on a few separate occasions while you were at work or out shopping, with the intention of just existing around the house for a little while, but it never worked out so well. He’d sit there for a few minutes, staring at his hands and at what they had done to you before beginning to resent himself even more. Saeran had seen how his hands could hold you with such sweetness and affection, and yet, when he was the one that controlled them they only seemed to inflict destruction upon people. He’d remember that and immediately let the ‘New’ Saeran take over the body, retreating back into his own self-enforced solitary confinement. You were never to know that he had appeared, he made sure that the others were aware of that. Even when you’d asked about him, if he was still in there, he had asked them to speak of him scarcely. He’d see you again in his own time, if he wanted to. He’d always try to ignore the sadness in your eyes when the others told you that, but he thought it was for the best; he’d only ruin the stupid happiness that you had stumbled your way into with the better parts of him.

The night he saw you again, Saeran was the only one awake when he felt you shudder. He blinked, staring at the ceiling for the first time in God knows how long. He hadn’t experienced the world in quite a while, so it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. His first reaction was to complain that he had been woken up at such a time, but he had been trying to work on not jumping to immediate anger when it wasn’t justified. He tried to process his surroundings one at time. He was in bed, next to you. It was dark, probably still night-time, and he could hear the cat downstairs running throughout the corridors. The room smelled faintly of lavender, and he knew that one of the others picked it regularly to help the both of you sleep. He felt you shift. He hadn’t seen you in so long, but even as you laid on the other side of the bed to him, he dared not tilt his head out of fear of waking you. The room was quiet aside from the sound of your breathing, but Saeran stared ahead, rigid. Why had he been the one to wake up? It was not as though there was anything happening that required him in particular, one of the others could have easily woken up instead of him. Someone who was needed.

Saeran moved his eyes to your sleeping form, his breath catching in his throat as you slowly rolled onto your back. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he could have laughed. You were never a graceful sleeper. You had your arms above your head with one leg sticking out from underneath the blanket. Perhaps that meant that you weren’t scared of a monster grabbing your ankle from underneath the bed during the night, maybe you had too much faith in the monster in the first place. He watched you for a few moments, his eyes following each subtle rise and fall of your sleeping chest and wondering how anyone could trust him enough to sleep next to him, to let their guard down so stupidly like that.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you sleeping, but it felt as though it was a lifetime ago that he was watching you through CCTV; something that he could never believe he was actually doing. Something lurched in his stomach at the intrusive memory and he began to spiral like he had done each time he was in control of the body, or thought he was in control of it, anyway. It hurt him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. While it wasn’t him providing it, you were happier now. Healthier. There was no one to take away your food or trap you behind closed doors. No one to scream that your eyes were ugly. It had taken him too long to realise that the only reason he thought your eyes was ugly was because he could see himself reflected back in them. He could see himself screaming the way his mother had screamed at him, screaming the same things.

Saeran didn’t know how the others had managed to process everything so quickly, although he guessed that the fact that he was adamant about doing it in silence, refusing the therapists help, had something to do with it. Part of the reason he had rejected the therapists attempt to speak to him was because that would be admitting that he needed the help, and Saeran had worked so hard to convince himself that he did not need to rely on anyone for so long that he was not ready to let that barrier come down, especially not to someone he did not know. Besides, he had a slight distaste for the fact she had referred to him as ‘the persecutor’, as though he didn’t have a name. He knew that the other alters in the headspace had anger, had a rage for how they had been treated, but it was no longer their priority. They had each chosen to let go of that grudge in order to enjoy the life that lay ahead of them, and beside them. But Saeran was built with so much anger that it felt as though he consisted only of guarded walls lined with barbed wire, so much so that even if someone stupidly attempted to climb those walls, they would not get away unscathed. He had protected himself with that rage and had needed it to retaliate to anyone who had dared hurt them again. He had to be the strongest because he had too frequently been the weakest.

He was breathing a little heavier, probably from all of the thoughts rushing around his already too busy head. But through learned experience, Saeran was very good at staying quiet and tried to keep his breathing steady so he didn’t wake you up and have to explain himself. It wasn’t as though he could just pretend to be one of the others, he wouldn’t do himself a disservice like that. Once he saw that you were still comfortably asleep, he started to relax a little bit, tilting his head in your direction.

He knew the body was used to being in the bed beside you, but it was still his first time experiencing it as himself. It was a weird concept to him. How did the other Saeran do it? Did he sleep right up beside you, holding you? Or maybe he slept on his back too, since Saeran had woken up on his back. What about Ray, did he still cower on the side of the bed, his back pressed up against the wall? Ready to leap out at any sudden noise? Questions he would never ask them, but often wondered the answers to. In the darkness, Saeran felt as though he could be a little more honest with himself; as though it acted as a blanket for his emotions. He had hidden himself in the darkness for so long that there was a certain comfort to it. He couldn’t see what was lurking around the corner, but he also couldn’t be seen by whatever was waiting for him. It was a more equal playing field.

You shifted again, calling his gaze to your hand. You clenched and unclenched and then clenched again, as though something in your dream was requiring your attention. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand in the same way that the others did, but he couldn’t. Primarily, because he didn’t want to wake you, but also because Saeran didn’t think that he deserved to do so. You’d held out your hand to him so many times and each time he’d smacked it away, or worse, used that extended hand against you. His eyes remained focused on it, placed next to your sleeping head, so soft and small in comparison to his own. He sighed at the guilt seeping into his body as he remembered when you had tried to push him away with those hands, pressing them against his chest. At the time, in some sickened sense, it had amused him that you were so easy to physically overpower, and it gave him such a sense of joy that, for the first time, he was the stronger one in a dynamic. Now, he knew it was because your hands were not made to carry such a destructive force. You hadn’t hurt him because you hadn’t wanted to hurt him, you’d pitied him because you could already see the agony that he was writhing in, whereas he was almost blind to it.

Saeran didn’t deserve to, and yet, he wanted to hold your hand. To feel the warmth that was always so denied to him. He was jealous of the others who could do it so freely, who did not have to sit in anguish over it. The guiltless ones, he carried their guilt for them. He guessed that it was the price he had to pay to be allowed to take up the space he called his own, and for the other ones to be able to live so happily. His own hand twitched under the blanket as he slowly freed it from beneath the sheets. He didn’t place it on yours, but gently positioned it on the pillow next to it, just a few inches away. After a moment of consideration, and calculating the risk, Saeran held his breath and slowly moved the side of his finger up against your hand. His own skin was always cold, but yours was so much warmer than he could have imagined. It held so much love, love that he was so undeserving of. He kept his hand frozen against yours, not daring to move it any closer but not wanting to pull it away.

There were so many thoughts and confusing feelings rushing through Saeran’s head, but he was so grounded by your warm touch that he just wanted to fall asleep in it where he knew you could keep him safe and secure. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have allowed himself a little bit of vulnerability while no one was awake to witness it. They couldn’t prove that he had let his guard down. Saeran’s cool eyes focused on the sight of your hands against one another before he started to close his eyes and drift off; comforted by the lavender and the skin to skin contact. He wanted to sleep knowing that you were right beside him, just within his reach.

That was, at least, until he heard soft whimpers coming from your side of the bed. It sounded as though you were crying. He began to panic, pulling his own hand away in case he had somehow hurt you. Although he couldn’t do it audibly, Saeran began to curse himself for being the one who had woken up, it should have been one of the others, someone who wouldn’t ruin everything. You were going to leave him, he was going to be abandoned once again and it was all his fault and-

‘S…Sae-ran…’ You whispered, snapping him out of his myriad of self-destruction. He’d woken you up and you were going to scream when you saw him, reliving the horror that he had put you through. The horror that the others had worked so hard to fix in his place. He froze, the predator becoming the prey and burning up his fight or flight response. It was difficult for him to see in the dark but he was able to hear you moving around in the sheets, before muttering his name once more. Well, it was his name, but he knew you weren’t calling for him. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening, and it quickly occurred to him that you were having a nightmare. What did you have to fear when you were asleep? What creatures haunted your dreams and chased you through the forest? He wondered, briefly, in that sad moment, if he was the one in your nightmare, taunting you and robbing you of your freedom. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t wake you up, then you’d know it was him and not your beloved Saeran. It was him in his place, the wrong one. He couldn’t wake you up, freeing you from one monster and then forcing you straight into the company of another.

‘Pull her closer.’ The thought came to him in a whisper, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own or one of the others. His hands seemed to move on their own as he scooped you up, pulling you against his chest. Was he trembling? He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until he sighed. He had had a lot of practice of not making a sound while breathing. This time, when he breathed, all he could smell was you. Your perfume, your shampoo, even the lipbalm you wore for bed. It was like another drug. He’d had you this close to him before, but never like this, never with the tenderness that he managed on that occasion. It was new for him too, allowing someone to get so close. He thought about how many times he had told you that you smelled disgusting, how you made him feel sick to even be around, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You smelled like a comfort he had never had.

You sleepily hugged him back, entirely unaware of anything except for the soft embrace of arms around your back: protecting you from whatever ailment plagued you in your sleep. After a minute or so of being pressed against his chest, you stopped shaking. His gaze fell to you, taking in the tired features of your face and carefully watching them melt into a happy peace. The two of you laid there in one another’s embrace in the middle of the bed for a while. Saeran felt such utter confliction at the idea of being the one to hold you. He felt guilty, deciding that you only wanted his touch thinking it was the better Saeran, and that he had somehow deceived you by being the one to hold you in his place. And yet, there was an odd sense of pride pooling in his chest that, this time, he was able to help you instead of hurt you. That was a first for him. It was small, and he was uncertain of it, but he had the hope that perhaps he would able to provide the blanket you needed like the others could. He could be the arms to protect you, instead of the ones you needed protecting from.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake to watch you sleep for, but he wanted to savour the private moment while he still could before you knew it was him. ‘Would it be so bad if she did know?’ That same voice said but he did not have the time it ponder it before he felt the effects of the lavender weighing heavy on the air. He thought that, given how much they enjoyed being outside, that one of the others would have opened the window to let some air in before going to bed. Ironic, really. Maybe it was intentional. After all, you weren’t the only one to get nightmares and needed coaxing to go back to sleep. If there was one thing they had all learned from Rika, it was the effectiveness of plants.

His eyes were getting heavy, and Saeran was no longer someone to pass up on the opportunity of sleep when it was offered to him. He had years of it to make up for. While he could, he placed his chin on top of your head, pulling you a little closer as he did so. His heart was thudding so heavily against his ribcage, to the point he thought maybe that would be what’d wake you up, and that would really be a kick in the teeth for him. However, you squeezed yourself closer to him, causing him to release a shaky sigh. You wanted him closer. It was the feeling of your embrace that Saeran felt before falling back asleep, and he noted the fact that this was the first time he was being held. It was… nice. Safe.

That next morning, you awoke to the smell of breakfast, and heard a couple of cluttering pans in the kitchen. While it was pretty usual for Saeran or Ray to bring you breakfast in bed, he was usually pretty quiet about it, so you thought that maybe he was trying a new recipe and that it had gone wrong. You shuffled out of bed, brushing your teeth and washing your face before heading into the kitchen. Saeran stood with his back to you, fully dressed in his usual white shirt and black trousers, facing the oven. His hair was a little messy, but no one rolled out of bed with perfect hair. It was cute.

‘Good morning, my love.’ You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a little kiss into his back before putting the kettle on.

‘Mornin’.’ Saeran replied, casually. You paused for a second, wondering why he didn’t greet you with one of his typical flowery greetings, or at the very least a term of endearment, but brushed it off figuring that he might just be a little bit tired since it was still pretty early.

‘What do you wanna eat?’ He asked as you set two cups down on the breakfast table before pulling your seat out. His tones and mannerisms were a little different than usual, and you thought- No. Both Ray and Saeran assured you that he wasn’t ready yet. Surely, he wouldn’t just turn up one morning without warning.

‘It looks like you tried to make eggs.’ You laughed, his back still towards you as he cracked another egg into the frying pan and discarded the shell to the side of the oven.

‘Yeah, fuckin’ harder than I remember them being.’ He said, which definitely made you do a double take.

‘Who… are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’ You asked tentatively, not wanting to upset whoever the Saeran in front of you was. You knew he didn’t mind your questions since they never came from a place of malice anyway, but you always wanted to be considerate regardless.

He turned around, leaning back up against the kitchen side. He folded his arms but displayed a very distinctive smirk that you had not seen in so long. It was different this time though, his blue eyes were different. They were still tormented and anguished, but it was no longer directed at you. The ice in his eyes had begun to thaw.

‘What? Don’t you recognise me, doll?’

[lesdemonium]

Error Pining

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2750 Summary:   When his djinn wish goes wrong, Jaskier finds himself unable to speak without excruciating pain. Geralt tries to fill the space himself. AN: a gift exchange fic written for @smuggsy for @thewitchersecretsanta. thanks so much for giving me an excuse to write physical whump for jaskier!

read on ao3  Before their argument, Geralt had been hazy, unfocused, and in dire need of sleep. He was still in dire need of rest, but now every sense was on high alert. The smell of blood and pain was so sharp, so strong, it left a metallic taste in his mouth and he just barely resisted the urge to try to clear his tongue of it. His eyes went wide, wild, as he tried to find the source of the blood. In a distant sort of way, he registered that he had been cut in their scuffle, but it wasn’t his blood he smelled. It was Jaskier’s.

Jaskier was doubled over, clutching at his neck, the djinn bottle long forgotten on the ground. His eyes met Geralt’s and he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out before he was blinking away tears and dry heaving onto the ground. The hand around his throat was so tight Geralt wondered at how he could breathe, had a wild thought that maybe it was Jaskier’s own hand that was causing his scent to spike in pain and fear.

“Jaskier, what’s happened?” Geralt asked, bending over and hauling Jaskier back up by the collar of his doublet. Jaskier went, and when he tried to speak again, only a weak whimper came out before his face contorted in pain. His hands scrabbled at his throat and his eyes were so wide Geralt felt like all he could see was white, white, white.

“We’ll fix this, whatever it is,” Geralt promised him. Jaskier nodded weakly back.

They made it to the elf, Chireadan, who was less help than Geralt was hoping for. He asked Jaskier questions, and every time Jaskier attempted to answer, the same bitter taste of blood and pain and fear settled heavily within Geralt. The third time it happened, Geralt nearly punched Chireadan. Couldn’t he see this was hurting Jaskier?

“He can’t talk,” Chireadan finally settled on, and the look Geralt gave him must have been murderous, because he took a step back when their eyes met. “I can’t tell you more than that. Its origin is magical, and I have nothing that can reverse it. Something is ripping apart his throat whenever he talks.”

Jaskier let out a muffled hum, a desperate sound, that soon choked out and was replaced with the heavy scent of blood. 

“Sounds like not only when he talks,” Geralt said, and Chireadan’s grimace seemed to agree.

They were sent to a witch, Yennefer, but she wasn’t much help, either. She tried through the night, with Jaskier in a deep sleep, but when he awoke, nothing had changed. 

“I can’t do anything until you open your mouth to speak, bard,” Yennefer told them, and to her credit, she did look at least a bit remorseful. Or perhaps simply annoyed her magic couldn’t solve it. “Since I highly doubt you want to be singing as I fix you, there’s not much I can do for you.”

“Then how do we fix this?” Geralt asked, his voice tight.

Yennefer smiled and patted Jaskier’s hand condescendingly. “Have you considered a vocational change?”

They left, Jaskier silent and mourning beside Geralt. Yennefer’s advice was to track down another djinn, as Jaskier was unable to make the wish himself. Geralt thought this was a fool’s errand, and that Vesemir would be more help.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt said as they laid down to sleep that night.

Jaskier’s response was to turn over and go to sleep.

--

Traveling with a silent Jaskier was difficult for both of them. Every time Geralt looked at Jaskier, he seemed dimmer. At first, he still played his lute, but as they continued to travel and Jaskier’s throat continued to rip itself apart whenever he made even the softest hum, even that seemed to lose appeal to the bard. In taverns, Jaskier stared down at his mug, surviving the evening until he could turn in.

Geralt found he missed the sound. The silence beside him was uncomfortable, and made Geralt feel hollow. This felt as if it was his fault, as if he was the one hurting Jaskier whenever he made a sound. If he hadn’t been looking for the Djinn in the first place, Jaskier’s wish wouldn’t have backfired, and now Geralt wouldn’t have become acquainted with Jaskier’s forlorn face.

It took three days for Geralt to start talking, instead.

“Did I ever tell you about the griffin I fought outside Carrera?” Geralt said, offhand, as they traveled one day. 

He chanced a glance at Jaskier, only to find the bard staring back at him, a curious expression on Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s lips were pressed tightly together, as if he was trying to remind himself not to speak up, and he squinted at Geralt. He looked almost suspicious. Geralt didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often that Geralt offered up his stories without a request, but Jaskier deserved something, and Geralt couldn't take the silence anymore.

So he told the tale, sparing no detail. At some point, Jaskier took out a notebook, and furiously scribbled the tale down. Often, Geralt had to stop, think about what sort of questions Jaskier would normally ask him, and try to answer them on his own. By the end of his tale, Jaskier was smiling. Despite his discomfort, Geralt smiled back. The remainder of the day was easier to bear.

As they traveled, Geralt told Jaskier of his contracts, as many as he could think of that Jaskier hadn’t already been there for. When he couldn’t think of a new story, he explained to Jaskier the difference between the vampire types, or the exact effects Swallow had on him. He felt silly, like he was play-acting as a professor, but it made the time go by faster. It also made Jaskier lighter, brighter, and eased something inside Geralt.

At night, when they were safely at camp, Jaskier began to play his lute again. Initially, they were the same songs Geralt had heard before. Jaskier’s songs, famous ballads written by other bards, lively drinking songs. As their travel wore on, though, Geralt began to hear songs he had never heard before. Soft, mournful things. Jaskier never met Geralt’s eye when he played these songs, but he did sit close to Geralt, so close that sometimes their arms would brush as Jaskier shifted up and down his lute. Geralt liked these songs best. He hoped, one day, he would get to hear Jaskier sing them.

These nights made Geralt brave.

“I ran into Eskel here, once,” he said. Jaskier didn’t stop playing, but he did look up, his eyes wide, his face open. “I don’t cross paths with the other witchers as much as I would like. You would like Eskel. He plays nice far better than I could. Doesn’t need a bard around to keep him in line around nobles.”

Jaskier bumped Geralt’s shoulder and they shared a grin. Geralt turned his gaze back to the fire and took a deep breath, but a moment later Jaskier nudged him again, this time with his knee.

“Yes, okay,” Geralt said, nodding. “I’ll go on. We were in the trials together. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to family.” Until now, his mind helpfully supplied. Geralt cleared his throat, as if to smother the thought. “You really would like him. He’s… thoughtful. Polite. Keeps his temper better. A better witcher, too. He’d make a better subject for your songs.”

Jaskier stopped playing abruptly. He placed his lute gingerly back in its case, then leaned into Geralt’s side. His arm snaked around Geralt’s, intertwining them before he fit their fingers together. Like they belonged there. Like their hands had always been meant to hold each other.

When Geralt looked up, his mouth felt dry. Jaskier’s eyes were so big, so beautiful, and he felt like he could see everything Jaskier couldn’t say in them. Geralt swallowed, heavily, and tried to speak for them himself.

“I’m.” He paused, wet his lips, tried again. “I’m glad you’re here. You make it easier. I feel less… alone.”

Geralt looked away, now. Back at the fire. Jaskier didn’t nudge him back this time, and didn't try to get his attention. Instead, he hesitated only a second--Geralt could feel the way he started, then stopped, then started again--and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. They stayed like that until Jaskier’s yawns could no longer be ignored, and they had to turn in for the night.

--

Geralt missed Jaskier’s voice most in the morning.

It was no secret that Jaskier was terrible when he first woke up. Grouchy, whiny, wheedling every which way. He hated mornings and he hated getting up early and would always be dead to the world for the first hour or so that he was awake.

Despite this, he always wished Geralt a good morning, even if it was gruff and his smile was more of a grimace. As he started to wake up, he’d often tell Geralt about his more ridiculous dreams. Often, Geralt was sure he had fabricated them entirely, just to make Geralt roll his eyes.

Now, Jaskier always woke up in pain. He’d groan first thing in the morning, or whine, or make some other sort of noise, and immediately his entire body would seize up in pain. Geralt had gotten softer in his approach to waking Jaskier up, trying to ease him into consciousness, to avoid the pain. It worked sometimes, but Jaskier was still too hazy upon first waking to remember why he couldn’t make noise. Then his eyes would fill with unshed tears as he desperately held out his hand for the waterskin. It didn’t seem to help, but at least it was an action Jaskier could take.

They survived. Hearing Jaskier’s silence never got easier, still left Geralt feeling hollow, but it became easier to fill the silences himself. Jaskier got better at expressing himself through the way he touched Geralt. Geralt had a feeling that had never been a skill Jaskier lacked, per se, but that he had only recently been allowed to touch Geralt. Now, he was taking his fill.

Geralt wondered how much time he had lost without Jaskier’s easy affection.

To get Geralt’s attention, Jaskier would grab his knee as Geralt road Roach, or press a hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades. He fingered Geralt’s sleeve nervously when they were in taverns and he had nothing to do with his hands. He would take Geralt’s hand as they walked through a crowd so they didn’t lose each other.

Geralt’s favorite touches, though, were still in front of their campfire. The trees around them, the stars in the night sky, the light of the fire and the way it crackled, all of it was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to the way Jaskier leaned against Geralt. Jaskier pressed himself into Geralt’s side, often allowing Geralt to wrap his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder or waist. Jaskier would play his lute, would play his soft, lovely songs, that had grown more hopeful as time went on. Geralt would tell Jaskier stories about growing up, about trouble he, Lambert, Eskel, the other wolves, had gotten into. He told Jaskier about the trials and let Jaskier comb his fingers through Geralt’s hair to comfort him, though Geralt insisted he didn’t need comforting. He told Jaskier about Renfri, about Blaviken, about his mother. Geralt told Jaskier everything.

Everything except about the way his heart hammered in his chest as Jaskier looked at him. Everything except how he sometimes dreamed of Jaskier’s voice, and woke up with a longing he couldn’t put to words. Everything except how he wanted, more than anything, to kiss Jaskier, but couldn’t be sure what Jaskier wanted.

“Can I… be honest with you?” Geralt asked one night. 

Jaskier turned to him just enough to roll his eyes at Geralt. As if Jaskier could stop him, the look seemed to say. Jaskier turned back to his lute, but his playing got softer, as if he was trying to give Geralt the space to speak.

“Right,” Geralt said. He paused, took a deep breath, rubbed the hem of Jaskier’s shirt between his fingers. “I don’t. I don’t know if Vesemir can help.”

Jaskier stopped playing and stiffened somewhat. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t put his lute down. Only stopped and waited.

Geralt swallowed thickly. “I hope he can. I think he’s our best bet. But, short of finding another djinn for me to make a wish… I don’t know how fixable this is. Unless we went back to Yennefer and had her heal you while you sing--” Jaskier let out a shiver and the stench of fear overwhelmed Geralt. “I know. It’s not good. But I don’t know how else to fix you if Vesemir has no ideas.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. He remained stiff against Geralt, but now he started playing again. His song was sad, mournful again, and Geralt’s heart ached with it. He wished, more than anything, that he could fix this.

“I’m not giving up,” Geralt whispered, some time later. “We’ll find something else to try. We’ll fix this eventually.”

The sound Jaskier made wasn’t quite a scoff. It was more a sharp exhalation, dismissive and--maybe Geralt was reaching here--a bit wounded. Geralt lifted his hand, hesitated a moment, then ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier leaned back into the motion, until his head fell back on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I mean it, Jask,” he said. His mouth felt dry again. “I miss your voice. I miss the lyrics that would go with your songs, even the ridiculous ones. I miss your jokes, your incessant complaining, the way you flirt with everyone and sometimes wink at me as you do it.”

Jaskier pulled away, and Geralt froze. Apparently, he had overstepped somewhere. He forced himself to look at Jaskier, but instead of discomfort or disgust, he found shock. Awe. Jaskier put his lute away, his fingers lingering on the clasps of his case, then he returned to Geralt’s side. After another moment of hesitation, Jaskier shifted, climbing over Geralt’s lap. Jaskier cradled Geralt’s face with feather-light touches as he leaned in, pressed their foreheads together.

“Jaskier, I--” Geralt started. 

Geralt trailed off, then wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist. He didn’t know how to accept this from Jaskier verbally, he didn’t know what to say, but he could hold him. Jaskier let out a relieved breath, and Geralt felt the gust of air against his lips. Geralt touched his fingers to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier pressed a hand to Geralt’s heart.

“You’re so much better at words than I am. I wish--” He trailed off again, thumbed along Jaskier’s cheekbone, held the back of his head. “You can’t tell me what you want.”

Jaskier’s breath sounded almost like a laugh, just before he leaned in to touch their lips together. The kiss was short, simply a way to test the waters. Jaskier pulled away, only for Geralt to drag him back in for more. Jaskier sighed into Geralt’s mouth and Geralt swallowed the sound, wished desperately he could hear more, wanted to see what all he could pull from Jaskier’s throat.

It was this thought that had Geralt pulling away. Jaskier’s eyes looked hazy, his smile dopey and big, as he stroked the side of Geralt’s face and his hair. He looked the happiest Geralt had seen him in months, since before the djinn had taken away his voice. Geralt kissed him again. And again. And again. Jaskier accepted every time.

“I wish you could talk. I want to hear your voice,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s mouth.

Jaskier whined a little, then reared back, just as Geralt flinched away, his arm suddenly burning. Jaskier’s hands flew to his throat and Geralt ripped back his sleeve to see a second mark, just beside the long-forgotten injury he had gotten when they squabbled over the amphora. Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed as he considered the mark, wondered after what in the world caused it, only for his focus to be dragged away by Jaskier.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, and his face broke out into the most brilliant grin. “What--I can talk again. It doesn’t hurt at all!”

Jaskier was still laughing as he dragged Geralt in for another kiss, which Geralt readily accepted. This time, he didn’t hold back any of his sounds. Each one was more beautiful than the last.

[supernatural-fangirl1967]

Hold on to Me

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Fluff

Word Count: 1,537

Anonymous Request:  Hi! Could I request a fic where the reader has a nightmare and wakes up already having a panic attack. Dean wakes up and tries to help but gets worried because he thinks she’s gonna pass out because she can’t manage to calm down. Lots of fluff and cuddles once she finally does calm down. Please and thank you!

Square Filled: Cuddling

A/N: This was written for @spnfluffbingo. Please let me know what you think!

Your lungs burn as you race across the dark building. When you and Sam finally got a location on Dean, you took off out the motel room door almost leaving Sam there. When your eyes land on Dean's pale form, your heart drops. He's been missing for almost a week after being attacked by a Djinn, and if it hasn't already drained the life out of him, it almost has.

"Dean," you sob and you reach into your pocket to find a knife. You cut him down but you're not able to hold up his weight, so you gently lower him to the dirty floor. "Sam!" you holler, hoping that there's no danger now that he's killed the monster. You turn your attention to Dean when you feel his hand slowly move against yours. "Hey," you say and you give him a small smile. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? But you've gotta stay awake for me, baby." Dean's eyes start to slide shut, causing you to panic even more than you already are. "Dean. Dean! Open your eyes."

He's so pale and that faint pulse that you feel underneath your fingertips is getting weaker and weaker. Dean's body goes limp in your arms causing you to panic.

"Dean!" you scream. "No. No. No! Open your eyes! Baby, look at me. Open your eyes! Dean!" The tears are streaming down your face and your heart is racing. You feel sick to your stomach and like you're going to pass out.

"No. No!" you scream out as you unwillingly sit up in bed. Your heart is racing and you're afraid that you're going to get sick.

"Baby?" Dean asks softly as he sets a hand onto your shoulder. You hide your face into your hands as you start hyperventilating. "Hey, what happened, sweetheart?"

"I thought... You were..." Your throat feels like it's tightening up on you and you can't breathe right.

"Alright. It's alright," Dean whispers as he pulls you in and holds you tightly to him. "Just calm down." Dean presses a kiss to your head and he rubs a hand up and down your arm. "Please, sweetheart, you've gotta calm down or you're gonna pass out on me." You're crying so hard that you can't breathe and Dean, bless his heart, is trying everything that he can to calm you down some.

"My head hurts," you croak out as you cling tightly onto Dean.

"It's from where you're so upset right now, honey," Dean whispers. "You've got to calm down a bit."

"I'm... trying."

"I know you are but you're gonna pass out on me if you don't slow your breathing." Dean tells you softly as he presses a kiss to your head. "Hey, whatever happened is not real but this is, alright?  I'm right here and we're both okay, sweetheart."

"It was real," you breathe out as tears roll down your cheeks. "The Djinn."

"Sweetheart," Dean breathes out. You let out a loud sob causing Dean's heart to break. "I'm alright now. Thanks to you and Sam for finding me and getting me to the hospital. You saved my life, baby. You took care of me. That's what we do for each other isn't it. Take care of each other?" You nod and Dean tightens his arms around you. "I'm right here because you took care of me, sweetheart," Dean whispers softly to you.

Your head still feels all fuzzy and your throat is tight. "I can't..."

"Feel," Dean tells you as he gently grabs onto your hand and presses it over his heart. "You feel that?" You nod and swallow hard. "That's because of you," Dean whispers as he uses his free hand to gently push some of your hair out of your eyes.

"I'm gonna be sick," you groan as you squeeze your eyes shut. Dean takes a deep breath and pulls you in tightly to him so that you're able to feel his chest rising and falling. You know what he's doing and yet you can't get yourself calmed down enough to follow his lead.

"Honey, please," Dean begs. "I know that you're upset but I need you to calm down for me so that you don't pass out." He's holding you like you're a baby and you're clinging tightly onto his neck for dear life. "Hey, do you remember the day you and I met?"

"Yeah," you choke out. "I know... what you're trying... to do."

"Good," Dean chuckles as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. "You were this shy, gorgeous little thing. Well, not much is different now except that you're even more gorgeous and you're not too shy anymore. Being with me might have something to do with that." You can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "Ah, I like that sound," Dean smiles widely as he presses his lips firmly to your cheek. "You thought that I was stalking you when truthfully I was after the monster who actually was stalking you. Little did I know you knew something was after you and you were playing bait. You were wanting it to make it's move so you could knock it off of it's feet like you did for me. In more ways then one I might add." Dean smirks causing you to roll your eyes a bit at him. Even now he can't stop flirting with you. "What you didn't know was that the person you thought was after you was in fact a big scary monster," Dean chuckles. "I didn't think that I was ever going to convince  you  that a werewolf was after you."

"I called you an idiot for a while," you laugh.

"Still do," Dean chuckles.

"Only when you deserve it," you smile.

"Shh, I'm trying to get to the good part here," Dean smiles. "Where was I? Oh, right. As I was laying there on the pavement after this tiny little girl had flattened me out, effectively knocking the wind out of me, I thought to myself I am not letting this one go."

"And they all lived happily ever after," you smile. Dean chuckles as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips.

"Better now, darlin'?"

"Yeah," you smile softly at Dean as you relax a bit in his hold. "Only because you make it all better."

"Happy to help," Dean whispers as he moves so that you're both laying down. You try and sit up but Dean's arms stop you.

"I don't want to go to sleep," you tell him. "I don't want to have to live through that anymore."

"You've gotta get your beauty rest or else you'll be embarrassed to be seen beside of me," Dean smirks.

"Dork," you laugh as you playfully slap him.

"Alright, you don't have to go to sleep if you don't want to," Dean tells you softly as his eyes hold your gaze. "But I wanna lay like this with you in my arms for a while."

"But if I lay down then I'm gonna go to sleep."

"That's my plan," Dean chuckles. "Sweetheart, I am right here. All you've gotta do is just relax and allow me to love on you some, alright?" You're quiet for a while before you finally nod your head a bit at Dean.

"Okay," you breathe out before laying your head over onto his chest. Dean presses a kiss to your hairline and he tightens his arms around you.

"Do you know that I love you?"

"Well, it isn't like you tell me so about a gazillion times a day."

Dean chuckles as he rubs his nose up against yours. "You're amazing."

"No I'm not."

"Sweetheart, you took on the big job of putting up with me everyday," Dean smiles. "That takes someone special."

You giggle and move your head to hid your face in Dean's neck. "Well, I have a little bit of help when you and Sam go on a hunt. He has to keep you in line for me then."

"You're talking like I'm some five year old little boy," Dean chuckles.

"Oh, no, you're worse than a five year old little boy," you say and you give Dean a wide smile. You squeal out when Dean moves his fingers along your side. "Stop!" you laugh as you try and push Dean's hand away.

"Make me," Dean chuckles.

"Alright," you smile before you lean in to press your lips to Dean's. Dean chuckles and quits tickling you so that he can tangle his hand up in your hair. When you slowly pull away, you're both breathless and Dean smiles widely at you.

"Okay, I'll let you win."

You laugh and you let yourself relax in Dean's arms a bit more. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Promise that you've got me?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Dean whispers as a wide smile spreads across his face. "Promise, honey. I've got you."

"I am safe?"

"You're safe."

"I'm yours?"

"You're mine."

"One more thing?"

"Anything," Dean grins.

"Hold on to me?"

"Absolutely," Dean breathes out.

"Don't let go?"

Dean chuckles as he tightens his arms around you as much as he can before whispering softly in your ear. "I wouldn't dream of it, baby girl."

Tags: @polina-93 @campingmonkey @justanotherwinchester @squirrelnotsam @adoptdontshoppets @imaginationisgrowth @deanwanddamons @hobby27 @cookiechipdough @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @torn-and-frayed @thatmotleygirl @screechingartisancashbailiff

[salty-rey]

Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice. 

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations. 

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey. 

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue. 

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends. 

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka “Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer. 

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance. 

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone. 

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers. 

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up. 

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music. 

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation! 

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp. 

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder. 

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in. 

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long. 

It will be much longer. 

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them. 

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing. 

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock. 

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.” 

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry. 

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector. 

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge. 

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.” 

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion? 

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams. 

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives. 

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh. 

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features. 

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving. 

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago. 

.

.

.

.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here. 

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now. 

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon. 

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn. 

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue. 

“That’s my songbird!!!” 

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears. 

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics. 

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.” 

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits. 

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words. 

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now. 

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage. 

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix. 

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears. 

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his. 

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor. 

“I love you, Fives.” 

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands. 

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you. 

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred. 

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening. 

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

[weasleylangs]

in the summer sun - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader but honestly it’s just a whole Weasley family slice of life fic. Summary: The war has ended and the Weasley’s appreciate their family now more than ever. Warnings: Mention of the war, mention of Fred having a near death experience, mention of PTSD, anxiety, nightmares and injuries, opening scene involves an anxiety attack, fuck is said twice by the way. Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This fic is inspired by this ask I received from Kai @weasleyclaw for the ‘send me a made up title game’! The warnings sound scary, but I promise this is a super fluffy slice-of-life fic with Fred and the reader, just existing after the war! Fred lives, obviously but he still had an accident and in reality, he’d be going through a lot of shit and I didn’t want to ignore that!

I am in no way romanticising mental illness and trauma, I myself struggle with a variety of mental illness and trauma and representation is super important, babey!!!!!! Proper support is important!!!!!!

I still can’t decide if I love or hate this but.... [schedules while I’m asleep]

----------------------

Fred sat up quickly. Heavy and ragged breathing coursing through his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. He couldn’t even remember what he was dreaming of now that he’s awake, only remembering flashes of green and a loud ‘bombarda maxima’ before being shocked awake by his anxiety and fear.

He’s been plagued by nightmares for three months, ever since he was fighting in that seventh floor corridor and the wall came crashing down on him. He knows it’s normal to be haunted by these memories, he almost died, for crying out loud, but he would really like to have one night where he sleeps through it without being jolted awake. 

He could feel the pressure in his chest get stronger as he struggled to breathe as he checked the clock on the bedside table. It reads 6:30am and when he looks out the window he realises the sun is already rising and the summer heat is making it into their bedroom. His girlfriend of five years sleeps in the bed next to him, snoring lightly having not been woken up by his oncoming anxiety attack.

Fred struggles to remember the grounding technique she taught him when he had his first attack. She’s his biggest supporter, always there when he needs her, but he wants to get better himself . He doesn't want to rely on her for the rest of his days no matter how often she reminds him it’s okay and that she wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.

He’s got his legs swung over the side of the bed, his body closing in on himself when he feels the bed move and arms wrap around his middle, “Breathe, Freddie, and tell me five things you can see,” she whispers gently in his ear.

His eyes darts around the room, searching as he tries his best to breathe, “The tree outside our window, the lamp, that chair,” he struggles to speak as his breathing is laboured, “your book on my bedside table, my slippers…”

“Good job, my love. Now, four things you can touch.”

His hands grab hers, “Your hands,” he says as he turns to face her, “the duvet, my shirt and…” His hand moves, from her hand to cupping her face, “your hair.” 

This continues, Fred rattling off three things he can hear, two things he can smell and one thing he can taste before he realises his breathing has slowed down, his hands have stopped shaking and while the pressure in his chest is still there, it’s been alleviated and he knows it’ll disappear in a few moments. 

Y/N whispers soft praise in Fred’s ear as she lays him back down in their bed. She’s so proud of the progress he has made in just a short few months. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shakes his head, while he barely remembers, he knows it’s the same nightmare as usual. Hogwarts, duelling, wall comes crashing down and Fred almost dies. It’s more of a flashback if anything, that he’s constantly reliving the worst day of his life.

“That’s okay, we can just lay here and rest before we go to your mum and dad’s… If you still feel up to going?” Y/N knows when nights like this happen, Fred usually wants to stay in bed and recoup his energy and try again the next day. 

“No, no, we have to go,” he says and it’s not because it’s an obligation, he truly does want to. After almost dying, after spending almost a year without knowing if Ron, Harry and Hermione were okay, after Bellatrix Lestrange threatened to kill both Ginny and his own mother and with Percy reconnecting with them all, he appreciates family time like he never did before. They all deserve to have happy, carefree and relaxing days and that’s what today is meant to be for them all.

“If you’re sure, my love,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. Fred probably won't fall back asleep, the sun has risen and while he won’t admit it, he’s too scared to try and sleep again. But he doesn’t mind, he’s perfectly content having Y/N fall back asleep in his arms and sometimes, rarely but sometimes, her soft snores lulls Fred into a light, undisturbed sleep.

-

It’s lunch time by the time Fred and Y/N apparate to The Burrow. Fred’s still recovering physically from his injuries - having your entire body crushed by rubble does that to you, so he happily side-along apparates with Y/N instead of solo floo’ing places. 

When they walk into the house, they’re met with a chorus of hello’s and Molly dragging Fred into a hug and kisses his cheeks repeatedly, and then continues to complain that he has no meat on his bones and that he needs to be eating more while shoving a muffin into his hand. 

George is snickering by the table because someone who isn’t himself is finally being on the receiving end of his mothers affection and he has Angelina Johnson awkwardly beside him. When Y/N raises her eyebrows at him, he mouths a ‘I’ll explain later’ before winking and walking Angelina over to her. 

“Hey, Angie,” she says, pulling the girl into a hug. While they were never close at school, considering Y/N wasn’t a Gryffindor, they still got along when the time arose, “didn’t know my little Georgie here got himself a bird.” 

George groans at the fact Y/N completely ignored him and Angelina blushes as she tries to hide her face behind her hair, but Y/N can see that she’s smiling and not at all bothered by the teasing, “Hey, I’m only teasing, come here!” she says as she pulls the embarrassed girl into a tight embrace. While Y/N drops the subject of Angelina and George finally getting their lives together and dating after years of pining, George knows Y/N is going to corner him later and get the answers out of him.

Hermione and Ginny quickly run down the stairs and grab Y/N, pulling her into a hug as well. Soon enough, the entire family is trying to squeeze inside the living room - including Bill and Fleur who always turn up for the Weasley get together and even Charlie has taken extended leave from his job in Romania to stay and spend the summer with everyone. 

Because of the overcrowding, Ron whistles loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Who wants to play a game of quidditch and let mum have some peace and quiet?” Immediately Harry, the twins, Angelina and Charlie are out the door, already fighting about teams and position. Y/N briefly hears Harry whine ‘I want to be on Charlie’s team but he plays seeker’ as their voices fade. Ginny stays back, wanting to catch up with Y/N for a bit and promises to join everyone later.

Fred loves nothing more than spending time with his siblings. Growing up as a twin, he’s had someone constantly by his side, but he loves his huge family more than anything. George and he spend 5 minutes fighting over who gets to be beater until they just decide they’ll just be on different teams before they realise they don’t have enough siblings for a full team anyway, meaning the beaters are out of the equation.

This causes the twins to just start jokingly fighting over who plays chaser before Ron and Harry has to break it up so they can actually play. 

Fred adores flying. His hair has been growing out and the wind through it as he flies is one of the best feelings in the world, he thinks. It makes him forget all his worries, his only focus is snatching the quaffle out of George’s slimy grip and getting it past Charlie, who’s playing both keeper and seeker for the other team to make up for the lack of players.

“Oi, Ickle Ronnikins,” he calls out from his broom, wobbling slightly as he yells to get his brother’s attention, “mind paying attention to the match and not your girlfriend? George is getting every shot in, mate,” He’s teasing of course. They can see the girls through the window and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t sneaking glances at Y/N.

Meanwhile, the three girls sit at the kitchen table chatting amongst themselves and Bill and Fleur are outside in the garden when Percy and his girlfriend turn up. There’s tension in the air, there always is when Percy turns up. It’s not that no one wants him there, but given his history of being a ‘right prat’ (Fred’s words), everyone is cautious. 

But he goes right up to Molly, pulling her into an embrace and kissing her on the cheek and then turns to his dad and gives him a hug. 

“Hey Gin, Y/N, Hermione,” he gives them a curt nod as they say hello back before pulling the girl beside him closer, “this is Audrey, my girlfriend. Do you guys mind hanging with her while I go find the boys?"

The girls, of course, nod. “How long have you and Percy been together for?” Y/N asks as the girl sits and she hopes she isn’t coming off rude. She’s been with Fred for five years and never met Audrey and Hermione’s been in the Weasley’s lives for even longer, so it’s clearly a recent development. 

“Around this time last year… With everything going on and Percy not being on speaking terms with everyone, we haven’t really had the chance to meet…” she trails off and Y/N senses the awkward tension rising, so she grabs Audrey’s hand in a reassuring matter.

“Don’t stress about that. You’re here now and you’re family,” while Y/N isn’t officially a Weasley, her and Fred have spoken about their future together on numerous occasions so she doesn’t feel like she’s speaking out of turn offering ‘Weasley Family Status’ to Audrey, “I’m Y/N, Fred’s girlfriend.” 

“And I’m Hermione, Ron’s girlfriend,” Hermione adds and before Ginny even speaks, Y/N interrupts her, “You’re obviously a Weasley, Gin,” and the girls all start giggling.

“I’m Ginny, Harry’s girlfriend!” she exclaims proudly when all the girls finally calm down and it only sets them off again.

What the girls don’t notice is that Molly’s watching them, with a smile on her face. She’s always wanted daughters - she loves Ginny and she loves every single one of her sons, but she wishes she had been able to give her a sister. But watching the scene unfold in front of her, how these girls welcome Audrey so easily into their lives, Molly’s eyes well with tears as she realises she has the most wonderful daughter and future daughter-in-laws a woman could ask for. 

“How’s Fred doing?” Ginny asks. Of course, everyone’s suffered from the war, but everyone is constantly concerned about Fred. 

“Between seeing his psychologist and his physical therapy appointments, he’s doing really good,” she says, looking out the window and she laughs as she sees Fred holding Ron in a headlock, shouting something about how rusty he is at keeper, “there’s days it’s hard, and he has really bad nightmares sometimes, and there's days where they make him not want to leave the house but he had one this morning and was determined to get here today. I’m really proud of him.” 

Molly rubs Y/N on the shoulders, almost like a thank you for being there for Fred through it all as she places muffins in front of all the girls and takes her own seat. She takes a moment to scold Arthur for trying to repair the muggle radio playing he’s stolen from work before joining in on the girls’ conversation as they eat. 

The sweet moment is interrupted by a voice that is clearly Percy’s shouting and both Y/N and Audrey’s automatic assumption is that the worst has happened. Especially when Y/N hears the familiar voice of her boyfriend shouting incoherently. 

All the girls rush out the door, expecting to break up a fight but that isn’t what’s happening. Instead, Fred has Percy on the ground, rolling around in dirt and they’re both laughing . Molly has to excuse herself, tears welling in her eyes at the sight of Percy being accepted by his brother. 

“What’s going on here?” Audrey questions. It’s clear she’s still weary, worried that at a moment's notice, Percy’s siblings will turn on him and forget his apology. Fred looks up, winking at Y/N before looking at Audrey and flashes her a cheeky smirk, “Perce said I suck at quidditch.” 

Everyone rolls their eyes at this as Y/N grabs Fred’s hand and pulls him up. She lives with him, so one would think that the time spent apart at The Burrow is no big deal, but secretly Y/N has always been super clingy, wanting to always have Fred in her sights, and it's only worsened now they live together.

“Hi Freddie,” she giggles, tucking herself close to his side despite the summer heat blasting down on them, “I miss you.” she whispers.

Fred lets out a cackle of a laugh, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leading her to the tree they always sit under as he tells Ginny to take his spot on their makeshift quidditch team. Secretly, he was hoping to get away from the game because he needs a break and maybe an attempted nap under the tree. 

He settles down first, stretching his legs out as he leans against the trunk and then he pulls Y/N down to sit between them and to rest her back against his chest. This has always been their favourite way to cuddle.

“What’s the go with George and Angie? I knew they were going on dates but...” Fred asks, and Y/N shrugs. “He just said he’d fill me in later so I’m still waiting. But she’s at family day, so it must be getting serious.” Fred hums behind her, resting his chin on top of his head as he watches his family on the makeshift field in front of them fight over quidditch rules. George is trying to teach Percy fake rules and Ginny’s smacking him over the head as he laughs at the confused expression on Percy’s face. 

To their right, Arthur’s got the radio working and he’s charmed it to blast 80s muggle music loudly for the entire family to hear. Bill’s dragged Fleur to dance around with him and Arthur’s trying to get Molly to join them. Charlie’s sitting with Audrey and Hermione, probably droning on about dragons as usual and the girls listen intently, gasping when appropriate. 

“What are you thinking about?” Y/N asks. Fred is never this quiet, usually speaking every single thought that comes to his mind without any sort of filter. It’s gotten him in trouble a fair few times, from both his mother and Y/N. 

“I’m just happy,” he says quietly, tucking his head into her neck, and Y/N doesn’t miss the crack in his voice, “I’m so happy I’m here with everyone.” She shuffles in her spot so she can sit and face Fred and he can’t meet her eyes because his own are welling with tears.

“Don’t hide, my love, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she coos as she cups his cheeks in her hands. He leans into her touch and smiles as he sniffles. 

“I know, it’s just…” He trails off and Y/N knows what he’s going to say. He almost wasn’t here and that thought haunts the both of them more often than they’d like to admit. “I know, but that doesn’t matter, because you’re here , and I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am you are,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheeks.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says and Y/N’s heart swells. Marriage and lots of ginger babies has always been in their life plan, but hearing Fred say it, so, so vulnerably, almost brings her to tears. “Forever, Freddie, you promised,” she replies and he leans forward and presses a soft kiss on her lips. 

He’s always promised. He promised forever when they were 16 and they’d only been together for a year as they danced at the Yule Ball until 12am. At 17, when he admitted he wouldn’t be finish the school year. He promised once again at 18, before he flew out of Hogwarts with George. At 19, straight after George had his ear cursed off and he was sick with fear because the war was real and happening.

At 20, they were fighting in their school and he’d promised, ‘We're surviving this fucking thing and I’m marrying you as soon as I can.’ 

They pull apart and Y/N is smiling at him, adoration filled in her eyes as Fred feels around in his shorts, clearly trying to grab something. When he pulls it out, Y/N’s eyes catch the small, velvet black box and while she doesn’t want to get her hopes up, her heart is racing.

“I’ve been carrying this everyday, waiting for the perfect time,” he chuckles, shaking his head. You’d think Fred Weasley would have a huge and bizarre proposal, most likely with fireworks and dancing gnomes somehow, but in reality, this is perfect. He’s surrounded by his loved ones, there’s no war and he wants nothing more than to officially make Y/N a Weasley. 

“Is that now, Freddie?” she says and he nods, smiling. Y/N thinks he’s never looked happier in his life. He knows what her answer will be so he doesn’t feel the slightest bit nervous.

“I promised you, we're surviving the war and I’m fucking marrying you as soon as I can, so here I am,” he pops the box open and Y/N gasps. It’s nothing extravagant but she doesn’t mind. Small and classy, just like she’d always wanted and she doesn’t even realise she’s crying until Fred’s hand wipes her tears with his free hand, “Will you marry me?” 

She barely gives an answer, nodding her head violently as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his. Their teeth clash and they both laugh at Fred not being prepared to be jumped before getting a verbal response. Y/N pulls away and puts out her left hand, “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

He slides the ring on her finger and it’s a perfect fit. They continue to sit in front of the tree, watching their family but Y/N constantly catches herself looking at the diamond ring sparkling in the sun and she’s decided she’s never been happier as well.

Everything is perfect, because it’s the calm after a very, very long storm and she’s never taking family for granted again.