#the way his voice sounds on specific words is going to HAUNT my dreams

[scattered-under-moonlight]

[alkaline-wtr]

Soap x reader

Description: Reader is jealous of Soaps new coworker.

Generes/warnings: Insecure!reader, Jealousy, angst, technical fem!reader but no specifics or appearance is mentioned, oneshot

WC: 580 (ish)

** 1000% based on real events in my life… Hahahahahaha 🥲

~ ~ ~

‘Comparison is the thief of joy.’

This saying had never felt more true to you than it did now. Why though? It’s not like your lovely boyfriend had been unfaithful?

Soap was loyal, kind, and attentive, and yet somehow your own mind had convinced you otherwise.

It had started as a joke, a halfhearted one, a way to cope with creeping jealousy. When Soap first mentioned the new girl at work, you’d thought nothing of it. You’d never had any reason not to trust him, even now. But that nagging voice in the back of your mind pestered you relentlessly.

One Afternoon, he’d mentioned a fleeting conversation between them and Ghost, he’d only intended to share his joke, hoping to make you smile and feel a part of his day. Before you could stop your self the snarky comment slipped out,

“Oh, you mean your work girlfriend?”

You tried to sound playful, but deep down it wasn't just a joke.

Soap chuckled, brushing it off in his usual manner. With him, nothing was ever too serious.

From then on it became a running joke between you. You would say,

"Ask your other girlfriend then."

After he'd teased you, claiming you 'didn't love him' when denying his request to install a trampoline in your living-room, or adopt an exotic animal from a local zoo. Sometimes you really did mean to joke but, as the words sank deeper into your mind it was harder to force out a smile.

'His other girlfriend.’ At least that’s what you referred to her as. Even her name left a bitter taste on your tongue. The hint of jealousy was easily shoved down in the beginning. After all, how could you not like someone you’d never met or seen?

It wasn’t until he invited you to the pub with his teammates one night, and you’d witnessed their interactions first-hand that you couldn’t ignore it so plainly. The ease of jokes and teasing conversation between them. But Soap? Well, he’s just like that with everyone.

"There you go making messes again, Johnny."

Ghost had nudged him after Soap spilled a bit of his drink on the bar, as she handed him a couple napkins and teased,

"Should we find you a sippy cup?"

You’d never felt this way, in the year you’d been together, jealous or insecure.

It was a gentle love from the start. He’d made you feel seen, heard, desired. Making sure you always knew how special and important you were to him. He gave you sense of security you'd never known. So why did it feel like he was slipping away now?

She was nice… and you hated that. The involuntary bitterness you felt for her left a pit of guilt in your stomach.

She didn’t deserve your judgment. She’d never crossed a line, never disrespected your boundaries. You only hated her because she was pretty, thin, funny… You hated her because she wasn't you.

The recurring nightmares were the heaviest burden.

This woman you barely knew… was somehow plaguing your mind and she’d done nothing wrong.

You hated how easily your mood changed on those mornings. Even the dreams were fairly innocent. Sharing flirty glances, Soap brushing his hand with hers.

It was nothing more than your own self-loathing manifesting in your most vulnerable state, painting a picture of betrayal and infidelity. When really your own mind was the only one haunting you.

Maybe it’s just easier to blame someone else than confront the harsh reality, you don't value yourself.

Regardless of the awareness of your own self-loathing, you shoved it down and continued the inside joke with a smile.

[7-wonders]

It's Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus!

Summary: It's Halloweekend, and you've got a couple of parties to attend! Morpheus, who missed out on the development of Halloween into the holiday it is today, is very curious about what your plans are.

Word count: 1.8k

And now, a note from the author: Ahhh Claire actually managed to write something! I loved coming up with and writing this; I was giggling the entire time. As always, if you enjoyed, likes, comments, and reblogs (but especially the last two!) make my world go round. If you didn't like it, also let me know! I'm always down to hear constructive feedback/criticism—it's how we become better writers.

Though reader is wearing a skirt, the gender of reader is not specified! If you're non-binary or a guy and you wouldn't mind dressing up in a skirt for a group costume, I hope you enjoy this fic too!

It’s not often that Dream of the Endless visits you in your realm, instead of vice versa. While he had met you in the Waking, he had never been entirely comfortable there. That feeling, that wrongness, only increased tenfold after his imprisonment at the hands of Roderick Burgess. No, Morpheus is not overly fond of the Waking.

Tonight, however, he’s here, and you have a pretty good inkling as to why. 

Though Morpheus would never admit it, hearing you talk helps to calm him down when he’s feeling stressed (another thing he would never admit to: stress). After a frustrating day of holding court—one of his least favorite things to do, but one that was integral to the functioning of his realm—you decided that telling him about your plans for the week would be a bland enough topic where he would not have to actually listen to your words, but simply your voice. Your plan seemed to be working; you could feel his body relaxing in your arms, and you had never been more relieved to hear the absentminded hums of someone who was only half-listening to a conversation.

At some point, you mentioned that you were excited about the Halloween parties that you would be attending. That got his attention, drawing him out of the reverie that your voice and your fingers carding through his hair had lulled him into. He shifted in your hold, his black pools of stars looking up at you curiously.

“All Hallows’ Eve is not for another week though, yes?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it’s during the week this year, which means everybody celebrates the weekend before.��

“Why not celebrate on the day itself? Traditionally, Samhain is a very important holiday.”

Now the miscommunication made sense in your mind. It was only natural that he still thought of the holiday as what it was before 1916. “Oh! Halloween has evolved a lot, especially in the past hundred years. It doesn’t really resemble the Samhain of old.”

He still looks a little confused but nods. “How interesting. So you will also be participating in these…festivities early?”

“Festivities” was a good way to put it, and you decided to just leave it at that. How the hell else were you supposed to explain to your eons-old, all-powerful boyfriend that the Halloween of today is about wearing a fun/sexy costume, doing spooky activities like haunted houses or watching scary movies, and partying?

“Yep!” you said. “I have plans with friends; we’re going to wear our costumes and go celebrate with others.”

“What will your costume be?”

“I’m not quite sure yet. I have a couple of different ones, so I’ll probably decide the day of.”

That interest in modern Halloween, specifically how you celebrate Halloween, is why you’re not really all that surprised when you hear him call your name from the other side of the bathroom door while you’re taking a shower.

“In here, my love!” You just barely have to raise your voice, knowing that he’ll still hear you above the sound of water raining down. The bathroom door opens, and you stick your head out of the shower curtain. You very happily accept the kiss that he offers you. “Hi.”

“Hello.” His voice, deep and as smooth as dark chocolate, rumbles through your ears in a way that you’ll never tire of. It’s impossible to resist giving him one more kiss (can you be blamed?), so you give in to the temptation.

“Give me five minutes and then I’ll be done, okay?”

Though it’s very reluctant, he does part from you. It takes you a little less than that to finish with your shower, and you open the door again so that you can at least be in the same space as Morpheus while you hurriedly put some makeup on (thankfully your costume doesn’t require anything drastic beyond what you normally wear). He’s sitting patiently on your bed, eyes already trained on you as you move through your getting-ready routine.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “You almost never visit me in the Waking.” 

You’re teasing him, since, as previously mentioned, you know exactly why he’s here. Naturally, Morpheus doesn’t catch on. “I wished to see you off before your Hallowe’en celebration.”

“That’s sweet of you!” To the bedroom you go, where your costume sits waiting atop your dresser. “I’m just about ready to go, I only need to finish putting my costume on.” 

Morpheus’s face grows flushed at the easy compliment you give him (you don’t think he’s ever been called ‘sweet’) and you laugh quietly before disappearing back through the bathroom with costume in tow.

A couple of months ago, two of your friends decided that being the Powerpuff Girls was the move for this Halloween and roped you into the idea. One of your friends, a natural blonde, claimed Bubbles before the idea could even fully be discussed. Your other friend was very excited to be a bearded Blossom and wear a giant bow on his head. This left Buttercup for you to dress up as, not that you were complaining.

Now, you’re sliding into a green crop top and a matching green skirt, this piece being made out of a shiny material. All three of your skirts are the same fabric (and definitely shorter than what’s considered decent), with the shirts being dealer’s choice. You finish your outfit off with black tights and a black headband—Bubbles is also wearing black tights, while Blossom will be sporting black knee-highs. All in all, it’s a pretty simple costume, but sometimes, that’s what the best costumes are.

You emerge from the bathroom once more and do a little twirl for Morpheus, whose eyes immediately light up. “This is very much a pop culture reference, so I’m not expecting you to understand the costume. Still, I think it turned out pretty good!”

Morpheus is not a man—the anthropomorphic personification of the collective unconscious, the Lord of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, simply chooses this as his favored form. Still, he is a man-shaped being, and like all man-shaped beings, he goes a little wild for the object of his affection in a short skirt.

“You will be wearing this in public?” he asks, standing up and approaching you.

Morpheus has lived for as long as beings have been able to dream. He quite literally lived through the Beginning when Adam and Eve didn’t know what clothes were, as well as a number of empires for whom clothing was merely a suggestion. The affront he’s showing at the clothes you’re wearing must be some sort of code for “this is my partner wearing something I consider sexy and I’m feeling possessive about other people seeing them.” That he looks at you as though you’re wearing the barest scraps of clothing and not dressing up as a cartoon superhero has you feeling mighty powerful.

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on a little bit.

“This is tame compared to what a lot of other people wear,” you inform him.

Morpheus does not look as though he’s listening. No, he’s focused on your body rather than your words. One hand rests on your waist to pull you closer to him, and the other hand comes to rest on your upper thigh where the skirt ends. He rubs the skirt between his thumb and index finger as though he’s testing the fabric. 

“Am I correct in assuming that costumes are no longer worn to disguise the wearer from errant spirits?”

“Yes, you’re correct.” Right now though, explaining the traditions of Halloween is not important to you. You need some validation, and stat. “But do you like it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Thank you,” you say smugly, smacking his hand as he tries to slip it higher under your skirt. “Not tonight. I have to meet up with the gang soon!”

“Might I make a suggestion?” 

You nod. No matter how outlandish the suggestion, you’d listen to him make it, and you’d probably take it into strong consideration.

Morpheus places a delicate kiss on your jaw before he trails his lips to your ear. “Forget about your friends and stay with me for the evening,” he whispers seductively.

Oh, but that is tempting. You can already imagine the way in which Morpheus would remove your costume, the feeling of his hands on your body as he makes you forget about anything outside of you and him and the pleasure you bring each other. From the darkened look he gives you, he’s already picked up on these daydreams, and he’s in total agreement of that order of events. 

Unfortunately, your brain, that traitorous organ, reminds you of why you shouldn’t be absconding to the Dreaming with your lover.

You sigh in frustration at the logic and lean your forehead against his. “I would, but I’ve had these plans for a couple of weeks now, and I really am looking forward to them.”

Though it very obviously pains Morpheus to say it, he does agree. “Yes, I suppose it would be…rude to abandon them.”

“I should probably go,” you say begrudgingly, pulling away from him and focusing intently on gathering what you’ll need so that you don’t give in to your desire.

Morpheus watches as you whirl around the room, muttering the name of each item as you grab them. Your phone is annoyingly elusive, and you think you’ll just have to go without it until it’s dangled in front of you by your Dreamlord. Gratefully, you take it from him.

“Thank you,” you say sheepishly. That’s the last of your belongings, but you feel like you can stall just a bit longer. He’s heard about your plans, but you haven’t heard of his. “What will you do while I’m gone?”

“Wait for you to return to my embrace once more,” he teases.

“Please try to do something instead of moping the whole time.”

“I do not mope!”

You give him a look, one that says you see right through this charade. “Yes. You do. I’m sure there’s a new book you’ll want to read. Maybe ask Lucienne what she’s been working on, or start creating a new nightmare?”

“Are you not going to be late?” Morpheus deflects. It makes you laugh, but he is right, so you do a once-over of your room to make sure you’re not missing anything and kiss him briefly.

“Bye. I love you.”

“I love you as well, my starlight. You remember how to call for me should you run into trouble?” Of course you do: write down his name and speak it. It’s cute of him to act like he won’t try to have Matthew follow you, though.

You can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture. “Yes, I remember. I’ll be fine, okay?”

He nods, satisfied. “I shall see you later, then.”

You’re able to sneak in one more kiss before he’s off and you’re heading to your front door, already counting down the hours until your night of partying is over. Who knew dressing up like a Powerpuff Girl could get someone so hot and heavy?

If Morpheus thinks that’s attractive, just wait until he sees the angel costume you’re wearing tomorrow.

[mykoreanlove]

nightmares

“Don’t you ever come back here; you hear me? No one wants you here. Of course, you’re going to be alone forever. Get lost!”

Your eyes quickly darted upward in a state of panic. It was the middle of the night as you arose from your nightmare. Your entire body trembled, beads of sweat streaming down your temples.

You inhaled deeply, trying to control yourself but failed. Tears started flowing down your cheeks. Despite your efforts to wipe them away and sob quietly, your boyfriend would sense your discomfort even in his sleep.

“Baby?” His raspy voice sounded even deeper, tinted with sleep and concern. “Baby, are you crying?”

Jackson shot up and enveloped you in the tightest embrace known to mankind. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep, Sunni”, you sniffed heavily. “Are you kidding? It’s not fine. What’s wrong, y/n?” He hugged you even tighter and placed a safe kiss on your forehead. Being in Jackson’s embrace felt like a sweet relief, a place of salvation even. Having his strong arms around you made you feel safe; putting the horrors of your dreadful dream past you.

Jackson didn’t push – he himself knew how nerve-wracking it was to talk about your feelings. He never wanted to pressure you, but he had to make sure you knew he was there for you.

Almost inaudibly, he whispered softly: “I know talking about this is hard but bearing it all on your own is even harder. You can always lean on me, baby. I promise.”

“I had that dream again”, you mumbled against his broad chest. “The one with the bouncer?”

You smiled warmly. Even though this dream had haunted you for decades, you only talked about it once briefly – and Jackson remembered. Indeed, he was the most attentive man you had ever dated. Jackson possessed an innate ability to understand your actions, discern your emotions, and anticipate your needs. It felt as though the two of you shared a profound and intimate connection. Unbeknownst to you, he had become your steadfast support and sanctuary, your rock, and ultimately, your home.

You nodded your head.

This dream of yours wasn’t just an ordinary dream. It was a haunting memory that your brain kept replaying over the years.

“Do you want to tell me what you remember?”

By now your tears had stopped falling, but you were afraid they might come back any minute. As if he could read your mind Jackson patted your back and whispered softly: “I’ll dry your tears, baby. Don’t worry. You’re here with me, safe and sound. You can let it out. I got you, y/n.”

The situation was serious, yet you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Get out of my head, Wang”, you teased lovingly. Jackson assaulted your head with sweet, little kisses. “No way, babe. I plan on staying in there forever.”

Forever.

That word startled you, making you feel panicked again. “You’re going to be alone forever!” You took a deep breath and started to pour your heart out. “I know it’s stupid, but I can’t shake off that memory. I was out with friends, and we wanted to visit a club that we were too young for and the bouncer denied us access. We were a bit drunk, and he was a shitty dickhead or whatever but his words never left me.”

You paused.

Re-living that traumatic experience made you tear up. “What did he say exactly?” Jackson’s voice was full of compassion for you. “He said that we should get lost because no one wants us here. But then he said something to me specifically.” You felt Jackson’s thumb on your cheek, wiping away the salty tears. “He said that I’m going to be alone forever. And that hasn’t left me ever since.”

For a while you just laid there, not saying a word to each other. Jackson let go of you and turned on his side, now facing you directly. He took your fragile hand into his and drew small circles on it. “Baby, did you believe him?” You looked at him surprised. “Huh?”

“Do you think you’re having this nightmare over and over again because you believe it’s true? That he was right back then?”

You looked down, too ashamed to face him. Of course, you did. You were aware of the universe mirroring back your insecurities at you, but you weren’t ready to face them yet. Jackson’s eyes saddened even more as he realized that he had been right. His girlfriend, the love of his life, thought she was unlovable.

In the past, he might have been disheartened, internalizing a sense of failure for not making his girl feel loved. However, with time and personal growth from his own challenges, he gained wisdom. Though he loved you wholeheartedly, he now understood the importance of you recognizing your own inherent lovability.

“Baby? Can you look at me?”

You raised your head and looked at him, eyes glistening with a mixture of sadness and shame.

“Tell me, baby. What makes a person lovable?”

Caught off guard, you stumbled for words, failing to find any.

“What makes you lovable, baby? The way you look? Your body? Your pussy? Your job? Your IG followers? Tell me, baby.”

Putting it into words was hard but he was right. You always attached your worth and ability to be loved to something external. And when the external started to crumble, so did you.

“Do you think I love you for any of these things?”

You did which only made you feel worse. Jackson noticed the tears falling and put you right back into his strong embrace. “Oh baby, do you take me for the superficial kind?”

He placed another reassuring kiss on the crown of your head.

“Listen to me. You don’t have to say a single thing. Just listen. Can you do that, baby?” You nodded, gripping his shirt even harder.

“I don’t love you for any of that. Sure, it’s nice to have but that’s not what I fell in love with. I fell in love with your essence, with your whole being. I fell in love with how you care about me and the people you love. I fell in love with your positive outlook on life. I fell in love with the way you gush at dogs and run away from spiders. I love you for all that you are and all that you’re not. I’m sorry you took his words to heart back then, but he was wrong. You’re not going to be alone forever, because you got me. You are amazing, y/n. And lovable. God damn, baby, you are worthy of all the love in the world. I will love you even if your teeth fall out and your hair turns grey. I will love you even if you're broke and banned from social media. To me you’re not a body or an accomplishment – to me you are the most beautiful soul in this plane of existence. Got it?”

Tears of sadness turned into tears of joy – Jackson was saying all the things you needed to hear back then. Or needed to hear even more now. You looked up at him, eyes all puffy and red but still smiling. “I hate it when you cry but you kinda look like a cute red racoon while doing so, baby”, he laughed.

You joined in and shared this heartfelt moment with him. He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered softly: “I really mean what I said, y/n. I love you with all of my heart. So please try to do the same.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

One is the Loneliest Number

Don Eppes x Reader

Words: 4527

Part Three of Three

Summary: Having pushed each other away, Don and the reader contemplate whether or not the risk relationships pose in their lives is worth the pain they’ve experienced before. Things get even more complicated when she must go into protective custody. Charlie steps in to help. 

Notes: For this last part, I really wanted to do something a little different and not use the villain from the last two episodes. I thought having something more connected to the reader rather than Don would be a good way to get a conversation going for the two of them. But who knows, maybe I’ll bring these two back and revisit Nicholsen. I’ve had so much fun writing this series. 

More Don: HERE 

-

You heard the shots and started running. 

The shot echoed through his head as he sprinted across the courtyard.

You couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Every step seemed like another gunshot ringing through your head. 

He pushed through the sea of people running in the opposite direction, trying to see over the crowd. Another shot rang out and someone around him screamed. He called out your name like he already knew. 

You made it past the desk without having to check in. They didn’t even look at you. They all just looked at the horrifying scene as it played out on every security screen, haunting you with every image. You watched him fall to the ground. You watched the blood. 

He saw the pool of blood before he saw you. It seemed to flow like a river, spreading across the sidewalk and coating his feet as he kept running. 

You fell to the carpet beside him- laid out beside his desk and choking on his blood- a bullet hole where his throat should have been. 

He fell to the ground beside you, your cold eyes directed up at the gray sky. He pulled you into his arms, letting your blood stain his skin and mix with his tears. 

You screamed until you couldn’t breathe. 

He screamed until his lungs gave out. 

You woke up gripping sweat-soaked sheets, gasping in the cold night air. Rain pelted the fire escape, pinging against the metal and your memory. 

Don woke up, shooting out of the bed, reaching for the bat he kept next to his nightstand. But there was no one there. Nothing but the sound of the rain on his window pane. 

Your frantic eyes scanned the room, convincing your brain that it was just a dream. It wasn’t real. 

Don laid back down, turning over but finding nothing but an empty bed to hold. 

You were alone. 

He was alone. 

-

They caught him. More specifically, they killed him. Pete Nicholsen went down two weeks after the shooting at the school. After everything with Don…

You’d tried to focus on teaching. You told yourself that it would be better. You wouldn’t be as distracted. It was easier this way. For both of you. 

Still, not so much as a phone call? 

It hurt more than you wanted to admit. 

How could you be so stupid? 

“Come on, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself. “It wasn’t exactly the same situation. Cut yourself some slack.” 

The bottom drawer of your desk mocked you with what you knew was inside. As you reached for it, a voice made you pause. 

“Long day?” Amita knocked on your doorframe and stepped into the office. “No offense, but you look exhausted.” 

“Gee, thanks,” you laughed, forgetting the object in the drawer. “Did Charlie send you to check on me?”

“Can’t I just be concerned about the well-being of my friend?” Amita took the seat across from you. “He mentioned that you’ve seemed a little down the past few weeks and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m always okay, Amita, but I appreciate the concern.” 

“‘I’m always okay’? Really,” she said, shaking her head. “God, you sound like Don.” 

“Ah, the elusive FBI big brother. I’ve heard his quite the character.” You kept your eyes on the wooden surface in front of you so she couldn’t see the pain in your gaze just from hearing his name. 

“I thought you guys knew each other?” She prompted. “Charlie seems to think you got on pretty well after the lecture.”

“Yeah, well our schedules and everything don’t really allow for budding friendships I guess.” 

Or relationships. Or feelings. 

Or love. 

The whining tone of your voice made you sound as pathetic as you felt. You grabbed some files from your desk that you honestly hadn’t looked at in days and placed them out in front of you. 

“I’ve actually got a lot I need to do tonight before I go home, so…” 

Amita’s lips formed a line. She nodded. “Right. I’ll leave you to do that then.” As she got up to leave, a pang of guilt shot through your head. Just because you were mad at yourself didn’t mean you had to be mad at the world. 

“Hey, wait,” you sighed. She turned around. “Maybe we could get coffee tomorrow or something? I know I’ve been kind of distant lately, but I’d like to spend more time with you and Charlie.”

“That would be great.” Amita gave you a small smile and left. 

You set the files back down and ran a hand over your face, reaching again for that bottom drawer. 

The ring glinted up at you in the lamplight, along with the shattered picture frame under it. A lying smile laid beneath cracked glass. 

Maybe it was better that Don broke things off when he did. 

Maybe you were just better off alone. 

And maybe, one day, you would actually make yourself believe that. 

-

“Now get it done!” Don screamed, slamming his hand on his desk and turning his back on the team. 

It was like he was angry at the world. From snapping at the team to the agitated way he was after they got Nicholsen, Don was different. And he was making work awkward as hell for everybody else. 

He was pouring himself some coffee, thinking about a lot of things, none of which had anything to do with the case he was on, when he was suddenly not alone anymore. 

“Alright,” Megan said, closing the door behind her. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You just yelled at all of us for the past ten minutes for not being able to get a warrant that you know we aren’t going to get.” She poured herself a cup. “You aren’t a bully Don, but you’re pissed off at something. I just don’t think it’s us.” 

“And I don’t think it’s your place to question me, Agent Reeves,” he snapped. 

She took the blow without flinching. “I’m talking as a friend, not a fellow agent. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m always okay,” he answered without thinking. 

Megan rolled her eyes. “Right.” 

Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, the junior agent returned to her desk. 

Don’s shoulders fell as he leaned on the table, running a hand down his face. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He knew that he was letting his personal life collide with work, the opposite of what he wanted to happen when he ended things. He took a deep breath, finished his coffee, and went back out to the team. 

The office was buzzing and it wasn’t over his previous outburst. The TV screen gave an explanation. A federal prosecutor was found dead in her garage. It might have been written off as a suicide, but, as the newscaster put it, clear messages were left at the crime scene regarding Attorney Lannister’s court case on Mario Treble, a big name in organized crime. 

But that wasn’t what Don noticed. 

There, in the background, a police officer was talking to a woman clearly in distress. 

“Isn’t that…” Megan started. 

Don’s eyes were glued to the screen and he spoke only loud enough that she could hear. “That’s Y/N.” 

-

You tried to keep from shaking. After a career of looking at crime scene photos, you never imagined that this is what it felt like to be first on the scene. 

Jules was your friend. Seeing her hanging like that… 

Just thinking about it almost made you sick all over again. You just sat on the hood of a cop car with the stupid shock blanket that the paramedics gave you for what had to be hours. You watched them wheel the body bag out of the garage, the squeaking wheels echoing through your head so you couldn't focus on anything else. You just saw her face, blue and twisted and terrified. You didn’t see the SUVs pull up or hear the car doors slam. You couldn't see anything but that black body bag until someone stepped in front of your view and suddenly you were looking into dark, worried eyes. 

“They told me you weren’t hurt. Are you hurt?” Don asked, crouching down so he could get a better look at possible injuries. 

Don. 

For a minute you didn’t care that you’d walked out of his apartment two weeks ago. You didn’t care that he’d broken your heart. You didn’t care that you’d spent the last couple of weeks beating yourself up over letting yourself fall in love again. You didn’t care because he was here. 

You stood up, blanket falling to your feet, and threw your arms around him. 

He stood, surprised for a second, but wrapped you in his embrace quickly, grateful that you were okay. 

“I came over to go over my testimony and-and she was just… hanging there,” you cried. “Her notes were all over the floor like someone had gone through them and the card was sitting there on top and-”

“Woah, slow down.” Don pushed away, brows furrowed. “Card? What card?” 

You blinked, remembered where you were and who you were with, and took a step back. “The King of Diamonds.” Running your fingers through your hair, you tried to think.

  “What does that have to do with Lannister?” 

“Playing cards are a trademark for Mario Treble,” you said. “It’s a message to let him go.” Tears welled up in your eyes again. “Jules told me this was a major case, but I never thought that… oh my god, they really killed her.” 

Don picked up the shock blanket and put it back around your shoulders. “Come here,” he soothed, pulling you back into your arms. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m going to figure this out.” 

“Hey, Don!” Colby called from the garage. “You should come take a look at this.” 

The team leader lingered, keeping his eyes on you. 

You took another step back. “Go. You’re of more use there than with me.” Maybe you didn’t mean for it to sound as biting as it did. Maybe you did. 

Don nodded, stone-faced, and walked away. 

He joined Colby, who was looking up at the beam that Jules Lannister had been strung up from. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

“Did Y/N mention anything about playing cards?” 

“Yeah, she said something about there being a King of Diamonds on top of the files. It’s apparently a signature of this guy Lannister was prosecuting,” Don said. “Why?”

Colby pointed up. “Because I think they left more than one message.” 

Don craned his neck to get a better look. There, taped to the beam, was a Queen of Hearts card. 

“Does that say what I think it says?” Colby grimaced. 

Don’s heart dropped. He clenched his jaw. 

“She’s next.” He reached for his phone. 

“What’s the plan?” Colby asked.

“First, I’m getting her the hell out of here.” He dialed his brother’s number. Don turned back, watching you across the driveway with a lump in his throat. The other line picked up. “Hey, Charlie, I need a favor.”

-

Someone handed you a mug. It warmed your hands. Someone asked if you wanted something else. You thought you shook your head, but you weren’t sure. It didn’t feel like you could move at all. You blinked, trying to process the motion around the room. 

Charlie sat down in front of you. 

“Don said he’ll be here soon.” 

You nodded. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” 

You nodded. 

“Can you actually hear me or are you just nodding because you want me to leave you alone?” 

Finally, a small smile graced your lips. Your dazed eyes met his.  “Loud and clear, professor. Thank you.” You took a sip of the coffee he’d given you, letting it pull you further out of your trance. 

Charlie took a deep breath. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it?”

“We see each other every other day,” you teased. 

“Yeah, but that’s just class stuff. We haven’t really, you know, talked talked since… well, since Nicholsen came to campus that day.”

You tensed and set the mug down. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Charlie.” 

“Listen, it took me a long time to… adjust after I started working with the FBI,” he said. “I don’t think I ever fully adjusted to some of the stuff we deal with.”

“It isn’t that.” 

He looked at you with soft, inquisitive eyes. “Then what is it?”

The door opened before you could fumble for an answer. 

“Don,” Alan greeted from the kitchen table. 

“Where is she? Is she okay?” His voice was urgent, panicked. The images from his dream had flashed through his mind the entire ride here.

“As okay as she can be,” you answered bleakly, standing up and meeting him under the archway. “Hey.” 

“I’ve got Megan and Colby talking to Treble at the prison and we’re getting something worked out for protective custody.”

You crossed your arms. “Protective custody? For who?”

“There was another card, Y/N.” Don’s dark eyes met yours. “Queen of Hearts.” 

Alan and Charlie exchanged a look. 

You took a step back, crossing your arms. 

“You think that they’re coming after me?”

“The card had ‘she’s next’ written on it. I’d say the chances are pretty high that means you.” He tossed his jacket onto the table. “I’m just waiting on the call to take you to a safehouse downtown.”

“I can’t go to a safe house,” you exclaimed. “We have to figure this out. Find who killed Jules and how to stop them from holding up the trial. How are we supposed to do that from a safe house?” 

He held up a hand. “We aren’t doing anything.” 

You stepped up to Don and all his protective machismo and put your hands on your hips. “Well, I’m not going to sit around while Jules’ killer is still out there.” 

Charlie gulped, storm warnings going off in his mind. 

Don glanced at his watching family members. “Come with me,” he said, taking you by the arm, and leading you into the kitchen. 

A wave hit Alan and he felt a little stupid for not seeing it earlier. 

With the kitchen door closed behind you, Don crossed his arms, fuming. 

“I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N, you teach criminology for a living,” he scoffed. “How often does it work out for the victim who refuses protection from someone like Treble?” 

You wanted to argue. You wanted to scream at him for more reasons than one, but the growing ache in your chest told you he was right. 

Don’s face softened. “Hey, listen, I get it. Jules was your friend and you want to get this guy. I want to get him too.” He stepped towards you. “But you aren’t thinking right now. You know that the safest thing you can do is work with me here.” A hand reached for yours. “Please.” 

“It was a mistake. Please. Do you know how this will look?” 

You took a step back. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Fine.” You voided your voice of any emotion but indifference. “Do whatever you think you need to, Agent Eppes.” 

You pushed back out the door. 

Don’s hand fell back to his side. 

-

Megan took you to the hotel, giving you little glances the whole drive. 

You didn’t say anything. 

The city blurred by outside of the window, the radio droning in the background. It looked like it was going to storm again. 

Your nightmare flashed through your head with the lightning. 

“Treble, obviously, isn’t talking,” Megan said, breaking the silence. “But Colby thinks he might have a lead.” She looked at you sympathetically. “We’re going to stop this guy.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, turning back to the cool glass of the window. “Let’s just hope it’s before any of you get killed in the process.”

“Y/N-”

“How much further is this place?” You interrupted, your voice flat and detached. 

Megan sighed. “Ten more minutes.” 

The car fell silent again. 

-

Don paced relentlessly as Charlie demonstrated how to apply something Don couldn’t focus on enough to understand to something else that didn’t seem like it was going to help at all. 

“That’s going to take too long,” he said, cutting Charlie off mid-sentence. 

Everyone in the room turned to him. 

“Don, I assure you, this will work in helping us know where Treble is going to instruct his men to strike next,” Charlie explained. 

“We already know where he’s going to strike next.” Don tossed the file with your name on it down on the table in front of his brother. “We need to know how to stop him, not study him.”

Frustration rippled across his tense shoulder blades, anger tightened his jaw, but beneath it all, fear filled his eyes. 

Charlie looked at Colby and David. “Can I have a minute, guys?”

Both were more than happy to avoid whatever hurricane Don had in him and hurried out of the room. 

Don’s brows drew together. “The hell are you doing?”

“Go to her,” Charlie sighed. 

“What?”

“Go. To. Her.” Charlie set down his marker and crossed his arms. “You’re going to keep boiling over until you do, so go see her. Talk to her. Do what you need to do so that you can think about this more clearly.”

“Are you saying I’m not doing my job?”

“No, I’m saying that you are being an idiot, Don.”

Don took a furious step towards him. 

Charlie moved to the other side of the table holding up his hands. 

“Look, I might not know everything, but I’m pretty good at putting variables together,” he said. “So get over yourself and go.”

Don’s mouth twitched and for a second, Charlie thought he was going to punch him. But instead, Don grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and stormed out of the room.

Charlie let out a sigh of relief. 

Finally.

-

You couldn’t sit still, despite the pile of work you’d brought with you, all you could do was pace in front of the windows, curtains drawn in case Treble managed to hire a sniper. That’s what Megan said anyway. 

She was sitting on the couch pretending not to analyze your every move like you were a cat trying to escape. 

“You should try and get some sleep,” she said, flipping through a newspaper. 

“Could you sleep if someone put out a calling card for your death?” 

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

Her walkie-talkie beeped and Don’s voice came through the static.

“Hey, Megan, I’m here to relieve you for a couple hours,” he said.

You froze.

He added, “Colby wants you to take a crack at getting one of Treble’s men to talk.”

Megan glanced up at you. She picked up the device. “Okay, boss.” She went to the door. 

You stuck to the window, arms crossed and heart pounding. You didn’t turn around when the door clicked open. You didn’t turn around when you heard his voice. 

“Thanks, Megan.”

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” the junior agent said, giving her boss a questioning look. She muttered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Don frowned and stepped inside. 

Megan closed the door behind her. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You still didn’t turn around. “Agent Eppes.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m doing what you wanted, aren’t I?” You huffed, shoulders tight and eyes welling up. “I’m here. Instead of looking for who did this to my friend, I’m here.”

“You’re safe.”

“Am I?” You finally whipped around to face him. “Megan told me to stay away from the windows in case they have a sniper. A sniper, Don!”

“It’s just a precaution. You know that.” He ran a hand down his face. 

You sighed, letting your eyes fall to the floor. “I know.” 

Don stepped toward you. He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, Y/N…” He blew out a breath. “Can we talk?”

“If it’s about my safety, I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s about what happened with the Nicholsen case.” 

Your eyes met his. Your heart stopped. “Don-”

A loud crash cut you off. 

Don rushed over to you, pulling out his gun. 

“It came from the bedroom,” you whispered, huddling close to him. “There’s a balcony with glass doors. That must be it.”

A flash of black and gunshots rang over your head. 

Don kept you behind him, ducking both of you out of the way. “This way. Go!”

He led you back toward the back entrance of the room. 

It burst open before you got there. One of Treble’s men stepped through, aiming for your chest and firing. 

Don got you out of the way enough for the bullet to only graze your shoulder. Still, pain tore through your arm and you couldn’t hold back your scream. 

“Sonofabitch,” Don muttered, firing at the hitman. His bullet found its mark between the man’s eyes. 

Your arm wrenched back and you felt the metal barrel against the back of your neck. 

“Call your FBI friend off,” a voice growled. 

“D-Don,” you whimpered, chest heaving and arms shaking.

Don turned around, eyes widening at the sight of you at gunpoint. 

“Drop it, tough guy,” the man holding you ordered. 

“Treble isn’t worth dying over,” Don said, trying to get a lock on the guy holding you, but he was using you as a shield. 

“I said put it down!” He dug the gun into your skin. 

Don’s eyes locked with yours.

A tear fell down your cheek. You mouthed ‘I love you.’

His heart shattered.

“Okay, okay.” Don put his hands up, slowly laying his weapon on the ground. 

“You’re going to tell your bosses to let Mario Treble go.”

“So you’re willing to go to prison for the rest of your life for that son of a bitch?” You snapped. 

“Shut up.” He jerked your injured arm back. 

You cried out. 

“You aren’t walking out of this,” Don said. “Just let her go and we can work something out.”

“Tell your bosses to let Treble go, or your girlfriend’s brains are going all over the carpet.” 

“Don,” you cried, trying to keep your voice from cracking. 

‘I love you too’ he mouthed, making sure the hitman couldn’t see. 

The shot made both of you flinch. 

The gun against your neck clattered to the floor. 

“You okay?” Megan asked, holding the gun that made the final kill. “Don?”

Don let out a sigh of relief. 

You hit your knees, a terrified sob escaping your chest. 

Don pulled you into his arms without hesitating, careful not to hit your bleeding wound. “Megan, we need a medic. Y/N’s hit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you muttered against his chest. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead. 

Megan called it in.

-

They let you go from the hospital even though Don said you should have stayed longer. The whole way to Charlie’s house, he didn’t leave your side and you didn’t argue about it. He reminded you that you were safe now. 

That Treble was staying behind bars. 

It was your idea to go to Charlie’s. Neutral ground. And you couldn’t bear the thought of going back to your apartment alone. 

The ride over from the FBI building was endured in a tense silence. 

The words you said still lingered in your head and hammered through your heart. Well… almost said. 

“Don, I-”

“Listen, Y/N-”

You both started at the same time. 

Don glanced over at you, a silent instruction for you to go first. 

You took a deep breath. “My ex-fiance cheated on me with his TA.” Saying it now felt like a weight lifted off your chest for the first time in years. You exhaled. “That’s why I’ve always been a little… careful.” 

Careful was a nice way of saying guarded, but you knew he got the point. 

His hand reached over to hold yours.

You didn’t pull away.

“I’m used to bailing when things get serious because I’m terrified of losing the people who are important to me,” he admitted, running his thumb over your knuckles. “So I convince myself that pushing people away is better for everyone.” Don parked the car and watched you with those dark, serious eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you because of that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my jerk of an ex sooner. I guess I made myself believe that if I pretended it didn’t happen, I could just move on.” You cast your eyes downward. “Jules was the one who helped me through it.” 

Don sighed. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“She died because she was damn good at her job.” You shook your head. “At least she would have been proud of that.” 

You tried in vain to blink away tears. 

Don shifted in his seat to face you. “Hey-”

“I’m okay,” you choked back a sob. “I’m-”

“Come here.” Don pulled you to him, holding you like he had back in that hotel room while you cried. While tears of his own threatened to spill over. 

“I was so scared, Don. I didn’t want to die like she did. I wasn’t ready to-”

“I know, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek. “I know.”

You pulled away, but your faces remained inches apart. “I meant it,” you said, voice lowered to a whisper. “And it wasn’t because I had a gun to my head and it wasn’t because I thought I was going to lose you all over again.” You stared into those perfect brown eyes. “I love you, Don Eppes.” 

Don paused as if making sure he heard you right. Then, he closed the space between you. His lips caught yours gently, holding his next words in every movement.

“I meant it too.” He kissed you again. “I love you, Y/N.” 

“Then let’s stop pretending we don’t.”

He laughed, finally smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The two of you got out of the car, hand in hand, and you knew that this was what you wanted. What Jules would have wanted for you. 

“So does this mean I can bother you at work whenever I have to see Charlie?” Don asked, smirking. 

“Only if you bring me cold pizza or a turkey sandwich,” you smiled. 

Alan opened the door with Charlie beside him. They both looked at you and Don’s linked hands. 

“Well I’m glad that’s finally figured out,” Alan said. 

Don stopped, looking at both of them. “You two knew?”

“I did,” Alan laughed. “But it took your brother a little longer to figure it out.”

Charlie held up his hands. “My mind has been a little too occupied to realize my brother and my coworker are hiding a relationship.” 

You winced. “Yeah. Sorry, Charlie.” 

The four of you all laughed.

Don held you a little tighter. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. But neither of you would be alone. 

[cricket-reader]

Side of the Road III

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: the team has to come to terms with the new guest at the compound. Old wounds are brought to the surface for Bucky.

Warnings: language, depictions of violence, Tony Stark being himself, mentions of near death experience, mentions of wounds, probably incorrect medical jargon/procedures, Bucky’s negative thoughts

Word Count: 1,201

A/N: Today is my official one year anniversary of this account. Thanks to everyone who followed me and left comments. I appreciate you all more than words can say! I figured to celebrate by posting a continuation of my first ever fic I posted to Tumblr!

Series Masterlist | Part 2

The next morning, Stark is at the coffee machine as the rest of the team meander in. Bucky didn’t get any sleep, too preoccupied about the guest they picked up. Steve and Sam didn’t get much sleep either, haunted by the mutilated figure of that innocent woman. Bruce and Helen stayed up until the woman’s body was stable enough to move out of the cradle, and even then they took turns keeping watch over her.

“You guys, I had the weirdest dream last night. I don’t remember specifics, but there was a lady wrapped in our coats trying to give terminator over there a-”

“Stark.” Steve’s sharp voice cuts off his sentence.

Tony’s head whips around to see the haunted faces of his teammates. Frowning, he sets his mug on the counter.

“So… it was real?” He shrugs with a non-committal hum before plastering a smirk over his features. “I thought it was a weird dream anyway. Why would I want that image in my mind?”

“Knock it off, Stark. That girl almost died. This is no joking matter.”

Tony’s face pales. He didn’t think it was serious. How much did he have to drink last night? “What exactly happened?”

“We’re not sure. Her back was mangled and she was left in below freezing temperatures with nothing to protect her against the cold. If she had been administered to any normal hospital, she would have died.”

Tony’s hand scrubs over his scruffy facial hair. “There was no one around?”

“Nope, it seemed like whoever did that to her dropped her there to die.”

“Well, shit.”

Tony doesn’t like the sound of this. He is naturally an untrusting person. Hell, he doesn’t even let the Avengers—the team he has worked with for years—see the real him. Letting an unknown into his compound is a risky move. But how far would his enemies go to get to him—to the team? Surely they wouldn’t send him a nearly-dead woman to take him or his team out.

First of all, there are much more efficient ways to get rid of him, as evident with the whole Obie spectacle. Secondly, no one on the brink of death could take out his teammates. He’ll just have to keep an eye on her when she makes her recovery.

“Friday, my love, how is our newest guest settling into our wonderful compound?”

“Her vitals appear to be stable. She has not woken up yet, but she is recovering thanks to Doctor Cho and Banner,” Friday responds, diligent as ever.

“Great,” he claps his hands together before grabbing his coffee and disappearing to his lab.

Steve scoffs. “How can he be so cruel? It’s like he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

Bucky frowns, grabbing a mug for himself and Steve. The bitter liquid spurts into the cups, ready to give them fuel for the day—or at least for a few minutes.

On his part, Bucky isn’t completely convinced that Stark’s true nature is cruel. Bucky honestly suspects it has everything to do with him. Who would want to show their true face to the psycho who killed their parents? Not for the first time, he wonders if the team would be better off without him.

“Wow, I see how it is,” Sam grumbles, grumpily grabbing his own mug and making his own coffee.

“What? Don’t tell me princess Sam needs his overly sugary excuse for coffee made for him. Would you like me to cut up your breakfast into small pieces too?”

Sam rolls his eyes, saying something about jerk-faced super-soldiers getting on his nerves.

When Bruce steps into the kitchen, the atmosphere stills. Conversation halts and eyes dart towards his exhausted figure.

Bruce sighs. “She’s stable for now. We almost lost her a few times, but she’s a fighter. We’ve got her on a feeding tube and everything until she wakes up.”

“The marks on her back?” Sam questions.

“The cellular regeneration worked. From the brief look I got at the wounds, I suspect she was either whipped or someone took to carving into her with a knife.”

A shattering sound breaks the otherwise silent response. Heads turn to look at Bucky who is staring in shock at what’s left of the broken piece of pottery in his vibranium hand—almost as if he hasn’t registered that it was him who destroyed it.

Bucky doesn’t even feel the burning liquid seeping into his shirt and jeans.

Swallowing, he looks around the room, shame filling his body as he goes to clean up the mess he made. Steve tells him to go get cleaned up before Bucky can even start to pick up the shattered pieces.

Allowing Steve to do just this one thing for him, Bucky storms out of the room. On the way to his room he tries to think of a way to repay Steve for helping him, even if he has been told that he doesn’t owe Steve anything on numerous occasions.

Distraction, he realises.

He’s trying to distract himself from the fact that some poor woman had to endure some of the same kind of torture he went through. He grits his teeth, remembering the way those whips tore at his flesh. The way they burned their way through the outermost layers of skin and kept digging and digging and-

She had to go through that too

His gut churns, heart beating faster and faster. Disgust, hatred, and pure unadulterated rage claw their way through his body. He needs to punch something—he needs to punish those who punished her.

The door to his room slams open. If it were any normal door, it would have broken off its hinges. The only reprieve he receives from the force he used comes in the form of the hole where the doorknob met the wall. He slams his door back shut, knowing at this point he’s acting like a toddler with a tantrum but not having it in him to care.

Why is he so angry?

In all his time as the Winter Soldier, one would think that he had seen enough horrors to be numbed to anything and everything around him. So why does this irk him so much?

It doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t like it. He shouldn’t feel this way over some poor woman he knows nothing about. For all he knows, she could have deserved it. She could be the scum of the earth finally broken down to her last resorts. She could be as bad as his captors in Hydra. Turning a blind eye to the corruption or playing a direct hand in an unwilling participant’s torture.

But the way she begged him. Please—no… no more… It appalled him that she reminded him so much of himself. Of his early days where he fought with everything he had, the days where he begged the doctors to stop, to let him die, to have mercy.

It hits too close to home, he decides. That is the reason he is so worked up about it. She has been broken down into a shell of herself just as he had been.

He deserved those lashings after all the blood that stained his hands. Did she?

Series Masterlist | Part 4

Bucky Taglist: @harleycao @hallecarey1 @loki

Comment if you’d like to be added to this story’s Taglist

[augustghosts]

Just a little blurb I wrote while listening to antichrist by the 1975 lmao. Eddie survives and reminisces on his new mindset.

This is kinda boring I think? but I'm just trying to get better at posting regularly because I love writing, and I have sooo much in my docs that I'm too anxious to post after 1988 flopped lmao. So I'm starting again with little blurbs like this, this is only 800 words. This is kind of sad though and hints at depression. So if that's not your thing, that's totally fine - keep scrolling <3 (to my masterlist perhaps?)

“Like ghosts?” She asks him softly. Eyes focused on the way his hands fumbled with the lighter. Sat in the back of his van - doors open, sundown. Oranges and blues. And big, dark browns, not looking into hers anymore. Watching the sky. 

“Yeah, kind of.” He mumbles, he sounds sad. Sometimes he feels like something is haunting him. and it seems to be specifically here. Hawkins. His own kind of fucked up metaphor. He liked metaphors. Sitting here, the lake. Being surrounded by water - isolation. His own mind, perhaps. Sometimes he still sees the blood on his hands. She knows he’s been through a lot, so she listens. She always listens. He loves that about her. When they make eye contact, he laughs dryly. “Sorry.” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips.

“It’s okay.” She smiles, she wants to take his hand. “I like ghost stories.” She jokes, she knew he wasn’t really talking about ghosts. He also knew that she knew that. He liked that she was going along with him. 

When he closes his eyes, blood-covered hands. Sometimes he blamed himself for the pain and misery in his life - perhaps for the pain and misery in Hawkins, as of late. Could he have done more? He thinks back to March, thinks back to when his hands were dirty and covered in blood. Did that mean he was to blame? Everyone told him he wasn’t. The ghost he sees in his dreams - that follows him home. Himself - the past. 

Eventually, as he keeps talking - she does take his hand. His rough skin, rings - brushing soft and bare. His eyes flicker to their hands for a moment. He knows that nobody can know the answers he wants.  He knows that she tries her best to understand. To listen to what he  is going through. But she doesn’t share it. She can’t relate, no matter how much she tries. Her comfort helps. But sometimes it leaves him feeling more isolated. Trapped - haunted by the ghosts of his thoughts - his former self. 

“Sometimes I feel like I'm just treading water.” He trusts her enough to open up like this, it makes her chest hurt. Love and pride. “I feel like I failed at so much. In such a short period of time.” He knows she likes to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. He’s heard it so many times, maybe he even believes it himself. He knows deep down, but he feels like that isn’t enough. He doesn’t feel connected to anyone.  She can’t relate to him. He knows she can’t help if he can’t speak. He feels stuck - tired of this hollowness. Eddie has always internalised his thoughts and feelings. A habit he developed young, a habit he continues to practise. A habit he hates. 

He also doesn’t understand the agony she sometimes feels. How she feels as she tries desperately to keep him. Sometimes she also feels like she is starting to fail, like she is starting to fail him. He falls apart and all she can do is listen and watch. His life had taken a capricious turn, and she wished she could have stopped it. She desperately wanted to protect him. Her old Eddie comes and goes, but this new Eddie. She wanted to protect him, needed to. He loves her, he loves the house they live in. The love he has for her and his family is so all consuming, he doesn’t have room for this sadness. But still, it remains. It was thought provoking for him, had it always been there? Did it just need something like this to crawl to the surface? Has this shadow always followed him? Watching and waiting? 

“You know I love you, right?” Her voice interrupts his thoughts. Her voice, the voice that always brings him back. He looks at her for the first time in a few minutes. She looks beautiful in the light. He looks down at their hands, still gripping each other. A lifeline. He knows, but sometimes it still shocks him. Love? Him? Has that ever been on his agenda? It was now. This person that sits in front of him, that listens to him and supports him and loves him. He says it back, he says it the same way he says it  a million times a day. Sometimes it feels like a million. She brings her hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his head down to press a kiss to his forehead - another to his cheek. He smiles, she loves it when he does. Rare now.

“I love you too, so much.” He whispers it into her skin. He tries to show her, the same way she shows him. Recently, he feels like that's all he can do - try. And he will.

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Blindfold

Blindfold Yunho x f.reader Genre: Smut Words: 3.8k Warnings: Not really any warnings but we’re into blindfolding and major teasing here, folks. Birthday sex.

Authors Note: I hope that writing this will quench my thirst and make him stop haunting my dreams. Please suffer with me.

March 23rd. A day you’ve had marked with three red ‘x’’s on your phone calendar for a month. A day you have thought about since Valentine’s Day, after your wonderful, loving, perfect-to-you-in-every-way boyfriend told you about something he would like to try. The conversation had been innocent enough, although there was some irony in it’s exchange, during post-sex cuddles on your bed.

He was all giggles, with soft hands and warm skin, voice lower than usual and just as tender. You could feel the gentle tickle of his lips at your hairline as they moved to form words. Easy words that spelled out his curious desire, “Maybe someday we could try blindfolding.” Those six simple words, spoken with a tangible smile and blushing cheeks, had you pulling your head back from the comfort of his neck to watch his face. Yunho was grinning, somehow shy after all this time, and proud of himself nonetheless. You smiled right back at him with your lips pressed to his chin when he playfully lifted his lips too high for you to reach in your position cradled against his chest. “If you want to blindfold me I would let you. I trust you.” you assured him, but he let out a soft laugh. He swallowed audibly under your full attention, clearing his throat to speak even softer, “Not you…” You said nothing, needing a moment to understand, “I want you to blindfold me.” Realization hit you, and a gut punch of arousal along with it, “Oh.” With your palm against his chest, you forced yourself up at the same time Yunho let you push him onto his back. You wasted no time in straddling his lap. You leaned forward, stretching yourself to place your hands over his eyes with a giggle. “I didn’t mean we had to do it right now!” he laughed, grasping your hands and removing them from his face to kiss your palms. Placing your hands on his stomach, you rolled your hips over his growing length, “Perhaps not, but I still want you right now.” His hands were already gripping your thighs the moment you moved against him. With a bite to his smirking lips, he followed your motions with actions of his own, “As you wish.”

X

So here you were, after careful planning and orchestration. Without letting them know the details of your plan, you made sure to enlist Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s help, or at least tell them you were trying to make plans for the evening on Yunho’s birthday. You didn’t expect any promises, but Seonghwa did text you this morning to tell you they would try to get him out on time.

You fold and unfold the long piece of silk in your lap, running your fingers over the smooth fabric and appreciating the pink color you chose. It matches the rest of the lace babydoll and panties that cover you.

Part of you is slightly nervous, while the other reminisces about all the reasons you shouldn’t be. Yunho has never been one to make you feel anything less than comfortable or wanted in your relationship, and sex between you is not new.

Perhaps your nerves are born of performance? You must be feeling this way because he specifically wanted this and if you don’t make it great for him then it will be a failure. Yunho has said the same thing to you many times, when he feels nervous about performing for his fans.

Just as you shake your head with resolve to make this wonderful for him, the bedroom door opens and you jump.

There he is, stopped in his tracks, standing with his hand still wrapped around the doorknob as he stares at you sitting there at the end of your bed.

“You’re home.” is what you say, trying to rebound off your surprise. You must have been so lost in thought you didn’t notice the sound of his arrival through the apartment. You don’t miss the way his presence seems to add a fond sense of ‘home’ to the room.

He gulps, an easy smile raising his cheeks. His duffel bag is tossed to the floor in front of the dresser and he closes the door, unzipping his training jacket until that too, is tossed to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, standing in front of you. He dips low to capture your lips in a greeting, waiting for your answer when he regains his full height.

You goad him with a grin, “Why don’t you hurry up and shower so you can find out?”

Yunho’s brows lift momentarily as he turns toward the hamper, smirking back at you as he begins to undress. He takes a peek at your face with every piece that comes off, eating up the way your eyes ogle him in silence.

He checks just once more before ducking into the bathroom, making sure you’re staying put there on the bed.

You refuse to let your thoughts consume you anymore, enjoying the pleasant buzz that sizzles on your skin, left in the wake of his staring. Although it’s new, you were certain he would love this piece on you, having mentioned the few times you’ve worn lingerie, that he loves you most in soft colors that compliment your cuteness. Babydolls are your personal favorite, and he has agreed prior that they’re best for ease of access when he wants to fuck you while keeping something on.

You’re both laughing when your eyes meet after his shower. The unspoken acknowledgment that he’s probably broken a record for his shower time is funny to both of you.

He doesn’t bother with anything more than a towel around his hips, and you pluck it from his grip as soon as he is within reach, “You won’t be needing that.”

He smiles at you, allowing you to tug him forward onto the bed. Yunho’s fingers busy themselves with touching and pinching the lace that delicately hides your skin from him. He lifts the hem in his fist, watching it nearly float back down around you with a sigh.

He definitely loves it.

“I love this on you,” he admits a moment later, his eyes seeking yours. The tone of his voice always melts you like this- when it’s full of love and ardor.

You gesture towards the headboard, allowing him a moment to get comfortable in your requested position before you straddle him. He hisses at the contact of your covered heat against his length, half hard since he came out of the shower from anticipation alone.

Yunho reaches up, collecting you by the nape of your neck and urging you down so he can kiss you. His lips move against yours exactly how you like, slow and building. He does this sometimes, when he wants you to be putty in his hands- not that you ever resist.

Except, today you have to take some control. Pushing past the bubbling nerves in your gut, you lean back. He chases you- leaning forward and consuming you, adamant that he isn’t finished sampling you.

It pulls a gentle moan from your throat when he moves his lips down to it. He holds you in place, caged against his body with his own arms clutching you to him. Your eyes pop open, remembering not to get pulled under the waves of euphoria with him just yet. Today is about his pleasure.

“Yunho,” you say, but it comes out as a whine.

“Yeah, baby?” he coos back, still working his mouth against your neck.

A deep breath leaves you, “Stop for a second.”

Immediately he sits back, with eyes full of concern. He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, and his expression morphs into confusion, followed by realization a moment later when he notices the length of silk in your hands.

You lift it up between you, bashful and smiling. You’re eager for his reaction, and your boyfriend doesn’t disappoint.

“Is it my birthday?” he wonders aloud.

You snort a laugh at him, taking a playful swat at his chest, “It is, you dork.”

He gives you a dazzling, heart-clenching, silly grin at your response, “Oh, yeah.”

“Now sit still, please.” you instruct, unable to hide your growing smile at his immediate and eager obedience.

He waits, eyes closed, but unable to help the way his length twitches against your core as you wrap the silk over his eyes.

“All good under there? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” you ask, not bothering to hold up any at all.

“No, but I can feel both your hands on me so nice try.” he says, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his tone.

He earns himself a swipe of your tongue over his neck at his snarky remark, and the resulting sharp inhale you’re rewarded with is enough sweet justice for you.

He’s smiling when you pull away, tugging here and there to make sure it isn’t too tight nor too loose. He groans when you give him no warning and take his face into your hands, kissing him deeply.

You don’t stop your attention, kissing him until the sound of your lips feels deafening in the silence of the room. His hands grip your waist, gently rocking you back and forth along him in tandem.

It’s enough, you decide, when you break for air and he’s panting with flushed cheeks and heated skin. “Are you going to be okay, baby?”

He swallows thickly, then smiles, and you resist the urge to coo at the way his cheeks look rounder with the blindfold over his eyes. “Keep going.”

“Of course,” you comply in a sultry tone, “Just relax.”

He does as you’ve asked, allowing you to rise from his lap and push his legs apart further. He bites his lip with anticipation- feeling your weight dip the bed between his legs.

You enjoy the opportunity to tease, letting out huffs of your warm breath to ghost along his fully erect cock. He remains still and slack-jawed, awaiting your every movement. Unwilling to waste the moment, you admire him briefly- reclined on your bed, naked in all his glory. Yunho is gorgeous, but knowing he is just as beautiful beneath the surface makes your chest swell with great love.

The sight before you is something you aim to burn into memory for every sleepless, needy night that you miss him. His abs are taut, strained with anticipation and heavy breaths. His arms rest at his sides, feigning relaxation as his fingers dance with a stray thread on the blanket beneath him. His mouth is open just slightly and his brows are knit together in valiant concentration.

The part that pulls a low hum of appreciation from your throat is his full erection. Thick, red and leaking onto his abdomen, you’re spurred into action with the desire to see him a mess.

The first touch you deliver is a kiss, just on the edge of his hip. Slowly and deliberately, you firmly plant wet, open-mouthed kisses lower and closer to where he grows desperate for you. You’re paying attention to his reaction with every ministration and you must admit you are quickly becoming intoxicated with this game.

The power you feel, and how his every tiny reaction drives the spike of arousal deeper into your veins. He holds his breath, knowing the next place your lips will find is his cock if you keep going. With a tactical pause, you skip over it, smiling at his flushed cheeks, and let your lips flutter over the top of his thigh instead.

Yunho releases his held breath with a long and dour groan.

“Please don’t tease.” he whispers quietly, gasping when you suddenly rise up and lave the flat of your tongue around his left nipple. His hand jerks up with the desire to touch, but he resists. You didn’t ever tell him he couldn’t, but let him decide on his own what he wants to do. After all, this is about his pleasure.

The next moment you’ve swooped back down, gently taking the head of him into your mouth, and he reacts with a jerk of his hips and a loud moan. Garbled sounds of pleasure drop freely from his lips, his head thrown back as you take him as far back as you can.

The wet slurping is an erotic audio that pours heat into your own cheeks, and you can imagine that Yunho must feel like that sound is surrounding him with the subconscious focus of his ears.

“Oh, fuck baby… mmm, fuck.” he whines quietly when you use a hand to pump the base of his length that you can’t fit comfortably. He raises a hand again, and you watch as he bites his lip and resists the urge to tangle his fingers in your hair- instead balling a fist and settling it back at his side.

You continue like this for several minutes, switching your rhythm and pattern here and there to stroke or suck him the way you know he likes. When his breath is coming in ragged pants and his thighs begin the slightest tremble, you slow, and eventually release him.

Yunho’s protest is audible, and you cup his cheek at the adorable way his lips are pouted open and his brows are strung together with his plea.

“I want this to last.” you assure him, “It’ll be worth it.”

“Kiss me then,” he barters with you, breathless. His request is one you can comply with, planting a kiss directly to his lips and he tries so hard to kiss you into submission with his plush lips.

“That’s not fair,” you coo.

He smiles, shaking his head and leaning forward, “You’re not being fair.”

Leaning into him, you make sure to wrap your arms around his neck and whisper directly into his ear, “Don’t act like you didn’t want this.”

The resounding moan he tries to suppress is not lost on you, and he settled back with the clearing of his throat.

Straddling his thigh, you settle yourself in a comfortable position to kiss across his chest. Your mouth works higher until you’re biting gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He moans softly in reward, finally allowing himself the pleasure of your skin beneath his fingers, pacified with touching your thigh where it rests.

Your hand reaches down and you let your fingers wrap around his cock again at the same moment you gently suck on the place you’d just bitten. Your boyfriend is louder now, letting a throaty moan peel from his lips with your fist around his aching length.

He hisses when you repeat your marking a little higher, just below his ear. Yunho’s hand grips you tighter, letting it roam beneath the pretty lace, toward the fullness of your ass and digging his fingertips in to urge you into motion upon his leg.

“Fuck.” he whispers lowly on a breath as you set a rhythm with your fist once more. His head falls back against the headboard, his hips softly canting up with every pump.

As if he had intended it that way, his throat is now conveniently exposed for your lips and teeth. You want to make excellent use of his generosity, but the ache of emptiness in your cunt demands more attention.

Wordlessly, you sit up, shimmying yourself out of the matching panties and letting your knees settle on either side of his hips. Every rustle of fabric and movement you make is one that Yunho absorbs with great anticipation.

He doesn’t know exactly what you’re up to yet, but he can smell your perfume and your sex and feel your proximity over him. With wandering hands, he reaches out, tentatively, catching the left side of your waist first. All it takes is a simple swipe of his thumb and the comforting palm of his hand for him to realize exactly what part of your body he is holding, even through the lace.

That notion makes you softer for him, smiling sweetly at the dusty rose on his face as he reaches up to palm your breast. His free hand slides to your back, pulling you closer so he can attach his tongue to the nipple he’s found budding beneath the fabric of your lingerie.

The friction and heat makes you whine, admittedly turned on more than you thought possible with the addition of a simple piece of silk around Yunho’s head.

He spoils you with his hands now, roaming all over your curves, mostly followed by his mouth. He’s still short of breath, but smiles nonetheless when he locates at first your nose and then your lips with his own kisses. He doesn’t try any tricks this time.

His kiss pauses immediately when his hands, having wandered down and beneath the lacy fringe, find you bare. He groans at the feel of your skin, audibly basking in the pleasure it gives him to glide two fingers through your wetness with practiced ease.

Yunho dips one long digit into your heat, eating up the sound of your cry. Your hands hold him at his neck and his shoulder, leaning into his frame to stay steady. His face is less than an inch from your shoulder, and he takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and capture the side of your neck with his mouth.

A second finger joins the first, gliding through your wetness and creating obscene squelching sounds with every thrust into your pussy. You’re beginning to lose yourself, completely indulged in the feeling of him absolutely everywhere.

He loves it just as much, groaning at the sounds you’re making just because of him.

“Does that feel good baby?” he suddenly asks, and the tone of his voice is absolutely sinful.

“Yes.” you whimper into his ear.

He grunts, “I’m gonna come if we keep playing like this.”

The admission is a tempting offer, but you don’t want to end the fun too early. Instead, you think it best to ask him, “What do you want me to do?”

He leans back again, reclining against the pillows, and you allow him to guide you now by feel. To do what he wants with you. “Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” he coos mischievously.

Teasing him further, you take advantage of the position and settle your core over his abs. He makes a sound in his throat akin to a growl and grabs your bottom with both hands and pulls you back into an upright position on your knees.

He kneads the malleable flesh for no longer than a second before he sits up straighter and tells you, “Sit on my cock.”

The dirty words leaving his mouth send sparks up your spine, and you do as you’re told. He’s already got one fist around the base of himself, aiding you in sliding down along the length he’s presented you with.

Watching his face contort with pleasure as you sink over him is by far one of your favorite parts of sex with your boyfriend. He’s so expressive, and the breathy moan that spills from his mouth when you’ve settled completely sends you halfway to heaven already.

Yunho is completely flushed, now. With the rosy tint creeping down his neck to his chest and the two small blooming violets you’ve given him, he adjusts to wrap one arm around your waist while the other is propped behind him on the bed so he can stay upright.

You set to work immediately, rolling your hips over him to a rhythm you can both enjoy. He’s panting again, stimulated to sensitivity from the restriction to his vision.

Mewling sounds leave your mouth, hanging open as you continuously spear yourself on his length. He gives a particularly hard thrust that sends you toppling forward onto his chest. As if he intended it that way, he naturally holds you against him and scoots down the bed- enough to plant his feet firmly so he can rock into you with more strength.

This position is your favorite and he knows it. The sound of your cries amplify with the angle of his cock into your depths, and the sounds are diving right into his ear. You’re rapidly approaching your orgasm in this position.

He grunts, baring his teeth as he thrusts into you roughly. “Fuck, Yuyu… oh my god, fuck, yes.” you breathe the words against him, and he delivers you a loud, rewarding groan.

“I can’t, oh fuck this is so good.” he praddles desperately, slowing to flip you onto your back.

He rips the silk away from his eyes, not bothering to toss it from his hand as his gaze finds your face. The mutually fucked out expressions you share spurs him on, working quickly to push your knee up to your shoulder as he drives his cock deeper into you.

The wildness in his eyes catches you off guard and he can feel your walls tightening around him. Yunho immediately places his thumb on your clit, sending you rapidly spiraling into euphoria. He wants to feel you come undone around him.

The added stimulation sends you over the edge and you seize up, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

He follows you on a ragged breath a moment later, unable to withstand the pleasure. He slows, thrusting steadily at a declining pace and strength until he’s spent, leaning over your frame with a blissful expression.

It takes several moments for you both you regain your breaths, and when Yunho finally slips from your core and rolls onto his side, you think he is simply stunning. You stay in your position for a few seconds longer, spying him as he throws his arm over his eyes and smiles.

“Mmm, baby, you’re amazing. That was...” he pauses to mull over choice words “Incredibly hot.” he breathes, slowly regaining a normal heart rate. You stir at his praise, finding enough strength in your jellied limbs to pull yourself against his chest.

“Did you like it?” you wonder, just to confirm what you already know.

He exhales a soundless laugh, lifting his arm just enough to grin at you, “That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had. Top three personal favorites.”

It’s a running joke between you to sometimes rank the best sex you’ve had together, and you giggle at his opinion, pleased with yourself.

“I put so much work into that, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

He removes his arm finally, placing it around you instead. He squeezes you just enough that his lips can reach the crown of your hair. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday baby.” you finally say with a kiss to his lips.

It isn’t until four days later, the next time you see the rest of his group, that you’re made privy to the fact that he told them- in great detail- about the birthday gift he received from you when Wooyoung makes a joke about using the tie Yunho is wearing as a blindfold.

Your boyfriend fails to meet your sharp gaze when you look at him immediately after. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll get your revenge.

“That’s alright,” you assure the group. “I’ll just have to use handcuffs on him next time, too.”

You keep a stone face until you catch Jongho’s head whip up at your statement, and the look of pure horror on his face sends you into a fit of laughter.

[versadies]

Hey!!! How are you?

Congratulations on your 1k followers

Can I request aries + Kazuha + hc scenario + fluffy...?

Today is the last day of the event, I just saw it today, at least it wasn't after the event ended ;w;

⠀

⠀

I'm thinking about having a nickname to join the anon squad... Maybe 🇧🇷 anon? Your content came to a Brazilian person! Congratulations on your content reaching someone on the other side of the world :)

in the next life (hc scenario, reincarnation au)

penpal: hi hi, i’m doing great ty 🇧🇷 anon!! i’m so happy to know that my content has reached to the other side of the world 🥺🥺 i hope you like this <<3

prompt: aries the ram, red-string soulmate au

pairing/s: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

sypnosis: sometimes, happy endings can only happen in another lifetime. (or, hc on how you and kazuha met during the modern era of teyvat)

includes: slight spoilers to inazuma quests (2.0), fluff/slight angsty, reincarnation au, mentions of death, modern au, rushed ending

soulmates has always been one of the things that made teyvat special.

people had all collectively agreed that meeting their soulmate is one of the most treasuring moment, no matter how strange or hilarious the first encounter is like, no one should ever forget the once-in-a-lifetime moment.

with that said, most stories are usually soulmates– specifically how one meets their fated other. historical moments are no exception to this, such as an archon's first ever encounter with their soulmate during an annual rite, a forbidden love between an immortal being and a human, a sweet story of a soldier and a healer during a certain war, and the list goes on.

but where are stories that contains soulmates who had never met one another? or had a tragic fate that gave them no opportunity to get along with their soulmate anymore?

none.

some would say they'll meet in the afterlife, where they can live on in peace as the world goes on. while some would beg to differ and think that the two soulmates are just bound to not meet.

only little would suggest reincarnation.

and you and your beloved soulmate are one of those little people.

but you honestly didn't think that you and kazuha would be the soulmates with a tragic fate.

the both of you had met thanks to the resistance. when beidou decided to introduce kazuha to kokomi, he met you along the way– the right-hand-person of kokomi and his soulmate.

the both of you had instantly clicked when you met, the wide smile the both of you had appeared when you notice each other's red string being connected.

since then, you were inseparable.

on days when your assigned unit didn't need your assistance at the moment, you usually use those times to hung out with the samurai, often talking about each other's adventures and experiences with the best you can.

it was those days when you incredibly cherished the moments, making sure to remember every second of those moments you had with him before going on battles against kujou sara and her soldiers.

unfortunately for the both of you, the memories that you oh-so cherished would be the last one you'll ever make.

"see you in the next life... kaedehara kazuha," you whispered, staring at the samurai as the both of you lie down on the cold ground with soldiers fighting around the both of you, blood gushing out from your mouth. "whether it'd be in the next life or another, may celestia let us have another chance."

you watched as kazuha smiled lightly, his hand shakily trying to reach out to yours until he intertwines it together. "till we meet again, y/n."

as the war between the resistance and the raiden shogun continued, you and kazuha let out your one last breath before passing away.

much to you and kazuha's hopes, the war against the vision hunt decree won victoriously, with the raiden shogun lifting up the decree and brought inazuma back to its usual peaceful life before the decree.

of course, the resistance alongside the traveler paid respects to you and kazuha's passing, telling you that you and kazuha can rest now that they won.

as centuries flew by, teyvat had a major change among the nations. in this particular century, archons and visions had long been forgotten, with technology around the world being more advanced than before. as for soulmates? they still exist fortunately.

then there's you, a person who found joy in traveling around the world and tell the world about it. at least, that's what people think.

to you, you simply wanted to travel around teyvat to find a person named kaedehara kazuha.

recently, you started getting dreams of a man who goes by kaedehara kazuha. some were usually romantic that it gave you butterflies, some were conversations that you sometimes would forget, and of course, the dreams that often haunt you.

most dreams of yours were always lying down beside the man– who was bleeding to death. was this a sign of him dying? what is the purpose of these dreams?

you didn't know why this was happening to you. are you slowly going insane? or were you just overreacting?

whatever it was, you knew that deep down that it has something to do with your soulmate.

you went high and low around each nation you visited, often asking certain people if they've know a man named kaedehara kazuha, only to receive no useful information that could help you.

of course, your only source that could help you find him is the red string that connects you and your soulmate, following the direction it led you with hopes of it twitching as a sign that you're near.

unfortunately, none of the nations you've visited had no signs of who you're looking for.

your last stop is inazuma, a nation that's infamous for having beautiful firework shows and tourist spots. there's not a single place that isn't worth taking pictures of.

the moment you arrived to the nation using a boat,l you came across to a woman whose name is beidou.

"i don't know a man whose name has a kaedehara, but i have a son who coincidentally has the same name as kazuha!" she exclaims with a grin. "i don't think he's the one you're looking for though, i've never seen him hung out with someone like you or anyone else who isn't gorou."

you smile lightly at the woman, trying to not look disappointed. "i see.. thank you again, miss beidou."

she quickly waved you off. "good luck in finding the man you're looking for!"

the moment you immediately checked in ritou, you started exploring around the nation with no plans of stopping, hoping to see at least one person who looks like the man in your dreams or has their red string connected to your finger.

unfortunately, every area you've visited in the land, you still haven't found the end of the string, your hopes slowly dying down as time flew by.

you decided to explore more the next day, deciding to go back to inazuma city and have dinner in one of their infamous restaurants.

as you sat down on one of the stools while waiting for kanbei to cook your meals, you let out a disappointed sigh. if you couldn't find your soulmate anywhere, where could he be?

what if kaedehara kazuha doesn't exist at all? what if he died before you could even meet him and find out what's going on with your dreams?

you let out another sigh, rubbing the back of your neck in frustration. you hoped all of this wasn't a waste of your time. you honestly don't know what to do if you won't be able to find him at all, let alone what happens after you meet him.

unnoticed by you, your red string started twitching nonstop. a man suddenly enters the place, sitting down one seat away from where you are.

"rough day, kazuha?" kanbei asked, not bothering to look away from the pot as he continues to focus on cooking your meal.

"not exactly. i found a perfect spot to write haiku." the man, kazuha, replied.

as kazuha and kanbei continued conversing, you couldn't help but find yourself slowly drifting to sleep, now feeling the exhaustion from your exploration around the nation.

before you could completely pass out on the counter, you immediately woke up from the delicious smell of your meal, looking up to see the chef being finished with your meal already. perhaps the reviews weren't lying when they said this restaurant is fast with services.

you quietly thanked the chef when he placed the meal down in front of you, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of the delicious meal before digging up, still not noticing the red string twitching nonstop due to your focus on filling your hunger.

"thank you again, kanbei." kazuha speaks up as he grabs the packaged food from the chef's hands and hands over the payment.

"always happy to serve, kazuha. see ya tomorrow." kanbei said, watching as the man walks away from the restaurant.

out of curiosity, you glance at who you assume is beidou's son, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the same man that you've been seeing in your dreams–

along with his red string connecting to yours.

without thinking, you immediately jumped down from your stool, staring at kazuha, who already walked out from the diner without a glance of your direction. "i'll be back and continue eating my meal. apologies for my rudeness!" you exclaim before running towards kazuha's direction without letting a single word come out from kanbei, who was confused at your words.

"kazuha!" you yelled, hoping kazuha would hear your voice despite the sounds of cars and people being loud around the both of you.

you tried to call for the man again, only for you to get frustrated when he still hadn't heard a word from you. was he wearing earphones?!

you immediately look down at your string and back at kazuha, hesitating for a moment before shaking the string aggresively. please, please, please look back! please look like you're him–

you sigh in relief when he finally noticed his string shaking, causing him to stop his trakcs and look behind him to see you running towards him like your life depends on it.

his eyes widens at the sight of you running towards him, your face was all too familiar for him to remember. it can't be, you only existed in his dreams!

the both of you suddenly remember certain memories the both of you didn't even knew you had. memories of which the both of you used to be in. memories of the both of you walking around the infamous serpent head as soldiers trained with all their might for the upcoming war, memories of the both of you watching the stars and wish for the resistance to win victoriously, memories of your past life that you and kazuha had forgotten.

that was enough for kazuha to run towards you as well, his arms suddenly spreading wide open for you to clashed into, dropping his food without a care.

the moment you and kazuha finally had gotten closer, you tackled the man into a hug as tears prickled in your eyes, ignoring the questionable stares the both of you received from people passing by.

"i found you." you whispered, closing your eyes shut as you let out a sound of relief. "after so.. so many months, i finally found you."

kazuha hugs you back, pulling you closer to his body as he sighs in relief. now that there's no more wars or something to run away from, the both of you can start anew and live the life the both of you had wanted back then.

"i missed you."

[ventiskies]

When he rejects you | Chongyun, Scaramouche, Albedo

a/n: hello friends!! i apologize for my somewhat disappearance TwT im currently having exam season but i couldnt help but write something for my favorite three (and yes, scara is there... and honestly, I don't know when I started simping for him either but you can now call me a future scaramouche haver >:)) so not a request, but do enjoy !! <3 (apologies if there are any errors!!)

pairing: chongyun x gn! reader, scaramouche x gn! reader, albedo x gn! reader (platonic)

Chongyun

★ Chongyun, Xingqiu and you had been best friends since you were kids. And although you were a trio, you and Chongyun had always known each other much longer.

★ If your life were a book, it would be a sweet childhood best friends growing up together genre, something that often piqued Xingqiu’s interests when he drags the two of you to Wanwen bookhouse

★ The books you had borrowed from Xingqiu about them all ended with the same thing; that they end up becoming a couple and growing up together. Reminiscing about their childhood youth when they were old.

★ You knew not to trust the books or use them as a guide, but just like the books, you had grown to fall in love with the icy-haired boy.

★ Chongyun was like a breath of fresh air. His determination in exorcising ‘evil spirits' to the point that he blindly falls for Xingqiu and your pranks were the things that you loved about him. He was filled with enthusiasm and positivity (literally).

★ You grew into enjoying his positive attitude, you couldn't imagine a day going by without Chongyun telling you and Xingqiu about a so called 'haunted' place he had found, and forcing the two of you to come with him. and even if it had ended without meeting a single spirit, he would still be in high spirits.

★ you loved it, seeing the rush of thrill he feels whenever he senses a spirit nearby, hoping the spirit was able to withstand his excessive yang energy. the repeating days without one successful exorcism, only to end up getting treated to a meal by Xingqiu, and the parting that always ends with a promise to see each other the day after. Chongyun speaks his emotions, and you were in love with that.

★ and him, just in general.

★ And one day, you had decided to tell him just that

★ You were both on the hunt for Jueyun chilies for Xiangling, a small commission that you had decided to take on while waiting for Xingqiu to finish his work at the guild. The sun had set, and you had returned from Qingce village with a bucket full of the chilies and had decided to rest on top of the mountain where you had both Waypointed to just to admire the sunset.

★ In the heat of the moment, you had spoken.

“I like you, Chongyun,” you had said, looking at him with a smile.

★ You would have accepted a silence. You had expected it to be like the books; he would gently laugh and look at you, admitting that he had been waiting for you to say the exact words, lean in to kiss you. It would be awkward at first, but it’ll also be something to look back to in the future when kissing becomes something you do every day. You’d return back to Liyue Harbor hand in hand, and be able to tell Xingqiu and Xiangling that he was your boyfriend now, and admit to the former that maybe his books were right.

★ But instead, you were met with Chongyun’s wide eyes staring at you. His cheeks flushed red with what you had tried hard to hope was shyness, but had appealed more like panic. He had stood up and cleared his throat

“We- we should get back,” he says, too quickly for someone as calm as he is. And you knew it was a wrong step, “I’m-,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to go ahead first. I'm sorry,”

★ You didn’t know if he was apologizing for leaving early, or for not being able to accept your feelings, but when you hadn't seen him the following day, you could only assume.

Scaramouche

★ Honestly, you had it coming for you.

★ Scaramouche is someone whose life is their job. There was nothing that could distract him from working for the Tsaritsa

★ You had (been self-entitled) as his best friend. And honestly, if Scaramouche knew of it, he doesn't blame you. Everyone in the Fatui and who worked under the Fatui knew how close you were. Which was odd because, for one, you were absolutely nothing like him. Although you weren't exactly liked by everyone, you weren't loathed by everyone like the sixth harbinger was.

★ Scaramouche was feared by anyone who hears his name or walks a foot away from him, while you carried a calmer aura. Without glancing, Scaramouche could bring his subordinates trembling, while they would greet you when you pass by them.

★ You were polar opposites, and yet, everyone has seen the two of you together so much that when he wasn't with you or the other way around, people would assume you were on a solo mission or just leaving the other’s quarters

★ Of course, being his best friend, you weren’t spared of his usual harsh words. As a matter of fact, you probably had it much worse than anyone else. It had almost seemed as if every time he spoke, he spoke like he was trying to get rid of you.

★ But if that really were the case, then he hasn’t been trying his best. You had stayed with him since you had become an ally to the Fatui, and ever since then had stayed by his side. When others shake in fear, you shake your head with a laugh and a retort.

★ It had even come as a surprise to you when you had realized you had fallen for the harbinger. You would think that spending time with such a foul-mouthed person who would murder someone in the blink of an eye with no hesitation would make you dislike him. But that didn’t happen.

★ In fact, it was quite the opposite. You had fallen in love with him.

★ It wasn’t obvious to anyone, and even you had to take the time to squint to look for it. But Scaramouche did care for you in his own way. Whether it be toning down the harsh words when he sees your mood dampen after a mission, or beating the shit out of a person who had attacked you ruthlessly, not stopping even after his hands were covered in crimson liquid and the person almost certainly died. Even if he calls you a hindrance afterward for dirtying his hands, he definitely thought of you the same as you thought of him.

★ A friend.

★ Or, you had hoped, something more.

★ It was a mistake to take his slight kindness as a sign of him liking you, it truly was.

★ During your journey to Inazuma for a mission, you had decided to confess to him out of the blue. You knew he was someone who could predict the outcome of something even before you said anything, so a slow confession when the sun was setting in a field of flowers would just be a waste of time. if there was something you learned, it's to cut to the chase with him.

“Hey Scara,” you had said quietly. He had replied with a low hum, not turning back to look at you, “I like you.”

★ Without a second thought, Scaramouche had taken you by surprise as well.

★ He had not stopped in his tracks, instead, his shoulders shook in laugher. His laugh wasn't the same laugh you hear whenever you make a stupid mishap or get slightly injured during a simple mission- no, those laughs were warmer. Although laced with unkindness, they were more familiar.

★ This one was condescending. As if you were a new recruit again, having to work under him. As if all those years as friends had just gone down the drain.

“Stupid. What a fool of me to assume you were different.” he says, voice clear as a bell in the night, “don’t be an inconvenience. I don't have time for people like you.”

Albedo

★ Ever since working under Albedo with Sucrose, your life had been nothing but full of wonder. Although some were dangerous, Albedo and you bonded easily as if you had worked together in a past life.

★ Albedo was a genius. He was someone you looked up to, and sometime during your investigations, he had become a friend. You didn't know when it started. When it had gone from two alchemists staying the night in Dragonspine to observe the different stages of new plant growth, to- with the permission of the acting grandmaster - just two people, two friends, going out to explore the seven nations.

★ Sucrose and Timaeus had stayed back in Mondstadt to finish experiments that you both had decided to put on hold for your trip, and with nothing to worry about, the two of you had gone out with nothing but the protection of each other (and your visions, of course), and a few packed meals from Good Hunter.

★ Albedo had a side that no one saw unless they spent nights camping with him in the middle of nowhere. You were one of the lucky people who were able to see that side of his during your trips around the seven.

★ The alchemist wasn't just curious about the way the world works, he had also been curious with, well, you.

★ Some nights when he couldn't go to sleep (which was often. You’d be surprised to see how messed up his sleep schedule was), he would sit in front of the fire you had both worked hard to make, and simply talk.

★ sometimes, it would be short conversations. but more than often, you find yourself talking about everything and nothing until the sun rose above the mountains, and you would have to continue your journey until one of you (usually being you,) were too tired to continue.

★ Albedo talks with passion, no matter what the topic is. He could be talking about what you were going to be having for dinner for the next night before you reach the first region in your trip, and he would already have you captivated.

★ Albedo also talks with gentleness. And this was the said side not a lot of people would be able to see from the chief alchemist. Whenever the tent was filled with comforting silence, you would be able to hear Albedo asking you questions about yourself. They weren’t your standard, what was your dream growing up? Kind of questions, but they were more specific. More… personal.

★ Is it not funny, how life works? What if a single moment had changed in the past, I and you wouldn't have met. He would question, eyes trained to the flames burning in front of him. It sounded rhetorical, but his tone was laced with wonder. He sounds as if he was expecting an answer, but he doesn't urge you for one. And every time he does, you merely hum.

★ Albedo was gentle in everything he did. Almost all the time you were with him, he had never acted brashly. He was patient, kind.

★ and that was most likely what had prompted your crush on the alchemist

★ crushing on Albedo was like looking up at the stars. he was someone who shined brightly, but you knew he was too far to reach, yet despite that, you had still attempted to.

★ you had decided to finally let it all out on him the night of your final stay before you reached your final region, which was Inazuma.

★ and that, you had realized a little too late, had been the icing on top of a really terrible cake.

"Albedo," you had stared, and the alchemist immediately turned towards you. that was something you had grown fond of. you knew Albedo was a man married to his work, so when he turns to you in the midst of it, you felt your stomach churn in delight, "I have to tell you something,"

“Hm?” he hums, setting his notepad down to give you his full attention, “what is it, y/n?”

★ You took a deep breath, and the moment you had opened your mouth to tell him, you had a sinking feeling you had made a huge mistake.

“I like you, a lot,” you muttered, “not just platonically, Albedo. I… I think you're really interesting. and if you'd like, I would love to be with you. ”

★ Albedo’s face had fallen, and although it had been the slightest, you had still noticed it. He looked at you as if the cogs were turning in his brain, and finally, he looks down

“I must apologize,” he starts, and you feel your stomach drop, “but I’m not interested in you that way, y/n. If it makes you feel better, I see you as a very dear friend,”

★ You nod, apologizing to Albedo before he offers a small smile before continuing his research

★ You both did not speak of it, but there was a very thick air of silence hangs over the two of you afterward, that didn't dissipate even after you both left the camp.

[ejzah]

If you don't mind writing fanfic about the team learn about what Deeks had had to do to the clerk in Afghanistan to save them, and they try to talk to him about it?

A/N: Once again, this is quite an old prompt.

***

It All Comes Out

Deeks yawned, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. It didn’t make the words on his laptop screen any less blurry. He hadn’t slept much since bringing Kensi home from Afghanistan three days ago.

Today was the first day they were back on active duty after following the requisite psych evals. As usual, Deeks had lied through his teeth, pushing down all his fear, trauma, and guilt to pass his and only provided a few tidbits to satisfy the psychologist.

In truth, he couldn’t get the image of Kensi laying lifeless in a pool of her own blood. It didn’t matter that he now knew the image was fake, it haunted his dreams, hence his exhaustion. Still, he was willing to put up with a thousand sleepless nights to have Kensi alive and well. Or at least on her way there.

The sound of several people coming down from OPS snapped Deeks out of his thoughts and he tried to refocus on his half-finished case report.

“Hey Deeks, you got a minute?” Callen asked as he, Sam, Eric, and Nell gathered in front of his desk. Something about his tone, purposely devoid of any specific emotion, instantly put him on edge. As did Nell’s worried expression. She kept flicking glances in Eric’s direction, apparently unable to help herself.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to face an inquisition,” Deeks joked, not having the energy to carry off his usual sarcasm.

“We need to talk about something,” Sam said, unusually vague.

“Yeah, I figured that much out.” Deeks pushed himself back from his seat, folding his arms over his chest as he looked at each of them in turn. “Seriously, why the intervention?”

“Before we left Afghanistan, the interpreter who stayed with you approached me,” Callen started. Deeks stilled, not needing him to finish to know what he was about to say. “He said you got a little…rough with your interrogation.”

Guilt and shame suffused Deeks, and he dipped his head, unable to face them.

“You mean tortured,” he whispered.

“That’s not the word he used,” Sam said. Oddly enough, he didn’t sound judgmental.

“But it’s essentially what happened.” Far too late, Deeks remembered that they were in a very public place for this discussion. Nell must have read his expression because she stepped forward, resting her small hand on his.

“Deeks, don’t worry, everyone else is gone for the night and I made sure to pause all video and audio feeds for now,” she told him. “This conversation stays between the five of us.” Even now, given what she knew, she was still protecting him.

“And we’re not here to judge you,” Sam added quietly. “We just want to know what happened.”

“Makar didn’t tell you?” That surprised him a little. Deeks knew Makar had anticipated he would go too far. He seemed like a good man and Deeks didn’t fault him for reporting his actions to Callen. It was what an honest, moral man would do.

“No, he just said it got a little out of hand,” Callen answered. “But the rest was your story to tell if you decided. So, what happened?”

Deeks pursed his lips, swallowing the acid that rose in his throat.

“I was questioning the cleric and um, I got the staged photo of Kensi…Uh, the picture that made it look like she died, and I snapped,” Deeks explained in a low voice.

Eric hissed something under his breath, but Deeks ignored him.

“I yelled at him, kicked his chair down, pulled my gun on him, determined to make him pay for Kensi’s death. And then, when he still wouldn’t tell me anything, I tried to waterboard him.” Deeks swallowed again, nausea rising in his stomach, and tears filling his eyes at the memory of what he’d done.

“Damn,” Sam muttered.

“Makar tried to convince me to stop,” Deeks continued doggedly. Now that he’d begun, he needed to get it all out. “He told me that it wouldn’t change anything, that it wouldn’t bring Kensi back, and the cleric would never talk, but I was too caught up in my anger and need for revenge.”

“Something must have changed because you did stop, Makar told me that much and the cleric didn’t have any noticeable injuries when we returned,” Callen pointed out. “So what happened.”

“I started pouring the water on him, and he was shaking, making the most horrible noises, anything to try to get free,” He gasped softly, tears filling his eyes. “I couldn’t keep doing that to him, no matter what he’d done or knew. I’m not that person.”

There was a long silent after he finished and he dully stared up at them. Nell had tears in her eyes and after hesitating a little, moved forward, bending across his desk to hug him. It caught him by surprise and he remained stiff, barely returning her embrace.

“This is all our fault,” Eric said quietly from behind her. At Deeks’ confused look, he explained, “If we hadn’t sent that picture to you—”

“Eric, don’t you dare blame yourself. I’m responsible for my own actions and I demanded that you send me that picture even though you warned me it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Maybe, but we knew you were already in a stressful situation,” Nell said, taking a step back. “We also knew that the picture might be fake. Hetty never should have given in and we shouldn’t have sent it to you. That’s on us.”

“Either way, I crossed a line that I promised myself I never would, and I’ll spend the rest of my life and whatever career I might after this, trying to make up for that,” Deeks told them all.

“Relax, Deeks. We’re not looking to get you kicked off the team or seeking formal action of any kind. I think we all know what it’s like to cross a line when it comes to someone we care about.” Callen glanced at Sam, who nodded back. “That being said, you need to talk someone about all of this. We all know how this kind of case can effect you in the long term. It doesn’t have to be someone in-house..”

“And that’s it?”

“No. Remember you can always come to one of us if you need it,” Sam added. “You’re a good man, Deeks. Don’t let one mistake define you.”

Deeks nodded, appreciating their support, but he knew no amount of therapy, or apologies, would ever fix what he’d done to that cleric.

***

A/N: Obviously some of Deeks’ thoughts are a reflection of his own feelings about himself rather than what I think or feel. Additionally, I almost feel that Deeks would have admitted what he did to Kensi, if not someone else not the team.

Thanks for the prompt!

[zodiyack]

Who’s Watching

Requested by @cai-neki​: May i ask a request; Youngest Shelby!reader one an angsty again, where someone's haunting the reader (she couldn't grasp if it's a past memory or person) ending up into various looks from her brothers thinking she may have a trauma but it turns out there is really someone following her around. Kinda long and messsy but yeah.

Pairing: Shelby & Gray Family + Shelby!Female!Reader

Warnings: Stalkers, swearing, my horrible reference in the title, angst

Words: 1,642

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @peakysputain​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @cai-neki​, @simonsbluee​, @marquelapage​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @thewarriorprincessxo​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as she slammed the front door shut behind her, back pressed against it. Her brothers walked in to see what the noise was about, surprised to see their sister’s disheveled body blocking the door.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Arthur exclaimed first. He eyed her with wide curious eyes, not all that sure whether he should be mad at her or getting revenge for her.

“S- some- someone-” She couldn’t form a full word with how heavy she was breathing, gasping for air as she rested her hands on her knees.

“Someone what? Did they follow you?” Tommy moved to the windows, looking around before drawing the blinds. “Are you alright?”

“W-wat-wah-”

“Water. Get her some water, Finn!” Arthur yelled before turning back to his sister. “Nod or shake your head. Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

“Do you need help?”

Again, she shrugged.

“Did they want to kill you?”

She shrugged once again, this time taking the water as Finn passed the glass to her.

“Can you stop fucking shrugging?”

A few gulps of water later, the cold liquid soothing her dry throat, she spoke up. Her breathing was still off, but she was recovering. “Someone was following me. I don’t know if they’re trying to kill me or if they followed me home, I just know that I did the thing you taught me-”

“What thing?” Finn furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Tommy. He told me that if I got a bad feeling about someone walking in the same direction as me, to turn a couple times, walk in directions off-route. This person followed me even then. As soon as I realized that, I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t even take the time to look back.”

“Good girl.” Every head in the room turned to Pol, who leaned against the door-frame of the family room. She slowly walked forward, moving her niece aside to look around outside the door before shutting it and locking it. Tommy gave her a questioning glance, to which she replied, “all clear at the front door.”

“Alright. Finn, go check the back, Arthur, can you patrol the house? If one of the doors were unlocked, they could have gotten in while we were talking.”

“Yep.”

The three waited in the main room for over an hour. Tommy and Polly took turns comforting Y/n as they waited for the boys to return. When Finn and Arthur did indeed return, Tommy was suddenly more doubtful than Y/n expected. Finn confirmed that all the doors were locked, Arthur reporting no one but themselves in the home.

Thomas turned toward his sister. “Are you sure someone was following you? Did you forget a turn and assume they were?”

“What?” Y/n’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, hurt that her brother would question her. She was horrified, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, when she ran inside. The entire time she was running, her body felt uneasy, like she would faint had she stopped for even a second. It felt like her stomach had dropped.

“Are you one-hundred percent serious?”

“Yes- well- I-” It was ironic. She’d looked like she’d seen a ghost and for a split second, she thought it was a ghost. Had she been hallucinating? No, the chase felt too real. Whether it be a person or something from long ago, she knew it was after her. “I don’t know if they were human but-”

“You don’t know if they were human?” Arthur cackled. “Tommy, she thinks a mummy ran after her!”

“I never said that!”

“Was it a werewolf? Was he going to eat you? Gobble you up?” Arthur continued to poke fun. Only Thomas, Polly, and Y/n remained straight-faced. Polly noticed Y/n tearing up, the genuine hurt in her eyes saying that whatever it was, she was still terrified for her life.

“Arthur. Stop.” Although he continued to chortle, Finn’s laughter faded as he made eye-contact with his aunt. “Arthur.”

Finn nudged Arthur harshly. He stopped laughing and turned to Pol. “Yeah?”

“Stop teasing your sister right this damn moment or I’ll find whatever was chasing her and let it have you instead. She was beyond terrified. Look at her!” Polly snapped. “Can’t you see she thought she was literally going to die?!”

As the arguing went on, Y/n sighed and headed to her room. Her aunt was a great save, but that didn’t mean she believed her either. Only defending her due to catching how mortified she was. The embarrassment gifted to herself by a simple overthinking thought. ‘What if I was only imagining things...’ her brothers made her second guess herself.

The night went on, lights turning off, Shelbys and Grays lying in their beds, until everyone in the home was fast asleep. The windows and doors were locked, blinds drawn, and home quiet. The creaking of the wood, however, was new. It sounded like someone was stirring, but no one was awake to hear it.

Screaming awoke the members of the Shelby home. John had just returned, Ada as well, and had a head start to their sister’s room. She had sat up so quick it felt like she should’ve gotten whiplash. When the other four got to Y/n’s room, Ada was sitting on the bed beside Y/n, holding her close to her, and John was sitting on the edge of the bed, shooting her a sympathetic look.

“Did you see them again?” Finn inquired. Arthur slapped him up the back of the head, earning a glare from his little brother. “I’m being serious!” He whisper yelled at Arthur, only to be ignored.

“See who?” Ada looked at her family with widened eyes of confusion. She turned to her sister then back to her brothers and aunt. “What happened?”

“Ada. I’ll um...tell you in the study, okay?” Polly mumbled softly. Ada nodded and rose from the bed, hugging Y/n reassuringly before walking to her aunt. Both women stopped in their tracks as Y/n’s voice sounded again.

“I had a nightmare. The same person. They were in...here. My room. They opened my door and began to walk over to my bed. I couldn’t move. I was terrified. I thought it was all over, but another door opened and the person ran away. I screamed when I could, but for some reason, it was delayed.” She didn’t even take a break to breath or rethink details. It was like she was reliving it even at that very moment.

Tommy looked concerned. He whispered something to Pol before gathering his brothers and the other two females. They left the room, Tommy closing the door behind him, and left Y/n by herself to meet in the study.

“She’s got some kinda flashbacks or something like that.” Finn commented.

“We went to war, she...well, whatever happened, it wasn’t as bad as war. I doubt it’s some kind of thing she’d seen. Perhaps it’s her imagination again.” Arthur grunted in response.

The three older brothers had dealt with PTSD before, the effects similar to Y/n’s awakening, but Arthur didn’t believe she was hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The man wanted his little sister to be safe, and knowing he couldn’t keep her so would hurt him more than the war did.

“I say it’s a trauma.”

“What kind?” Ada was quick to question Thomas, as per usual. “Injury related or event caused?”

“Either. If she hit her head, perhaps walked into something on the way home, or if she saw something she didn’t want to see...”

Unbeknownst to the family in the study, Y/n was on the other side of the doors. She pushed them open with a furry. “I’m not traumatized. Nothing that happened is from my imagination or some injury! This person is real and no matter what you do or say, they won’t stop.” She stormed out just as quickly as she stormed in, leaving her family to dwell in her warning.

She hadn’t left the home all day. It concerned the family, but they understood. No one had spoken a word to her since she’d made her point. When it was time to sleep again, Ada and Pol were the only ones to bid her goodnight, the boys cowardly, even more so when it came to admitting it.

The creaking occurred again. Y/n was awake this time, wide awake. The dream felt just as real as her escape had. Last night, she’d fallen asleep, given the person an advantage. Not tonight, she swore, not tonight.

Footsteps grew louder as they neared her door, the small squeak of the door opening causing Y/n to clench her eyes shut. Cold air followed the stranger; Y/n thought to herself, the person must have opened a window...but they were all locked, were they not?

She couldn’t be certain.

They stood over her bed, hesitating for whatever reason. Y/n had her own advantage this time. She wasn’t in sleep paralysis, she wasn’t incapable of showing the stalker what Shelbys learn since birth. Right as they reached for her, the mirror next to the wall by her bed positioned so she could see them, she slid under their squatted legs and darted out her bedroom door.

Behind her was not her concern as she ran for a specific room. Their footsteps thundered loudly, yet not loud enough to wake the rest of the family. Hot on her trail, they aggressively swung for her, but her distance was just far enough that they couldn’t reach her fully.

Reaching the room, she grabbed the first gun in sight, turning and firing. A few seconds later, steps padded throughout the house and stopped at the door. There they saw their little sister with a gun, standing over the person who’d been stalking her, wounded but not dead.

“Told you.”

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

Hey honey! You think you can make a part two to the recent fic with Steve? where the reader and Steve are both turned to super soldiers and both go into ice? Steve’s found first and thinks the reader is dead until the reader pops up in an avengers interview years later with Bucky by his side because he saved Bucky?

Sorry baby I already commented this but I just thought I’d send it here too❤️

A/n: I am LIVING for the pet names, thank you for sending the request here! It makes it easier for me. I hope you like it!!

Plot: Requested

Pairing: Steve rogers x Male reader

Y/n: Your name

L/n: Last name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: Angst, cussing, temporary death, reader is also a super soldier, fluff

Word count: 1302

As the plane nose-dived towards the cold ocean, all Steve could think about was Y/n, the man he loved more than anything. His head turned to the side, locking eyes with the other man, any words Peggy was saying was blocked out as the lovers wordlessly gave their goodbyes. The H/c haired mans fingers intertwined with his own, bringing Steve’s hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

The plane hit the water with a thundering crash, and Jesus it was colder than anything Steve could’ve imagined. He squeezed Y/n’s hand as hard as he could as they sank into the abyss, selfishly happy that if they died, they at least died together.

Death was colder than Steve thought it would be, but that belief slapped him in the face as his baby blue eyes fluttered open, met with harsh sunlight shining into his eyes. For a second, he thought it was all a dream, looking to the side to find the spot next to him empty.

“Y/n?” His voice was hoarse, throat burning with apparent disuse. His gut twisted, a sick feeling festering in him. The super soldier had escaped the room and had come to an alarming conclusion. He was no longer in the 1940’s, he was in the 2010’s now and he was all alone.

The thought hit him harder than a train, making his knees weak and it felt as though there was a hole where his heart used to be. In such a short span of time (For him) he’d lost the two most important people in his life. Apparently when they’d found Steve in the ice, Y/n was nowhere to be seen. His body had never been recovered and Steve had to live with that guilt and pain every day for the rest of his life.

He was given a distraction in the form of the Avengers, a group of extraordinary people fighting the battles no one else could. It didn’t fill the hole in his chest, but he no longer felt so alone in this world. He had a purpose again, saving as many people as he could with his newfound family.

The only thing he had from his past was a photo of Y/n that he kept in his compass, the H/c haired man’s head was thrown back in laughter, his beautiful E/c eyes screwed shut as he laughed at some cheesy joke Steve had told.

Every day he missed the other man, but over time the pain became easier to handle. He pushed himself into his workload, designating himself as the captain of his team. He fought many battles and over time he selected new enhanced individuals to join the team.

Today was another day of interviewing people Nick Fury had specifically chosen out, himself and the other Avengers picking them apart to decide if they were good enough to join his team. The super soldier was honestly ready to call of the rest of the interviews for the day, so far no one had even slightly peaked interest, and he was beginning to believe that the team was fine the way it was.

Imagine his surprise when two familiar faces he hadn’t seen in 70 years walked in. Bucky, God how he had missed his best friend, looked very different. His brunette locks had grown long and shaggy. His once shining blue eyes were now dulled, a haunted look permanently reflecting in his orbs.

Then there was Y/n, he looked a bit different, but he still made Steve’s heart pound and made his knees feel like jelly. Steve was out of his chair before he could even process it, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor falling on deaf ears.

He had no control of his body as he moved forward, ignoring all the questions and looks his team was throwing at him. His arms were around Bucky before he could even think about it, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. He didn’t miss the way the other man tensed up, before hesitantly hugging back.

After a moment he pulled away and his attention was turned towards the man he had been endlessly longing for since the moment he woke from the ice. “Y/n…” It hurt Steve to realize how odd it was to say his name once again, part of him was terrified this was just a dream and he’d wake up alone in bed once again.

His baby blue eyes found the E/c eyes he dreamed about nightly, his heart twisting. Y/n’s hands cupped his cheeks, a delicate smile playing on his lips. “Hey Stevie.” Oh, how he’d missed hearing his voice, and hearing that nickname. He leaned into the other man’s touch; eyes fluttering shut.

An embarrassing sound left his lips as Y/n kissed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He brought up his shaky hands, cupping the sides of the other man’s neck, ignoring the indignant sound Tony made as the two men kissed.

Steve refused to pull away until his lungs begged for air and his head felt fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. His forehead rested against the H/c haired man’s own, heart pounding wildly against his rib cage.

“How are you alive?” Steve whispered, thumb brushing against Y/n’s pulse to reassure himself that he was actually there. The sound of Y/n humming met his ears, causing his body to relax a bit.

“Hydra.” The reply felt like a punch to the gut, he knew Hydra had still existed, not long ago they’d found out shield had been infiltrated by the organization. The idea of those monsters having Y/n or Bucky made him sick to his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to rip them apart with his bare hands.

When Steve didn’t reply, Y/n continued.

“Guess they found the ship and grabbed me; I don’t remember when. I remember bits and pieces and then I found Bucky there too. Took a lot of time and a lot of planning but I finally got us out about a year ago, when you had brought down shield. After that we hunted Fury down and set all of this up.”

Steve could tell it was heavily simplified, probably not wanting to spill his and Bucky’s story to a room of strangers.

There moment was broken by Sam speaking up, an eyebrow raised. “Cap, you gonna tell us what the hell is going on?”

The super soldiers reluctantly pulled away from each other, Y/n giving the team an awkward wave. The action was so painfully familiar that Steve couldn’t help but bark out a short laugh. That caused a smirk to spread across his boyfriends’ lips, and Steve would tear the world apart to see him smile like that again.

“Uh hi, I’m Y/n and this is my stabby best friend Bucky. We fought with Steve in World War II.” Tony let out a groan, mumbling about there being more old men on the team. Steve simply ignored his friend, speaking up.

“This is my partner, Y/n and my best friend Bucky. Bucky is who Natasha and I have been looking for, for the last year.” Steve felt a bit awkward as the team fired questions at the trio, but Steve couldn’t find himself caring, not when he had Y/n back.

The world had torn them apart from each other, but now he had the man he loved back. He didn’t care if he had to fight a thousand more wars, as long as he had Y/n by his side he felt like he could do anything.

[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

i am so sorry if you don’t do requests like these (i couldn’t find the rules for req on your navigation but i might be blind) the following i’m about to request might be triggering so please ignore my req if you need to (tw: mentions of sexual abuse) can you do a dazai x reader comfort where the reader has been sexually abused as a kid and although it’s been a long time the trauma still lingers? regardless of whether you do it or not ILY - random anon who simps for dazai

I actually don’t have rules made (i should probably do that...). Personally I have very little I won’t write.

Whispers of comfort | Dazai comfort x reader |

Warnings: mentions of past sexual abuse

(wasn’t sure if you wanted a scenario or hc so I went with a scenario. I hope you enjoy it.)

Beneath every smile, there’s a tear. Behind every cloud there is light. Even under the dark cloud of the night snuggled up besides Dazai, thoughts haunted the mind. The blankets were neatly tucked around for warmth in the cold atmosphere. Despite how comfortable your body was, the everlasting cold of memories refused to leave you. Of course, you knew you were safe in his arms. Yet, it still haunted your mind. You’d been a child then, you were not them anymore. You were not there, it would never happen again. 

Attempting to fall back asleep, you let your eyes drift shut. Immediately you shivered under the images. Darting your eyes open, you sat up hoping not to wake your loving boyfriend. Running your hands over your skin you shuttered. The unwanted touches still felt like they lingered no matter how many years passed, and how many times you tried to rub yourself clean. Your eyes had started watering in your frustration, it went unnoticed by you.

As arms wrapped tenderly around your waist, your body acted on its own, flinching with a soft fear. Moving from the soft grip to provide safety. “Darling?” dazai’s voice made its way through the frigid air. A slight hurt mixed with sprinkles of confusion wrapping around the name he called you. Turning your head to look at him you went to apologize before he shook his head, reaching his hand out to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, cupping your cheek. Once more you tugged away not wanting the touches. Even if they were from him, your current state wouldn’t let you feel the difference, the warmth of his hands felt cold against your cheek. 

“It's nothing. I just need a moment.” Once again your hands rubbed your wrists and your arms. He thanked the intelligence that made him feel separated from humanity. Carefully he gave you space, connecting the dots. He lacked skills in comfort, but he knew he had to at least try to help you.

“Do you… want to talk about it? We have ice cream… I could get you some of that. Or maybe you just want to soak in a warm bath by yourself. I could get one started for you.” thinking about it for a moment you looked into his eyes. Gathering words to speak, you sighed.

“It happened when I was a kid. You probably figured that out though. Some ice cream sounds good.” Dazai nodded reaching out to you before pulling back. He flipped the light on, noticing your tears, anger rose over him. It didn’t matter when this happened, it pained him to see you like this. If he knew who had inflicted such a trauma, he might lose all ability to hold himself back. He was protective like that. He hated seeing anybody lay even the smallest sliver of pain on you. 

He came back with the whole tub. Setting it next to you, he watched as your lips curled into a small smile, though it was forced. He took a seat near the headboard, keeping a distance from you as you’d asked. “Can I play with your hair?” He truly wanted to make you feel comfortable and safe. He’d always protect you. No matter what kind of situation it was. Be it something mental or physical, he wanted to make it known he cared.

Nodding your head, you waited for his fingers to lightly run through your hair. He rubbed at your skull in soft massaging motions. His hands never left the specific spot he’d asked to touch. He never brushed his hands against your neck, nor did he lean too close. He had a history of being one of those men. A womanizer, somebody who treated them as if they were objects. You woke him up to that. He’d found somebody to love. It didn’t matter your gender, you’d given him a real good scolding when you learned of his flirtings and habits. He now sees why you freaked out on him. “You’ve really changed for the better,” you whispered the words as you spooned more of the sweet into your mouth.

His head tilted when he noticed you read him like a book for a moment. “I guess…” he mumbled, wanting so badly to lean down and kiss the top of your head. He withheld doing anything you didn’t specifically say you wanted, or he could do. “Can I move my hands to your shoulders?” there was hesitation but you nodded, feeling his hands delicately trail down; leaving the softest touches. They were comfort touches, nothing more than that; His fingers didn’t linger or halt. They reached the edge of your shoulders before going back to the top of your head and trialing back.

They felt nice, these were the kinds of touches you enjoyed. Soft and delicate brushes wrapped with affection and worry. Shifting your weight back, you ended up brushing your back against his legs. You didn’t flinch knowing he wouldn’t do anything. Though it still made your heart panic for a moment. “Could you do that with my arms?” you mumbled the plea softly.

Hesitating, Dazai nodded, taking two of his fingers and brushing them along your arm. He stopped above your wrists and moved his hand back to your head, running them down again. You sat in silence, listening to his calm breaths and basking in the soft feeling of his hands. “Are you alright if I pull you closer? Just a hug, you can say no. It's your body I'd never want to invade you. You're in control here, okay? I’m only ever going to touch you when you want it, and where you want it.” he was reassuring you he’d never try anything. Inhaling you nodded. You made the first move. Slipping onto his lap you gave yourself time to adjust and feel comfortable. Your hands grabbed his, wrapping them tightly around yourself. 

It was such a small thing, but you pressed into the contact. You had no idea how much you needed something like this. To be in control of a situation, to feel safe in another person's embrace. To trust them and feel nothing but a strange comfort. The disgusted feeling was pulled away as you snuggled into him. Leaning your head on his arm, tears fell, but they were the kind of tears that fell under the sun; When there were few clouds but speckles of water still fell. Dazai moved his thumb under your eye, wiping such tears from your cheek. He leaned down and planted the softest kiss there. The kiss was only meant to give comfort, and that is what it did. 

At some point within his gentle hold, and whispers that told you how much he cared, you fell asleep; He whispered soft mumbles of how much he would always adore you, no matter what you looked like, what you went through, or what you did; He soothed you into a peaceful sleep. Laying you down he didn’t let you go from his arms. Keeping you in the comfortable closeness, he closed his eyes, slowly he drifted into dreams.

[little-diable]

All those nights - Arvin Russell (fluff)

Thought I’d give writing for Arvin a try, enjoy my loves. xxx

Warning: somewhat of a spoiler, I guess? 

“I’m not doing that, no more,” little Arvins voice echoed through the forest, the tight grip he had on his flashlight made his knuckles turn white, eyes set on his father kneeling frame. “I’m not doing that, no more,” he repeated once again, freezing as he grasped his fathers unresponsive figure-

With a gasp Arvin awoke from the ever repeating dream, he could still smell the foul scent that engulfed him that night, the uneasy feeling settling in his bones, cake stains all over his face. His eyes fell upon his watch, 2.45am, what a time to wake from such a horrible memory. Arvin wasn’t one to talk about his fears, about the haunting voice in his mind, reminding him of all the sins his father had unconsciously lived through.

He rose from the bed, putting on his blue, washed out jeans, a flannel on top of his white shirt, as if it would protect the fabric from getting soaked by the rain. 

“Arvin?” Lenoaras voice made him freeze, he was just about to creep outside, he had to see her, had to find her, to calm the raging storm inside his mind. “Go back to bed,” he shot her one last glance, the dark cap he wore projected a shadow onto his frowning features, not giving her enough room to find his distressed expression. 

The trucks roar echoed through the night, the all too familiar sound made him sink deeper into the leather seat, eyes set on the dark road. Soon she’d sit besides him, like she’d do almost every single day, sitting in the seat he had reserved for her, for her only. Arvin didn't think about any way to wake her up, her parents wouldn’t let him inside for sure, at least not in the middle of the night, soaking wet clothes dripping onto the floor, leaving a puddle on the wooden parquet. 

Arvin placed a cigarette between his lips, it seemed like a routine, like something that was burned inside his mind, as soon as he’d park in their driveway, he’d light up another cigarette, eyes focused on her front door, waiting for the all too familiar rush of adrenalin as (y/n) would step out into the crispy morning air. 

The nights dark veil engulfed him, Arvin walked towards the house, eyes looking for her window, no light was burning inside the house, not even the shadow of a light up candle could be found. He grasped a few pebbles, maybe he’d have to try his luck like this, thankful for all the hours he got to play with his dog, throwing the ball as far as possible, aiming for nothing specific. 

Arvin took another drag off his cigarette, blowing the blue smoke out into the night, he deeply exhaled, throwing the pebble against her window, calling her name. He had to repeat the motion at least 5 times, till her silhouette finally appeared behind the glass of her window, eyes finding his nervous frame. 

“Arvin?” (y/n) walked out the house, whispering his name, dressed in her nightgown, hair pulled upwards in a tight bun, a yawn made it past her lips. Arvin tugged her against his chest, arms slung around her middle, inhaling her intoxicating scent, he finally found peace. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he mumbled against her hair, eyes closed, the warm feeling flooding through him, pulling her even closer into his chest. 

“Another nightmare?” (y/n) kissed his neck, her hot breath fanned across his skin, making goosebumps appear on the spot, he nodded his head “yes”, no further words left their mouths. She stepped out of his embrace, interlaced her fingers with hers and walked up to his truck, smiling as she sunk down into her seat.

”Let’s go for a ride,” Arvin had his hand placed on her thigh, thumb tracing loose patterns into the fabric of her nightgown, even now, dressed like this, she managed to take his breath away, gorgeous as ever. 

“The starts are shining so bright tonight,” (y/n) couldn’t force her eyes off the twinkling stars, praying to catch another shooting star, all the things she’d wish for, or maybe just hoping that Arvin would finally be able to come clean with his past. 

“I love you,” his voice made her turn towards him, a smile bright than ever playing on her lips. “I love you too,” he pulled her in for a kiss, tasting her sweetness on his tongue.