#asks you to recount your traumatic experiences

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Random fhau lore of the night that I forgot to mention in the prologue:

Mr Clarke is like one of the leading brains of the resistance

He's been working with the kids (before they left I mean) to get a better understanding of the Upside Down and how it works so that Hawkins is more prepared to face it

And he, along with a team of gov scientists, military strategists, and other members of the resistance, is trying to figure out a way to stop it from taking over the town

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 36

SMUT WARNING AHEAD - Do not continue under the line unless you are over 18.

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The world outside grew dark long before you and Azriel even considered leaving the dining room. You both lounged back, continuing to pick various stragglers of food off plates, savoring the remnants of your meal. Azriel, in a particularly responsible moment, insisted you drink water along with the wine you were enthusiastically downing. You scolded him for being an old codger, but followed his instructions, managing to stay delightfully tipsy without crossing into outright drunkenness. To your amusement, the House had decided to add a bit of mood music to the evening, lilting violins, pianos, and flutes drifting in through the dining room doors, as though a small orchestra had gathered a few rooms down. You rolled your eyes at it all, but appreciated how hard the House seemed to be trying to involve itself in your evening.

Azriel’s guard had clearly dropped. His wings were relaxed, almost draping onto the floor. His feet crossed at the ankles, extended fully in front of him. His curls fell lazily over his forehead, left unattended. At some point, he noted with a relaxed sigh that while he was enjoying the evening, the chair was starting to cramp his wings. You teased him about his ancient age and possible arthritis before the two of you stood from the table. The plates magically cleared themselves as you made your way to the sunken living room, where a fire roared invitingly, and the music followed you, almost like the House was a small child, peeking around doorways at the two of you, giggling as it watched.

Azriel nearly flopped onto the couch, his wings spreading lazily onto the floor. You settled on a cushion on the floor in front of him, propped against the adjoining chaise. He extended a scarred hand to you, tracing the backs of your fingers with his thumb absentmindedly, his touch sending a warm tingle up your arm.

As he recounted stories of his childhood with Rhysand and Cassian, you concluded that Cassian had always been a bit of a wrecking ball, while Rhysand, despite his occasional complaints, often orchestrated their antics. Azriel, it seemed, was the quieter one, often cleaning up the chaos left by his brothers but never left behind, always dragged into their mischief. You shared your own fragmented childhood memories, laughing as Azriel noted with a smirk, “You were quite the tyrant.”

You brushed tears of laughter from your eyes, recalling a particularly rebellious moment when you made another child at the pleasure house walk around on his hands and knees, meowing like a cat, because Titania wouldn’t let you keep a flea-ridden tomcat as a pet. “He agreed to it!” you countered, leaning back, having doubled over in raucous laughter.

Azriel’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “I don’t think he had much of a choice.”

Your laughter subsided as you glanced at the clock, which rudely announced that it was close to three in the morning. You flicked your eyes to Azriel, who seemed unfazed by the late hour, only smiling at you. “You should get to bed,” you said, clearing your throat.

Azriel shrugged, making no move to rise. “I have nowhere to be.”

You stood, brushing off the cushions strewn around you, hand outstretched to him. “Well, I need to go to bed.”

“Tired?” he asked, taking your hand but making no motion to get up.

“Of you,” you teased, feigning annoyance.

Azriel smiled coyly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Am I that hard to be around?” His eyes glimmered with mischief, almost catlike. You leaned back, trying to pull him from his relaxed position, grunting with effort.

You strained as you leaned back farther, “I suffer you every day.”

“Seems rather odd that we both claim to suffer in each other’s company and yet can’t seem to get rid of each other,” he remarked, his tone teasing. Despite all your yanking and tugging, he remained unmoved, his arm merely bobbing slightly. Then, with almost no effort, he yanked back, and you stumbled forward, crashing into his chest. Your knees hit the floor as you collided with him, and he scooped up your hips, positioning you to lie on top of him, chest to chest, legs entangled.

“Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment,” he whispered, his lips just inches from yours.

Your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “Well, you’re certainly persistent,” you murmured back, your voice a playful challenge.

His eyes sparkled with amusement, his thumb drawing a lazy line along your jawline. “Only when it comes to things I really want,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Your heart raced as you leaned in, your lips brushing his. “Good to know,” you replied, your voice teasingly light as you kissed him, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow around you both.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, a quiet laugh escaping him. “You’re impossible,” he murmured against your lips, his voice full of affection.

You smiled against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. “And you love it,” you whispered back, your words a breathless mix of flirtation and certainty.

Azriel's lips ravaged yours, devouring you with a primal hunger that sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your hips possessively, as if he couldn't get close enough to you and needed to consume every inch of your body. The friction between your bodies ignited a fire that burned through every nerve ending, driving you both to the brink of madness.

You kissed him back with a ferocity that matched the pounding of your heart, not wanting to waste another second without feeling his touch. Your mouths moved in a dance of desperate need, tasting the intoxicating mix of wine and desire on each other's lips. Azriel's calloused hands roamed under your shirt, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched your skin. Your own fingers tangled in his soft curls, pulling him closer as you explored every inch of his face with your touch.

Beneath your fingertips, you could feel the hardened lines of Azriel's jaw. With each passing moment, the intensity between you grew, until it was all-consuming, blurring out the rest of the world. You could feel his heart racing against yours, mirroring your own frantic beat as you devoured each other.

As the sensations threatened to overwhelm you both, you pulled back slightly, panting for breath as you gazed down at him with darkened eyes. Azriel looked back at you with a dazed expression, as if he were drunk on your touch alone. Your chest heaved with exertion as you straddled him, taking control in this passionate exchange.

Reaching up to trace your swollen bottom lip with his thumb, Azriel silently questioned your desires. And in that moment, all you wanted was to rip off his clothes and see what secrets lay hidden beneath his hardened façade. But for now, in this heated embrace, nothing else mattered except for the overwhelming need to consume each other completely.

Your hands traced a path down the hard expanse of his shirt, fingers trembling with desire to rip it from his body and expose him fully to your hungry gaze. Azriel's body reacted to your touch, arching and shuddering as you worked to untie his shirt, your eagerness causing fumbling clumsiness as your focus was solely on reaching your goal. His chuckle only fueled your fervor as his own hands joined yours in freeing him from the confines of fabric. The shirt fell away, revealing the familiar landscape of muscles that you had explored countless times before, but now with an urgency and burning heat that heightened your senses. Your palms pressed firmly against his chest, nails digging into the taut flesh as you trailed kisses down his jawline and throat, feeling the hitch in his breath at each touch. Your fingers hungrily moved lower, tracing every contour of his collarbone until you reached the sweet spot where teeth could sink in and elicit a moan that sent electricity through both of your bodies. Azriel's hands found their way back to your hips, gripping tightly as if anchoring himself to reality amidst the overwhelming pleasure. As you continued to map out every inch of him with kisses, he returned the favor by exploring every inch of exposed skin on your back with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't resist trailing your tongue down his chest, savoring the taste of him while he writhed beneath you, his grip tightening on you with each passing second. Your lips left a trail of fire all over his abdomen, unable to get enough of the exquisite muscles that begged for your attention. And with each delicate kiss, Azriel's moans grew louder and more desperate, driving you both towards a state of pure ecstasy.

As your lips continued their carnal exploration, you could feel the overwhelming desire emanating from his body, begging for release. His muscles were taut with anticipation, barely able to contain the fervent hunger that consumed him. And as you traced your tongue along the sensitive skin just above his waist, Azriel's breath hitched in his throat and his hips lifted.

The way his body trembled beneath yours, aching for release, made your own desires roar to life. But as you traced your tongue along his skin, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and his intoxicating scent. 

With each touch of your tongue against his skin, his body tensed with anticipation. And when he whispered those words - "Wait" - a wave of conflicting emotions rushed through you. You pulled back slightly, gazing up at him with furrowed brows. 

"What?" you asked, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice.

Azriel beckoned for you to come closer, his hands gripping your hips as you shifted onto his lap. Your eyes searched his face, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. "I just want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

Your own hands came up to push the hair behind your ears, your mind struggling to process his words. "What do you mean?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

He shrugged and nervously chewed on his bottom lip. "I don't want you to do this because you think it's what I want," he explained. "You've spent so long not being able to say no that I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes." Azriel's hands gripped your hips tightly as he beckoned you closer. And as you straddled him, feeling the heat of his body against yours, he spoke in a soft tone that only made your heart race faster. "I need to make sure this is what you want," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face with gentle fingers.

Your stomach twisted in knots as you tried to process his words, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You wanted this, craved it even. To feel him so close, to hold him and be held by him. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you had rushed into things and ended up hurt. You couldn't ignore the fear that lingered at the edges of your desire. Was this moving too fast? Were you just trying to prove something to yourself and others? And then there was Kai, who you waited for and lost before you could have this. Were you using Azriel as a substitute? Would he get angry if you said no? The thought of his mate's words echoing through Azriel's lips, enraged and screaming obscenities at you for leading him on made your skin crawl. But then again, he didn't seem like the type to fly off the handle. Hadn't he just been lost in your touch moments ago? Or were you using your body as a bargaining tool, hoping it would keep him interested in being with you? These thoughts swirled around in your head, clouding your judgment as Azriel watched silently, his hazel eyes tracing your face as he smiled lightly. You bit your lip, halting the natural movements of your body and the desire that consumed you. 

Your voice trembles as you whisper, "I don't know." You drop your gaze to your hands, anticipating Azriel's anger as he pulls away from you. But instead, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each fingertip with a tender reverence.

"It's okay to say no," he says, meeting your gaze and placing your hand on his chest. "You can say no now, you can say no later."

You nod lightly, feeling the heat burning in your core as you imagine all the things you want to do with him. He presses his finger to your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. "I only want to go as far as you're comfortable," he reminds you.

The fire inside of you rages harder, begging for release. "I want to try," you finally say, your eyes frantically scanning over his face.

Azriel smiles softly, not giving into his own desires, but instead holding back with gentle control. His hands press into the sides of your face as he leans in to kiss your forehead lightly. "Remember," he whispers against your skin, "one word and everything stops." He kisses your forehead again before continuing, "And I won't be upset, I won't be angry. I'll only leave if that's what you want."

You lean back into him, your hands wrapping around his neck as his dark eyes bore into yours. “I trust you,” you whispered, and with a fiery intensity that can't be ignored any longer, you bring your mouth down on his in a desperate kiss. His passion matches yours as he devours your lips with equal fervor.

As the intensity between you grew, Azriel shed his shirt and revealed the toned muscles of his body. You were lost in the heat of his touch, barely aware of how his shirt had slipped off past his wings. His bare skin pressed against yours, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you both.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and nibbles. Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he explored every inch of your skin with fervent hunger. He was like an animal unleashed with no hesitation in his hands.

As Azriel's hands slid under your shirt once again, teasing and pawing at your flesh, you felt yourself growing more and more lost in him. When he looked up at you for approval before removing your shirt, you eagerly complied. The cold air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to form but Azriel's heated gaze kept you warm.

"You are divine," he murmured hungrily as he took in the sight of your exposed body. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours as he pulled you closer. Each touch ignited sparks between you, like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

In that moment, everything felt right. Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, driven by the beat of your hearts and the intense desire that consumed you both. This was pure ecstasy, being connected with Azriel in every way possible.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his muscular hips, pulling him closer as you tugged at his tousled curls. Azriel's lips left a trail of heat and desire down your neck and over your collarbone, occasionally nipping at your skin with a hint of teeth. Your moans grew louder as he ran his skilled fingers down your spine, eliciting shivers of pleasure. The world seemed to spin in a dizzy blur as Azriel's dark presence enveloped you, and when you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, you found yourself back in your room. Azriel held you in his powerful embrace, his hands gripping your thighs possessively as he continued to explore every inch of your exposed skin with his lips. "You're a show-off, you know that?" you whispered breathlessly, chuckling lightly.

Azriel let out a deep rumbling growl as he stalked towards the bed. "It's faster this way," he admitted with a sly grin.

With one hand gripping your thigh and the other tangling in your hair, he effortlessly lifted you onto the soft sheets and pillows. You could feel his fiery gaze trailing over your exposed body, making you shiver with anticipation. He traced his fingertips down your curves, sending electric tingles through your skin. As he reached your breasts, he leaned in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, causing you to arch into his mouth.

But then he pulled back, his eyes blazing with desire as he gazed at you like a work of art. "You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on," he murmured, his hand teasingly playing with the waistband of your pants. Slowly, almost torturously, he peeled off each layer of fabric that separated him from your bare flesh, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

As his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your stomach, you couldn't help but moan and writhe under his touch. But when his hands came across the scars on your hips, you froze, feeling exposed and self-conscious. Azriel immediately noticed and paused, looking up at you with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Your heart fluttered at the genuine worry in his voice and you nodded, biting your lip. He gently moved your hands away from covering the scars before placing tender kisses on them. Your body trembled at the sensation of his lips on such delicate marks, and he whispered against your skin, "I want to taste and know every inch of you… every story that your skin holds, I want it to tell me everything.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you lifted your hips, allowing him to slowly remove your clothing and expose more and more of your skin. His lips trailed over your most sensitive areas, igniting a spark of desire within you. He continued pulling down your pants, kissing his way down your thighs with gentle caresses and feather-light kisses. He paused at your knee, supporting your leg as he peppered it with soft kisses on the inside. Moving down to your calf, he finally freed you from the confines of your clothes. Surprisingly, he didn't immediately focus on the area that throbbed for his touch, instead taking his time to explore every inch of newly exposed skin with his lips and tongue. He even took the time to place sweet kisses on the tops of your feet before finally returning his attention to the spot that was aching for his touch. His hands roamed up and down your legs, causing you to buck slightly underneath him in anticipation. Your hands found their way above your head, grasping onto the blankets as he continued his tantalizingly slow movements. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure through your body, making you yearn for more.

He leaned back slightly, his firm grip on your knees pulling them apart and exposing you completely to him. You could feel his gaze on you, a primal growl rumbling from deep within him as he tapped his fingers lightly on your skin. Your mouth fell open in anticipation as you looked up at him, his eyes filled with hunger as they devoured every inch of your body. When he noticed the slight shift in your hips, his gaze returned to yours and the hunger faltered slightly as he bit into his lip. He nodded towards you, a silent reminder that you held all the power in this moment. In response, you nodded back, a small moan escaping your lips as he let his hands slide down your body, each scarred finger leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your neck arched and your hips moved forward as he ran one finger lightly down your folds, eliciting a gasping breath from you. He responded with a light laugh filled with pleasure and longing. With expert precision, he trailed his finger up and down your length, pausing just at the peak to apply a little more pressure that made your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Using his thumb, he drew firm yet gentle circles around your most sensitive spot, while his other fingers positioned themselves at your entrance. Your hips bucked in anticipation and a soft hiss escaped from between your teeth as he pressed into you ever so slightly. 

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed murmur. Azriel's eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, you knew it was a request he couldn't deny.

His fingers slowly pushed inside you, eliciting a gasp that escaped your lips. You felt your body clench around him, the familiar urge to become one with him consuming you. He paused, allowing you to adjust to his touch, his eyes locked on the passion in yours.

As your body adjusted, he began to move his fingers, finding a rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. Your hips rocked against him, matching the pace of his fingers as you both moved in harmony. The intensity grew, your moans becoming louder, filling the room with your desire.

It wasn't long before you felt the familiar ache building deep within you. Azriel's eyes locked with yours once more, his touch growing more feverish, almost desperate. 

You grip the sheets tightly, your body writhing uncontrollably beneath his touch. His thumb relentlessly circles your sensitive spot, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke. A loud moan escapes your lips, almost a scream that echoes through the room. But as you let out this primal sound, Azriel presses his body against yours, his chest radiating warmth and desire as he claims your mouth in a fierce kiss. He continues to move his hand between your legs, pushing you further into madness as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy. Your moans blend together as you feel yourself tightening and releasing with every movement, including around him. Azriel's name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, and he responds by whispering your name back, each syllable igniting a new wave of pleasure. You're still gasping for air when Azriel pulls away, his eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

"You okay?" he asks.

You can barely contain your laughter at his question, feeling completely exhilarated and alive as you run your hand down his face. "I'm more than okay," you reply, pulling him back down for another passionate kiss. Azriel chuckles against your lips.

"So much for suffering," he teases.

You wrap your legs around him, craving more of his touch as he removes his hand from between you and brings his glistening fingers to his lips, sucking on them with a look of pure pleasure on his face. Unable to resist, you lick your own lips and watch as his eyes flutter closed in delight.

As his heavy-lidded eyes flutter open, you slowly trail your tongue up and down the length of his fingers, now coated with a mixture of his saliva and your own arousal. Azriel watches intently, moaning softly at the sight of you peering up at him through your thick lashes. You take his index finger fully into your mouth, feeling it slide against the roof of your mouth before pulling it back out teasingly slow.

"F-Fuck..." he breathes, his voice laced with need and desire. His hard length twitches against your stomach, straining against his tight clothing that still remains on his body.

Your hand finds its way between the two of you, gliding delicately along the length of his cock as he grunts in desperation. As you wrap your hand around his clothed member, he starts to thrust his hips forward in an attempt to find some relief. Your lips brush against his ear as you whisper seductively, "Too many clothes."

In an instant, Azriel is pulled back, frantically tugging at the ties of his pants until they fall to the ground, freeing his hardened and eager cock. You're taken aback by the sudden release and without thinking, you whisper to yourself, "Gods, Nesta was right."

Azriel pauses for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Definitely didn't expect you to say that," he pants lightly, his muscular chest rising and falling with every breath.

Realizing what you just said, your eyes widen in embarrassment. "Oh no," you stammer out, trying to explain yourself, "She just mentioned something about wingspan and-" you gesture towards Azriel's throbbing member.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Azriel leans back down towards you, one hand pressed firmly into the mattress beside your head as he gazes into your eyes, his other hand trailing through your hair. "You could have just asked," he teases, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You feel his cock pressing against your stomach, an ache building inside of you. Your hand slides between the two of you and makes contact with him, causing Azriel's eyes to flutter closed as he lets out incoherent moans and murmurs. You bite down on your lip as you stroke him, feeling his length respond eagerly to your touch. His mouth falls open as he exhales breathy gasps, grinding his hips into your hand with the same rhythm as your strokes. The need for him consumes you, wanting to be completely intertwined with this male who feels like home.

Your other hand presses on his shoulder, guiding his hips to align with your dripping entrance. Azriel's eyes lock onto yours as you nod, giving him permission to enter you. Without hesitation, he slowly pushes inside, stretching you deliciously and leaving you moaning in pleasure mixed with slight pain. He watches you intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop or continue. But all you can do is whisper for him to keep going, desperate for the sensation of being filled by him. As he bottoms out inside of you, every inch connected and deeply intertwined, you wrap your legs around his hips.

Azriel leans in close, placing soft kisses on your nose, cheeks, and lips as he begins to move within you. His thrusts are short and slow at first, as if trying to savor every moment. But soon the pace quickens, each movement sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, shifting and moving with each jolt. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he whispers praises in your ear - "Such a good girl," "Just hold onto me." With each thrust, you feel yourself losing control and surrendering completely to the powerful pleasure he gives you. 

The room is filled with the intoxicating sound of skin on skin and the sinfully sweet moans drifting from both of your lips. Azriel's thrusts become more urgent and precise as he brings his hand between your bodies, tracing those tantalizing circles that ignite a fire within you.

You open your eyes to see Azriel gazing down at you, his brow glistening with sweat, curls tousled against his forehead, eyes blazing with pleasure and delight as he continues to elicit moan after moan from you. His hips falter slightly, and a whine of disappointment escapes your lips. But before you can protest, Azriel's hand leaves your heat to prop himself up and the other slides under your shoulders. With effortless strength, he flips the two of you over so that you are sitting in his lap, legs bent on either side of him, still connected intimately. His back presses against the headboard, wings stretched out behind him as he gazes at you with pure adoration.

Both hands cupping the sides of your face, Azriel whispers, "I just want to look at you."

A smile spreads across your face, intoxicated by his touch.

"You're so unbelievably beautiful." He remarks huskily.

Your eyes flutter open as you reply breathlessly, unable to find words while his cock is deep within you, bringing you closer to ecstasy with each thrust.

Azriel's hips move beneath yours as you rise up onto your knees. His hands find their way to your hips, steadying you as he drives into you deeper and harder. His mouth trails kisses and gentle nips along your throat and chest, eliciting shivers from your body as your head falls back in blissful surrender. One hand ventures back to your sensitive core, teasing and coaxing pleasure from it with devilish strokes.

As you feel yourself tightening around him once again, Azriel's rhythm becomes erratic and desperate. His other hand cups your face, his voice low and commanding, "Look at me, Y/N."

Summoning all your strength, you pry your heavy eyelids open and lock gazes with Azriel, lost in the intense desire that radiates from him. A moan unlike any you've heard before escapes his lips as he releases into you, pushing you over the edge into a mind-blowing climax. But even as you quiver and tremble in euphoria, he continues to thrust into you until you release one final time, collapsing against his shoulder with heavy breaths and a feeling of pure satisfaction.

Azriel's gentle breaths rise and fall against your chest as he caresses your hair, pressing soft kisses onto your face. "Hey," he whispers, pulling back to look at you with a loving gaze. You meet his gaze with droopy eyes, still lost in the blissful aftermath of your passionate encounter. "Hi," he whispers back, a sweet smile gracing his features as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

"You doing okay?" He asks, concern and care evident in his voice. You nod in response, unable to form words just yet. "Come here," he murmurs, guiding you to sit next to him. You wrap your arms around his toned body as he envelopes you in his strong embrace, placing another tender kiss on top of your head and trailing comforting fingers up and down your arm.

Azriel lets out a small chuckle and you raise an eyebrow at him. "What's so funny?" You ask.

He looks down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "That was even better than all the times I imagined it."

You roll your eyes playfully, "Well, glad I could exceed expectations."

"You surpassed them by far," he replies as you lean up to capture his lips in another kiss. “Truly, blew them out of the water.” He continues as you smile into your kiss. "Speaking of water," he murmurs against your mouth, "Let's get you some, and maybe a snack," he playfully sniffs your skin, "And definitely a shower."

You lean back slightly, rolling your eyes. “I guess I’m back to suffering you.” You give him a light push which only results in him pulling you into a tighter embrace. 

“If this is suffering, then lock me up and throw away the key.” He whispers into your ear.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll have to show you what true torture with me feels like,” you reply with a laugh, letting yourself fall completely limp into his embrace.

To my readers, I told you I was hot and bothered. My return to my smut ridden, disgustingly overly explained mind is now free. We will be returning to our regularly scheduled programming:

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @caroline-books @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @loglady00 @caninnes @weepingwerewolf @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

[tawaifeddiediaz]

you died, buck

(or, eddie managing buck’s pain while also facing a little bit of his own)

[Image ID: ten gifs of Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1 episodes 5.13 and 6.12. Except for the first gif, all the gifs are in black and white.:

GIF 1: A side shot of Eddie in Frank's office, listening to his therapist say, "You're a man who spends all of his time managing other people's pain. Army medic, firefighter, father. But not a lot of time facing your own." His expression is contemplative, lip pursed.

GIF 2: Eddie opening the door to Buck, smiling when he sees who it is. The caption reads, "happily opens his door to let Buck escape the chaos of neverending guests and questions."

GIF 3: Buck kicking his feet up on Eddie's coffee table, making himself comfortable. The caption reads, "Offers Buck a beer instead of asking him if he's okay because Buck asked him not to."

GIF 4: Eddie walking back into the living room with two beers in hand, stopping short and pursing his lips when he sees Buck fast asleep on the couch. The caption reads, "doesn't wake Buck up from where he's fallen asleep on the couch, letting him rest."

GIF 5: Buck sitting at Eddie's kitchen table while Eddie pours him a glass of water. The caption reads, "Pours him a glass of water, following Buck's cues while appeasing his own need to do something."

GIF 6: Eddie peeling the crusted edge of the bologna off, glancing up at Buck periodically. The caption reads, "Patiently waits Buck out, silently encouraging him to talk if he wants to, but not pushing."

GIF 7: Eddie glancing over at Buck as he recounts his experience during the sniper shooting. The caption reads, "Shares his own traumatic near-death experience to give Buck the direction he's looking for."

GIF 8: Eddie abandoning the sandwich to focus completely on Buck, asking intently if he can ask how Buck's doing now. The caption reads, "Creates a safe, vulnerable space before asking Buck how he's actually doing because he needs to know."

GIF 9: Eddie peering down at Buck as he gives him advice. The caption reads, "Offers personal advice to match the lost look in Buck's eyes, while validating him the whole time, even when it's painful to talk about Buck dying."

GIF 10: Eddie smiling encouragingly, nodding to Buck as he tells him that one day he'll be less surprised that the world's still there. The caption reads, "Gives Buck hope, while still being honest and confident that it will get better."

/end ID]

[edenesth]

How I Met Your Mother

Pairing: husband!Yuta x wife!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: An innocent question from your eight-year-old son takes you and your husband on a trip down memory lane, nearly a decade ago. You both recount the story of how you first met, where Yuta heroically rescued you from an attempted abduction.

A/N: Based on a dream I had of Yuta, I just knew I had to write about it.

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Mama, papa, how exactly did the two of you first meet?"

Your son, Yuki, was going through an old photo album mainly filled with photos of you and your husband before he was born.

Seeing the younger versions of his parents suddenly piqued his curiosity, making him realise that neither you nor Yuta had ever shared the story of how you initially crossed paths.

Yuta beamed, pulling you closer as you both fondly watched your son flip through the carefully curated album, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. It must have been fascinating for him to catch a glimpse of his parents' lives before his existence.

As memories of your first encounter flooded your thoughts, you couldn't help scrunching up your face, earning a chuckle from your husband as he planted an affectionate kiss on the side of your head.

The way you and he first met wasn't exactly a pleasant memory for you, despite Yuta occasionally bringing it up to brag and tease you about being your knight in shining armour.

It was an unforgettable experience, to say the least.

Although it had been borderline traumatic for you, it was the spark that ignited Yuta's protective instincts whenever it came to you.

You rolled your eyes, a small smile gracing your lips, while your husband cleared his throat eagerly, excited to finally share the story of the beginning of your love story with your son.

"Yuki, my boy, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to grow up enough to ask about this."

Your son burst into laughter at his dad's dramatic tone, the exchanged knowing glances between his parents only fueling his curiosity about the story.

"Oh boy, here we go again." You joked but leaned in closer, snuggling into your husband's shoulder, your heart fluttering as he instinctively tightened his hold around you.

"Alright, let's see... It all began one night about ten years ago..."

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you continued to distance yourself from the unfamiliar man who had been suspiciously following you for what felt like hours.

It took a while before you realised what was happening.

Perhaps it was your own fault for choosing to go stock up on groceries all alone at this time of the night. Sure, your neighbourhood wasn't necessarily the safest, but at least there hadn't been any crazy crime stories from around the area as of yet.

Well, it looks like I might be the first one.

Clutching your shopping bags tightly, you opted for yet another detour, determined not to lead this stranger back to your home, where he could potentially abduct you or worse, have his way with you, without anyone ever finding out.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, as you imagined all the horrifying scenarios that might unfold tonight. Panic coursed through your veins and you couldn't afford to waste another minute.

Hastily, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled your housemate's number, praying for a lifeline. The ringing felt like an eternity, but it was met with frustrating silence.

Shit, she's not picking up.

You cursed under your breath, clutching your phone tighter, and decided to try other coworkers you knew living around the area. The calls all ended up going to voicemail or, in the best-case scenario, were met with an endless ring.

It was a weeknight, and everyone must be sound asleep.

Your trembling hands struggled to maintain a steady grip on your phone as you felt the stranger drawing closer from behind. The footsteps echoed ominously in the deserted night.

Desperation took over, and you tried dialling another number, your best friend's, hoping he might miraculously be awake. The harsh reality was that everyone seemed to be lost in deep slumber, oblivious to your perilous situation.

Fear gripped your heart as you finally accepted your fate. The stranger's presence loomed closer, sending a shiver down your spine.

It was almost as if god finally heard your prayers.

As you turned a corner, you stumbled upon a man who appeared to be stepping out of his apartment to throw out the trash. He was now on his way back, his back turned to you as he approached the entrance. Your eyes widened in alarm at the sight of this opportunity, and you knew you had to seize it.

With your heart lurching in your chest, you sprinted towards the man, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sound of footsteps behind you grew louder, and you knew the stranger was chasing you.

You reached the man, your trembling hand gripping his arm, and he snapped to look at you in surprise, "Babe! I called you like a million times, why didn't you answer any of my calls?" You cried out, desperately hoping he'd play along.

Confusion crossed his face.

Much to your chagrin, he began to protest that he didn't know you. But it only took a moment for his gaze to shift from your panicked expression to the strange man skidding to a stop just a few feet behind you.

Seeing the menace in your pursuer's eyes, you whispered shakily, "P-please... please help me. He's been following me for a while now."

The urgency in your voice and the fear in your eyes conveyed the gravity of the situation, and the man's protective instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he nodded and took a step closer to you.

He smiled reassuringly at you, giving your arm a supportive squeeze, "I'm Yuta. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." He whispered into your ear, his words providing a small semblance of comfort. You nodded appreciatively, grateful for his intervention.

Yuta immediately stepped into the role you assigned him, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I must've left my phone on mute again." He said, loud enough for the stranger to hear as he pushed you protectively behind him.

Turning to the stranger, he raised a questioning brow and confronted him with a calm but assertive tone, "How may I help you, sir?" Yuta's stance conveyed his readiness to protect you.

You expected the stranger to take the hint, to leave you alone now that your supposed "boyfriend" was around.

But what happened next was unexpected.

The creep didn't appear to be intimidated; instead, he smirked in disbelief, "Don't kid yourself," He sneered, "I know she's not your girlfriend. Just mind your business, step aside, and no one has to get hurt."

Your heart raced in your chest as you gasped, fear grasping at your every nerve, and you clutched the back of Yuta's shirt.

Your breaths were becoming increasingly erratic as the stranger refused to buy into the charade, and dread was taking hold of your every thought. You feared not only for your own safety but also for poor Yuta's. The grip of your fingers on the back of his shirt was almost painful as you held on desperately.

Feeling your distress, Yuta reached behind him to hold your hand, his touch a source of comfort amidst the chaos. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, silently urging you to stay as calm as possible.

Yuta narrowed his brows dangerously in response to the stranger's claim, "Huh, what an odd thing to say," He retorted with a firm tone, "And how, pray tell, do you know she's not my girlfriend?" Yuta's voice carried a subtle edge of menace, and he was prepared to stand his ground.

The stranger, undeterred, took a step closer.

"I suggest you be careful with your every action because we have surveillance cameras installed all over this neighbourhood." Yuta's words were meant to intimidate, but they also served as a warning.

The creep couldn't help tensing up at the threat.

Unbeknownst to you and your stalker, Yuta wasn't alone in this situation. He knew he needed backup and immediately sent a quick text to Mark, his housemate who was a police officer, asking for help using their secret emergency code. As he did so, he continued to hold his ground, doing his best to stall for time, hoping that help would arrive before things escalated any further.

The tension in the air thickened as Yuta and the stranger exchanged veiled threats, each trying to assert their dominance in the standoff. The atmosphere crackled with danger, and it seemed like things could take a nasty turn at any moment.

But then, relief washed over you as Mark, Yuta's housemate, appeared from the apartment gate with wide eyes. Yuta immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his expression shifting from assertive to reassuring.

"Hey Mark," Yuta greeted him calmly, "This guy's been following my girlfriend around the neighbourhood. You're a cop; think you can do something about that?"

Mark understood the situation instantly.

He stepped forward, pulling out his police badge and addressing the stranger with a stern tone, "Sir, is that true?"

Sensing the gravity of the situation and realising that he was now dealing with a police officer, the stranger knew it was in his best interest to give up the charade. He decided to play dumb, attempting to salvage whatever dignity remained.

"Oh, I apologise," He stammered, feigning innocence, "It's just a misunderstanding. I thought she was someone I knew. Now that we have that cleared up, I'll be taking my leave then."

With that, the stranger briskly retreated, vanishing from the scene before you could fully process what just happened. The relief was palpable as the danger lifted, and you were left with the protection of Yuta and the support of Mark, who had come to your rescue.

The moment the stranger was out of sight, the adrenaline that kept you going suddenly drained from your body, leaving your legs weak and unsteady. You felt like your knees were about to give way, and you would have fallen to the ground if it hadn't been for Yuta holding onto you.

"Are you alright, miss?" Mark asked, his concern evident.

You didn't want to do this, but you couldn't help it. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you broke down in front of your saviours, "Oh my god," You sobbed, your voice trembling, "Th-thank you so much for helping me. Lord knows what he wanted with me."

Yuta held you close, providing a comforting embrace as you tried to collect yourself. Mark stepped in with practical advice, his voice gentle and reassuring, "It's okay," He said, "But I strongly recommend you make a police report about this. It's essential to prevent such incidents from happening to someone else in the future."

You nodded through your tears, thankful for their support.

Relieved by the support and protection Yuta and Mark offered, you agreed to let them walk you home. The companionship and their unwavering presence were comforting as you made your way back.

Along the walk, you introduced yourself and shared the details of what transpired, explaining how the stranger had been tailing you for quite some time before you noticed Yuta when he was throwing out the trash.

Yuta listened attentively, guilt gnawing at him for initially considering turning away from you before realising the danger you were in. He couldn't bear to imagine what might have happened if he had left you to fend for yourself. He vowed silently to always be there for you in times of need.

Mark, on the other hand, made a mental note to keep an eye out for the stranger around the neighbourhood from now on. The incident raised concerns, and he understood the importance of ensuring the safety of everyone in the community.

Upon arriving at your doorstep, Yuta exchanged a silent look with Mark, wordlessly asking his friend for some privacy. Mark nodded knowingly and bid you both farewell before making his way outside, leaving you alone with Yuta.

Looking up at him more closely now, you finally realised how good-looking Yuta was, and before you knew it, your heart began racing for an entirely different reason. He stood before you, nervously biting his lower lip, and you wondered what he wanted to talk to you about.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, his cheeks flushed with a slight blush, and he cleared his throat, his voice trembling, "I-it was really nice to meet you, and, umm... now that you know where I live, you can always come to me for help. Oh— uhh... here's my number, you know, just in case..."

You chuckled at his shyness and nodded, taking the name card he held out. Your fingers brushed against his briefly, sending a spark of electricity through you, "Thank you, Yuta," You replied with a smile, "I really appreciate what you did for me tonight. And, it was nice to meet you too."

The tension that filled the air throughout the night seemed to dissipate, leaving a sense of connection and gratitude between you. You knew that you would remember this night not only for the terrifying ordeal but also for the newfound friend who had come to your rescue.

"And that, son, is how I met your mother."

If you thought your son's curiosity would end there, you were wrong. He proceeded with his next question, "Okay, so what happened next? How did you two fall in love?"

You shook your head in amusement as you noticed the excitement building in your husband, ready to delve deeper into the early stages of your love story, "Are you sure you want to find out, Yuki? Once you hear this, no other love story will ever compare to ours."

A laugh bubbled out of your lips, and you playfully smacked Yuta on the chest, "Oh honey, don't listen to your papa. He's being ridiculous," Your husband gasped dramatically, feigning disbelief as he held your hand against his chest, "How dare you? Are you saying our love story isn't the greatest in the world?"

"It's not the greatest love story in the world," You began, snickering at Yuta's pout, "But it is the greatest love story in my heart." Your husband cooed at your words, showering your face with kisses.

Yuki crossed his arms over his chest like the sassy little eight-year-old he is, "Umm, papa? So, are you telling me the story or not?" Yuta pulled away slightly from you, containing his laughter at his son's exasperated expression.

Your husband's penchant for public displays of affection wasn't new, but Yuki still felt a bit embarrassed whenever he witnessed his parents being lovey-dovey around him, "Okay, okay, sheesh. I know you're dying to hear about it, so here we go..."

The following day after the incident, your housemate, Giselle, nearly had a heart attack when she discovered a slew of missed calls from you. Relieved to see you safely asleep in your bed, she couldn't resist checking in on you. And as you recounted the previous night's ordeal, her emotions fluctuated from shock to sly amusement.

After hearing about Yuta and seeing the name card you received, her eyes practically sparkled with excitement, "Ooh, Nakamoto Yuta, huh? Sounds like your next boyfriend to me." She said with a grin.

You chuckled as you playfully threw a pillow at her face, "I swear, you say that about every new guy I meet."

She laughed and shrugged, "Well, maybe this one will be different."

As you contemplated the events of the previous night and the unexpected connection with Yuta, you couldn't help but wonder if Giselle might be onto something.

Your best friend, Jaehyun, finally returned your call after seeing the missed call from the previous night. You recounted the entire incident to him, much like you had with Giselle. Unlike your housemate, his concern was predominantly focused on your well-being rather than the newfound acquaintance, Yuta.

Jaehyun didn't waste any time.

He decided to accompany you to the police station that afternoon during his lunch break from work.

Your best friend blamed himself for not being there for you when you needed him the most, even though it was completely understandable. He was determined to make sure everything was handled properly and that you received the support you needed.

You hadn't expected to run into Yuta again so soon, but it was that very night when you crossed paths while walking back home from the convenience store with your housemate. Ignoring her teasing smirks, you introduced the two to each other, "Oh hi, Yuta! This is my housemate, Giselle. And Giselle, this is Yuta, the kind soul who saved me last night."

Giselle quickly expressed her gratitude, "Gosh, it's so nice to meet you. I can't thank you enough for coming to her rescue!"

Yuta was humble in his response, "Please, don't mention it! It was simply the right thing to do."

His modesty made you feel like perhaps he really was just being a genuinely decent person, and there was nothing more to his kindness. You knew Giselle had a tendency to get carried away with her imagination, always getting you hyped up with false hope.

You exchanged a tight smile with Yuta as you bid your goodbyes. This time, when he offered to walk you home, you politely declined, feeling a sense of independence and confidence that you could handle the walk with your housemate by your side.

It was about a week later that you felt a wave of relief when the police update came in, the stranger who had been following you that fateful night had been arrested for further questioning. It turned out he made multiple attempts to approach other girls in the neighbourhood as well. You hoped this marked the end of that distressing chapter, thinking you might not have a reason to see Yuta again.

Except you were sorely mistaken.

Nakamoto Yuta started showing up almost everywhere.

You saw him at the convenience store, passed him on your way to work and back home, encountered him at the nearby Chinese restaurant, and even spotted him at the library. The first few times felt like mere coincidences, but you gradually began to suspect that he was intentionally crossing paths with you.

One evening, when you decided to go for a jog at the recreational park, you discovered it wasn't just a coincidence.

There he was, running in your direction, his eyes lighting up with recognition as he approached you. It was then that you realised Yuta's appearances in your life weren't accidental; he was actively seeking out opportunities to be around you.

At the recreational park during your jog, you decided to be brave and address the elephant in the room, "Yuta," You began, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and apprehension, "I've noticed we've been running into each other a lot lately. Is there a reason for that?"

His cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and he looked down shyly before meeting your gaze.

"Well, the truth is," He began, "I've been trying to find ways to talk to you." He paused for a moment, searching for the right words, and then he finally mustered the courage to continue, "I've... I've been attracted to you, and I wanted to get to know you better."

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you tried to process this revelation. Yuta, the kind and handsome Nakamoto Yuta, was interested in you? It felt like a dream come true, and your heart fluttered at the thought. You didn't know what to say, but your smile spoke volumes about your feelings, as you felt your own attraction to him growing with each passing moment.

Yuta's nerves seemed to get the best of him as he mistook your initial silence for rejection. In a quick, slightly frantic ramble, he stumbled over his words, saying, "I mean, it's okay if you don't feel the same way, or if you already have a boyfriend. I completely understand."

But you didn't let him finish his self-doubting monologue. You grabbed his trembling hands with a warm smile, putting his anxieties to rest, "Yuta," You said, "I don't have a boyfriend, and I feel the same way. I'm just as attracted to you."

His eyes widened at your words, and a look of pure surprise washed over his face. Your giggles escaped uncontrollably as you found him utterly adorable when flustered. You felt him tighten his hold on your hand, and he took a step closer to you, closing the gap between you two, a mix of excitement and relief in his eyes.

"Well, if that's the case, will you go out on a date with me?" He seized the perfect opportunity to ask you out, and you didn't hesitate for a moment before agreeing, "I thought you'd never ask." The prospect of spending more time with him filled you with excitement and anticipation.

Later that night, you would meet Yuta for dinner.

Giselle couldn't resist teasing you endlessly as she helped you pick out the perfect outfit, offering fashion advice and supportive comments that made you blush and laugh.

Her closet was a whirlwind of options as she held up dresses, skirts, and tops, "How about this one? It'll look amazing on you!"

You chuckled, sorting through the outfits, "Gigi, it's just dinner. I don't need to overdress."

She winked mischievously, "It's not overdressing if it makes you feel confident!"

Meanwhile, Jaehyun, who came over to check on you, couldn't help expressing his concern, "You know, I trust your judgment, but please be careful, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you."

You sighed, understanding his protective nature, "Jae, I promise, Yuta is a great guy. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Besides, are you forgetting the fact that he was the one who saved me that night?"

The reassuring words didn't fully alleviate his worry, but he nodded, accepting your choice, "How can I possibly forget when you keep mentioning it every five minutes? Just promise me to keep your phone on, and let me know if you need anything."

With your housemate's guidance and your best friend's cautionary reminders, you headed out for your date with Yuta, heart fluttering with excitement.

The date with him turned out to be more than perfect. Yuta's caring and attentive gestures made your heart melt throughout the night.

As you dined at a cosy restaurant, he pulled your chair out for you, ensuring you were comfortable. He listened intently as you spoke, asking questions and showing genuine interest in your thoughts and feelings. When you shivered slightly, he casually draped his jacket over your shoulders, ensuring you stayed warm.

After dinner, you took a leisurely stroll through the city park. Yuta held your hand as you walked, fingers interlaced. He pointed out constellations in the night sky and shared anecdotes about his life. His warmth and presence made the conversation flow effortlessly, and it felt as if you had known each other for much longer.

The date ended with him walking you to your doorstep. Before saying goodnight, he leaned in to press a gentle, respectful kiss on your cheek. It was a sweet, soft gesture that left you with a smile on your face as you entered your home.

His kindness, consideration, and charming nature truly made it an unforgettable evening, setting the tone for many more wonderful moments together.

The weeks and months passed in a whirlwind of dates and shared experiences. You got to know each other so well that it became clear you were both ready for a deeper commitment. Yuta had always been serious about the relationship, making it known that he was not interested in anything casual. He reassured you time and time again that he would never do anything to hurt you.

He's been waiting for the perfect moment to finally ask you to officially be his girlfriend.

The moment Yuta had been waiting for eventually arrived, and it was like a scene from a K-drama; unexpected and dramatic. You were walking side by side down the bustling streets of Hongdae one night after watching a movie together.

The city's neon lights created a surreal backdrop. The vibrant energy of Seoul's nightlife buzzed around you, and you were enjoying the company of the person you've grown to care deeply for.

Suddenly, amidst the excitement, someone's touch became too intimate. Panic washed over you as you felt a stranger's hand on your waist, and it moved lower, sending a jolt of alarm through your body. Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what was happening in this crowded, chaotic scene.

Yuta was quick to pick up on your distress.

His gaze followed your wide-eyed stare, and his expression morphed from curiosity to fierce determination when he saw the inappropriate situation unfolding.

With a surge of protective rage, he moved swiftly, his hand reaching for yours as he pulled you away from the unwelcome intruder. In search of comfort, you pressed closer to him. His face was a mask of fury as he confronted the person who dared to harm you, "Excuse me, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

The stranger's face paled as he realised the gravity of his actions, "I... I didn't mean to..."

Yuta's voice was firm, cutting through the chaos of the street, "It doesn't matter what you meant. You crossed a line you shouldn't have, and that's not acceptable."

The crowd that gathered began to murmur, and the stranger, feeling the weight of the public gaze, backed away, muttering apologies and excuses.

Yuta, standing his ground, continued, "Remember this lesson, and never let it happen again. We all deserve to be treated with respect."

As the stranger retreated into the crowd, Yuta's focus returned to you, making sure you were okay. The fierce protector had shown his dedication to your safety in no uncertain terms.

In that tense and unexpected moment, his eyes met yours, and he seized the opportunity to ask the question that had been lingering between you for so long.

"This is it," He began, "I can't go on like this any longer. Will you let me be the one to always protect you from now on?" He paused, his gaze locked onto yours, a mix of hope and anticipation in his eyes, "Will you... be my girlfriend?"

The crowd around you erupted into cheers and applause, chanting for you to say yes to Yuta. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help smiling at their exuberance.

With a shy yet delighted grin, you nodded, "Of course, I'll be your girlfriend, silly. I've waited too long for you to ask."

His face lit up, his joy evident, and he wasted no time in pulling you into a warm and loving embrace. The crowd's cheers only grew louder as they congratulated the two of you, celebrating the official beginning of your journey together as a couple.

As he walked you home later that night, the atmosphere was charged with emotion. With a mix of excitement and anticipation, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips for the first time. The world around you seemed to fade away as your lips met, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in perfect harmony.

Before the kiss could deepen and become more passionate, the romantic moment was abruptly interrupted by your housemate, who swung your front door open and shouted, "Finally!"

Her sudden entrance startled both of you, and you laughed as you pulled away from the kiss.

Giselle's enthusiastic interruption added a dose of humour to the scene, and Yuta joined in the laughter, your hearts brimming with happiness and the promise of a wonderful future together.

Your son's face was the epitome of adorable scepticism as he tilted his head, looking at his father's dramatic storytelling, "Papa, are you sure that isn't a scene from a drama?" Yuta scoffed playfully, "Of course not! I'm telling you the truth!"

Yuki, with his round eyes, turned to you, seeking confirmation, "Is it really true that's how you and papa fell in love, mama?"

You softened and leaned down to kiss his head, reassuring him, "It's true, honey."

To your surprise, your son's expression turned more serious, "That would mean it's true you've almost gotten hurt twice if papa hadn't been there to save you."

You nodded, touched by your son's concern, and Yuki continued, "Don't worry, mama. I'm here now; I'll protect you too."

Your heart melted at his words, and Yuta cooed with pride, coming over to shower your son's face with playful kisses. Yuki shrieked in ticklish delight, and you stared at the two of them with a fond smile.

You may have nearly gotten hurt in order to meet Yuta, but you wouldn't change your fate for anything in the world. You were incredibly happy with your little family, and your heart was full of love and gratitude for the way things have turned out.

In the midst of this warm family moment, Yuki's curious nature was in full swing. With an innocent yet cheeky smile, he suddenly asked, "So, how did you two have me then?"

Your face turned a shade of red that rivalled a tomato, and you cleared your throat nervously. Beside you, Yuta stammered, his words coming out in a rush, "Whoa, whoa, that's enough questions for today, young man!"

Yuki's eyes sparkled with amusement as he sensed he hit a nerve. Despite the initial flustered reactions, you burst out laughing, unable to contain your mirth.

It seemed like the story of your love, your family, and your son's inquisitiveness would continue to be a delightful adventure.

I've only been writing for ATEEZ so far since they're my current ult, but NCT and I go way back HAHA. I've been the biggest simp for Yuta, y'all don't wanna know about it, I swear.

Anyway, this is me trying out writing for other groups. I have another story featuring I.N from Stray Kids coming up soon as well. My fellow STAYs can look forward to that one.

As always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts, reviews, and feedback, so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! <3

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[doumadono]

Hiii! How are you?? I don't know if this an emergency but... Can you do any bnha character (I have preference in Kaminari and Sero, but can be anyone you choice) where reader had an s3xu4l 4ss4ult after one party with they males best friends? Who I thought was my best friends end up 4bus1ng me when I was drunk and high, I barely remember what happened after the 4bus3 started.

You can ignore if you don't feel comfortable doing it, thank you for your time 💕

A/N: hiya, Nonnie, I'm doing pretty fine lately. I hope that as of now, you're doing a little better, my dear. I'm truly sorry to hear that you went through such a traumatic experience. It's important to acknowledge that you are not alone, and there are people who care about your well-being. If you're comfortable, consider reaching out to someone you trust, be it a friend, family member, or a mental health professional. Your feelings are valid, and taking steps towards healing is a brave and empowering choice

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Kaminari notices that something is off with you, and his usual, cheerful demeanor turns serious. "Hey, you seem a bit off. Everything okay?"

You, hesitant at first, finally admit, "I… I don't know, Denki. Something happened after one party we attended, and I don't know how to deal with it…"

He approaches you with genuine concern, asking if everything is okay, not pressuring you to share but making it clear he's there for you. "You can tell me anything, okay?"

Eventually, you open up to Kaminari about the sexual assault you experienced, and he listens attentively without judgment. Tearfully, you recount the incident, and Kaminari's expression shifts from shock to empathy. "Oh God, sparks, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Kaminari is incredibly supportive, offering a comforting hand on your shoulder or a gentle hug, letting you know he's there whenever you need him.

He encourages you to take your time to heal, assuring you that there's no rush, and your well-being is the top priority. "Take your time. I'm here to listen and help, and we'll figure this out together."

Kaminari makes it clear that you're welcome to share as much or as little as you're comfortable with. "Your feelings are valid, and I'm here to support you through all of it," he says, acknowledging the emotional weight of your words.

He suggests spending time together doing activities that you enjoy, helping to create a sense of normalcy and safety.

Kaminari gently suggests seeking professional help, understanding that it's a sensitive topic but emphasizing the importance of your mental health. "I've heard that talking to a professional can really help. I'll be here for you every step of the way."

He offers to accompany you to appointments or assist in finding resources if you decide to pursue anything. "We can look into options together if you want. Your well-being is what matters most," he adds, reassuringly.

While Kaminari remains a supportive presence, he doesn't shy away from expressing his anger at the situation, making it clear that what happened was not okay. "What happened was not okay. Not fucking okay! You deserve to feel safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you do, sparks."

Kaminari consistently checks in on you, not as an obligation but because he genuinely cares. He wants to ensure you feel supported throughout your healing process.

Understanding that trust might be a delicate issue, Kaminari reassures you that he's committed to earning and maintaining your trust at your own pace.

Bonus!

When Kaminari is not with you, the weight of your pain becomes almost unbearable for him. Alone in his room, Kaminari often finds himself succumbing to waves of grief, alternating between tears and bursts of anger. The helplessness of not being able to protect you eats at him, and he struggles to contain his overwhelming emotions.

To Kaminari, you are more than a significant other; you're his source of brightness, his spark. The thought of someone dimming that light, causing you pain, strikes him to the core.

The emotional turmoil reaches a boiling point, leading to moments where Kaminari angrily punches his pillow or the wall. The frustration at being unable to turn back time and protect you fuels these outbursts.

Kaminari, unable to contain his emotions any longer, reaches a breaking point. The anger and frustration of not being able to protect you gnaw at him, pushing him to seek solace in someone he knows understands intensity — Katsuki Bakugo.

Kaminari, with a heavy heart, briefly shares the situation with Bakugo, the details too painful to express fully. "I can't take it anymore, man. I need to do something about it. I need your help. They hurt her, man. I wasn't there, and I can't let it slide. It's eating me alive."

Bakugo, though gruff, recognizes the gravity of the situation and doesn't dismiss Kaminari's emotions. "We need Kirishima and Sero. Get 'em here."

Bakugo's explosive anger surfaces, as the four sit together, thinking of a plan. "Anyone who thinks they can get away with hurting our friends is dead fucking wrong. We're gonna show 'em to not mess with us, for fuck's sake."

[takami-takami]

Tw: about any trauma but if you must have a specific tw, dm me or just be careful. highly encourage you to avoid reading this if you need. keigo comforts you through past paternal trauma. regression/dissociation.

"He's not your father, sweetheart."

"What?"

Keigo's smile is one that is saturated with water.

His eyes remain fixed down at the palms placed in his. A single thumb rolls along the knuckles that protrude from the back of your hand, diving between each hill and valley as it travels in a comforting lull.

Up, down. Up and down.

His warmth waxes and wanes like waves, soothing your nerves as if it were laps against the crystaline shores of someone else's happy place. The intimacy is familiar, a memory of the muscle settled several years in.

Keigo's gaze finally meets yours, crumbling utterly at your feet; but he hides it well. He remains kneeling, level with you as you sit on the edge of your mattress.

"I said, he's not your father. Dads don't do that to their little ones," he explains, as if he were speaking to one of the children that cling to him from the rubble. The ones he "saves" on the missions that find their resting place in his nightmares.

"You don't have to put up with it. I can help you get away."

Your averted gaze causes him to panic, doubling his reassurance.

"Let me keep you safe. Under my wings," he flares them for emphasis, spreading the glorious plumage in front of you both. The action is slow, on eggshells. It's deliberate, a desperate attempt, the perpetual ace up his sleeve— this is an interview after all, one he pleads to whatever power is out there that he passes. He has an inkling that everyone else you've ever interviewed has failed you.

"I swear on my life, I can protect you. I promise. Let me help you?"

The subtext is clear: this is what he's good for. This is what he knows. This is what his feathers pull him to do, what he's trained for all his life.

You choose to ignore his words. That's alright, he nods. Keigo learned in his hero training that dissociation is a common defense mechanism when recounting traumatic events.

"It's easier when it's a thing that happens in my head," you say, flicking your fingertips along the ridges of his worn nails, playing with his silver rings and the skin on his hands. Your other hand taps a finger against your skull for emphasis.

It's a child's voice you speak in. Keigo nods along like it isn't.

"But when other people say it happened in the living room, I get real upset," you explain. "I'd rather it just stay a dream."

Your words are all you have, so you offer them as explanation. Keigo is perceptive. Keigo will decipher them. Keigo knows your code.

Keigo is smart, Keigo is big, Keigo is strong.

"Have you ever noticed," you ask. "That when you wake from the most horrid dream, the fear only lingers for a moment? Your mind adjusts so quickly to waking life— but if the beasts in your dreams were in the living room instead of the clouds, you'd be recounting that experience from a chair across a shrink's desk for the rest of your life."

Keigo's knees creak when he wordlessly rises, sitting beside you. You accept his silent invitation, crawling your way into his arms, hiding in his chest as if it were some kind of shielding rubble.

He doesn't smell like dust, though. He smells like trees, like a well-grown oak.

"Nobody believes me."

"I do. Dove, I do." His hand smoothes against your forehead, rocking gently to soothe you.

"It was scary. It's scary. It's not a memory that stays in the past. It's still happening now. It's sticky."

"I know it is. You're a brave little bird," he coos. "Bravest little bird I've ever seen."

"I don't care that I'm brave. Everyone asks if I'm safe now, but it already killed me. That's all I care about."

A question strikes him as he pulls away to peer into your eyes, thumbs smooshing your cheeks: how can you not see how much light you have left?

It's okay. He'll sit with you until you see it.

And sit, and sit, and sit.

There will come a day when you, too, sprout like trees. The seeds are already in you, and there are hours and hours waiting to be lived once you wake up.

[akazzzaa]

Rengoku Kyojuro with reader who once in a conversation, recalls to some familial trauma (think of the worst thing a person can experience from a family member) they had like its no problem and laughs to themself. reader, like, douma, cant figure out how to process such traumatic things, but unlike him, they have emotions and is able to grieve if they try

A/N- Thank you for your ask!

Summary- Kyojuro with reader who struggles with their traumatic past

Genre- Angst// Fluff

Warnings-Mentions of death, blood// Trauma

It started when you both where doing a mission together, the child in the situation has had everyone in their family murdered by a demon in the most horrific way you can imagine. It reminded you of your childhood and you both talked about it.

Kyojuro was confused. How can you smile and laugh? That child is going to suffer so much even if he was saved. And you went through something familiar? Are you okay? You both talked awhile. Fort once, he was quiet. He was trying to figure out your thought process

In Kyojuro's head, he believes your resilience in casually recounting such deep familial trauma is a testament to your inner strength.

He admires your ability to face adversity with a brave front, convinced that your laughter is a coping mechanism rather than a dismissal of the pain. However, he also senses a depth of emotional turmoil beneath the surface that you might not be fully acknowledging.

Rengoku finds himself silently observing your moments of quiet contemplation.

He longs to offer support but struggles to comprehend the complexity of your emotions, realizing that your laughter might be a shield masking the depths of your grief.

Meanwhile, you grapple with the internal conflict of trying to process the trauma that surfaces in unexpected moments. You feel the weight of your emotions, and the laughter that once seemed like a defence mechanism becomes a reminder of the pain you're trying to suppress. As you navigate this emotional rollercoaster, you appreciate Rengoku's unwavering support and stability, even if he can't fathom your emotional landscape.

In the midst of battling demons and protecting humanity. He learns to read the subtleties of your moods, offering a comforting presence during the moments when laughter fades into introspective silence. And while you may struggle to articulate the depths of your grief, you find solace in knowing that, with Rengoku by your side, you don't have to face the shadows alone.

[auncyen]

Same anon with the mira and bonnie ask, lobed your response but felt weird to just put it in w/o a question so if you don’t mind:

what do you think siffrin’s life was like before joining the party? Could be pre- or post- forgotten island. Idk to me its fascinating bc they were loved in some measure (cloak, jokingly running away bc of veggies) and are p in touch with their culture when they remember it, but at the same time siffrin’s mindset is pretty unhealthy. Like even before looping/during act 2 loops, they seemed unconcerned about serious bodily harm and death that would happen to them + just seems to have. A very strange relationship with people feeling sad instead of happy around them? Idk i just don’t think that’s from just the memory loss.

See I think kid Siffrin was pretty happy. As Isabeau notes whoever gave them the cloak and hat must have really loved them. When Siffrin recounts running away it's in a carefree way--he knew he could give his parents a scare and it'd go down as "just a prank". Basically their home life was really good. There are questions I have about the island's beliefs / values that might be troublesome, but I don't really think that sort of thing grates on a kid with a happy home life too much. (And also as a little note the only glimpse we get into the island's beliefs/values are through Siffrin and King, two individuals who cannot recall those things completely and are very traumatized, so like. Should probably take a grain of salt on how they portray the beliefs anyway.)

Post-island I admittedly read a LOT into how Siffrin finds Vaugarde's openness weird and had kept their hair dyed up until a few months pre-game.

In his experience, other countries are not as welcoming. So I imagine their teenage years were probably pretty lonely. This isn't to say other countries were completely awful--he obviously enjoyed Poteria's plays!--but they were juuust old enough where few would assume just by looking at them "uh, you're on your own, do you need help?" If they stayed long enough in a spot for people to figure out something was wrong it'd invite questions like "where are you from", "where are your parents", basically questions that'd make Siffrin's head hurt and probably lead to them cutting off the interaction if the other person doesn't walk away first because they're put off or alarmed by Siffrin's reactions. Basically, there probably WERE well-meaning attempts to help Siffrin. They backfired because people didn't know what was wrong with Siffrin (Siffrin didn't know what was wrong with Siffrin). Siffrin probably beat himself up for it when he knew the other person was trying to help and he was just too "broken". As a teenager he probably stayed longest in places where adults assumed he was a runaway that didn't want to talk about it and maybe helped him out in a more "hands-off" way--"hey, run this errand for me and I'll give you dinner and a roof for the night". Which, great! Because Siffrin finds a way to get by. But it doesn't deal with any of the emotional issues festering inside.

I also feel like, while this may be a bit dark for the fantasy setting, Siffrin probably got targeted at times for being a young traveler on their own. I mean I also headcanon that Siffrin was very good at escaping dicey situations, partially because they'd start Wish Crafting unconsciously if they were really scared, so they were never seriously harmed. But they weren't good experiences to have!

I also kind of headcanon that pre-canon with not knowing who they are like--they loved plays. But also, like. I can see them at times hurting when they think about plays, how they'd be portrayed in a play. No true name, no past, no home, no relations. At best they're the jester who mocks a King gone wrong and makes the audience laugh. At worst they're a side character killed off-stage in a tragedy, barely important enough to devote two lines to. What kind of play would have a protagonist with zero emotional stake in anything?

They try to be the jester, at least. Sometimes, when he's feeling brave enough. It tends to fizzle pretty quickly. (And then he meets someone who doubles over laughing at a bad pun.)

So yeah I feel like Siffrin pretty much mastered the art of getting by and also as in this post actually being pretty good at fighting pre-canon, but socially well. They can ask directions in at least half a dozen languages but can't be honest about how they're feeling or what's going on with them in a single blinding one. Then they meet a group that's in desperate need of another fighter and 2 of them are Vaugardians who are willing to accept Siffrin's eccentricities as just part of them and not ask questions and Odile's pragmatic enough to not rock the boat unnecessarily. I pretty much do view the group as being the first chance Siffrin remembers getting to bond with people without it going south by them wanting to know their background. Of course he loves them. Of course it doesn't really matter what happens to him, who's going to miss him?? They have homes and families and friends. They're the real heroes. He's just supporting cast.

...So yeah tl;dr pre-island vanishing I think Siffrin's life was just fine. post-island was an incredible amount of loneliness and the Universe putting his brain in a blender and idly hitting the pulse button every so often. This is not even getting into experiencing the physical side of puberty while not knowing who you are or who to ask for help, which, yikes.

[menacing-menace-rat]

Heya! Just saw your post so I hope you don't mind my fluff related somewhat crossover of Batman and Moon Knight:

In this random AU, Bruce Wayne witnessing the death of his parents was such a traumatic moment that it would spiral to give him DID (his extra personalities being Steven Grant and Jake Lockley from Moon Knight).

Now in present time, each character of the batfamily (of your choice) while doing something together (maybe training perhaps) can't help but each remember fondly about the first time meeting Bruce and eventually finding out and meeting his other personalities as well and how much it was quite a surprise. They even each tell their most fondest memories with Bruce, Steven or Jake, by the end, they don't realize that Bruce Wayne has came back, smiling with Steven Grant and Jake Lockley also feeling happy.

Hope that's okay, thanks and have a great day

Hey! Okay I think I understand the request but in case I don't, feel free to ask again. I have never done cross over stuff before but I love both batman and moonknight so I'm excited to try. They really feel like they fit together so well. I can totally imagine the wild interactions between these men. Anyway without further or do here you go! 😄

        The kids were used to Bruce's changes. Most of them thought of Steven as a second dad. Jake only came out when needed but having a family seemed to mello him out almost like he felt safe with them.

        It had been a rough night for everyone. Gotham just seemed to be falling deeper into the hands of crime lords and maniacs. Dick, Jason, and Tim made their way to the kitchen for a snack before bed. 

        “Any of you catch Jake and Bruce arguing again?” Tim asked as Dick grabbed them all some cereal. 

        “Nah I got real good at tuning out their bickering. Don't take them so seriously. They will work it out.” Jason says as he shoves a whole huge spoonful cereal into his mouth. 

         “Do you guys remember a few Christmases ago when Steven and Alfred worked all morning to set up the living room for a Christmas card photo and Damien puked all over the rug?” Dick said as he finally made himself a bowl. He smiled as he remembered the look on everyone's face. There they all were dressed in their finest and poor Damien just couldn't keep it down. 

          “All I remember was the smell. I told him not to eat the ancient candy canes in the decoration box.” Tim said with a chuckle. “I thought you were going to bring up when Jake bought that bike and tried to park it in the greenhouse. I thought Bruce was going to throw that thing in the pool for a second.” Tim added. 

         “Oh my God I forgot about that!” Jason interjected as he choked down another large spoonful. “That bike was great. I think that was the first bike I ever rode. Jake can be a pain but he taught me everything I know about bikes. I hope Bruce wasn't jumping down his throat too much tonight. The guy really has a knack for taking the fun out of vigilante work.” 

         Everyone knew Jason and Jake were close. When Jason first came back from the dead Jake was the only person he'd let near him. They just understood each other. Jake was the father Jason thought he needed. 

         “Jake's alright but Steven will let me talk his ear off all day if Bruce isn't busy. I even got him into RPGs and he helped me rebuild my computer.” Tim commented finishing his bowl of cereal first.

       The boys continued talking about their shared experiences with Bruce, Steven, and Jake. It's an unconventional set up for a family but they all manage to make it work together.

       At some point Bruce realized they hadn't gotten around for bed yet so he looked in the one place he knew he'd find three teen boys, the kitchen. Sure enough they were there all sat on stools, cereal long finished. They were boisterously recounting their favorite moments with their surrogate fathers. If Steven had been in control a tear might have come to Bruce's eye.

       The sun started to rise and eventually they all went to bed. Bruce couldn't help but sleep a little sounder knowing Steven and Jake were loved by his adopted sons. He couldn't ask for a better family.

        It got a little sappy near the end but I hope you enjoyed. It was a really fun AU to write. The idea is super creative and sweet. I hope I did it justice. 💕

[underoospeterparker]

hie !! hurt/comfort request <3 w peter sutherland where reader is like a doctor or a nurse and she comes home super sad and like not able to talk because of something traumatic that happened? but eventually she opens up and he just comforts her <3 gah i love him!! and i love u sm ur writing is so beautiful <33

thank you !! hope this okay lovely ₊˚⊹♡ (718 words)

warnings; death, low self esteem, reader has a traumatic experience and feels she is responsible for the death of a patient

the lobby to your and peter's apartment was freezing, colder than it had ever been before. it was evident that you'd been crying, and you tried your best to cover it up before you fished out your keys from your purse.

"time of death, 9:37pm," you had said to the other surgeons in the room, voice trembling. someone started to cover up the body, which you couldn't look at anymore.

you didn't realise you were staring at the floor, unmoving, until you were ushered out of the room. you heard someone talking, but you were too disturbed to listen, until you thought about a question. "who's going to tell them?" you murmured to the person gripping your arm.

"what?" you looked up to mia staring down at you, confusion and concern evident in her eyes. she knew this was the first time you'd experienced a patient dying on your watch, and it was bound to have an impact on you.

"who's going to tell the family, mia?" you asked, louder this time.

she looked shocked that you'd asked that question, even though it was a valid one. "don't worry about that," she said. "why don't you just go home, try to get a good night's sleep. your shift's already over."

"but-"

"no buts," she interrupted. "please."

grabbing your coat, you started heading towards the doors of the hospital, until you heard the crying. you tried to not look back but you couldn't help it. his wife was sobbing, holding onto her son who was trying to calm her but was crying himself.

you couldn't look any longer. tears filled your eyes as you left the hospital, eventually running down your cheeks as you climbed into your car. for god's sake, the guy was a husband, a father. they didn't deserve that. he didn't deserve that. why couldn't you just save him?

blinking out of the memories of tonight, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, trying your best to not start crying again.

"sweetheart?" you heard peter's voice call out from the living room. dropping your bag to the floor, you made your way over to him, vision already blurring. forcing a smile onto your face, you sat down next to him, staring at your sock-clad feet on the fluffy carpet.

you didn't meet his eyes as he quietly asked, "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you responded, still not looking at him. "jus' tired. had a long day." pausing, you added, "i'm gonna head to bed."

your boyfriend was too perceptive, and so he knew that you were lying. he followed you into the bedroom after giving you a few minutes to yourself.

you were curled up in the corner of the room, pajamas already on. you were trying so hard to stop the sobs that were pouring out from your body.

peter knelt in front of you, coaxing you out of your shell with soft, gentle hands. "oh, princess," he murmured.

"i'm sorry," you hiccuped, tears falling. you fell into his outstretched arms, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other softly rubbing your back.

"no, please," he said. "don't apologise. you've done nothing wrong."

at his words you pressed your face into his sweater, wet tears soaking it, but he couldn't care less. he only cared about you, about comforting you.

pulling yourself away, you lifted your hand to wipe away the remaining tears, but your boyfriend did that for you. his hands stayed on your face as you tried your best to recount what happened.

"i couldn't save him, pete," you sobbed. "a-and that's the hardest thing about this job. i can't always save everyone."

his heart broke at the pain you were going through. he had hoped that nobody would ever have to experience what it felt like to have that burden. "you did all you could," he said softly, voice filled with emotion. "that's all that matters, sweetheart. it's not your fault."

he gave you a kiss to the top of your head, helping you to stand up and leading you into the bed. "it's not my fault," you murmured, mainly to yourself.

he nodded, immensely proud of you. "it's going to take time," he responded, pulling you back into the warmth of his chest. "but you'll get there. i promise."

[runawrites-blog]

Tears (Boba Fett x Reader)

Summary: Boba doesn't understand why hearing about his past made you cry. (Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 1,024 Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Mild Discussions of Past Traumatic Events, No Y/N, Petnames (Cyar'ika) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36128002

---

“Why are you crying?”

You looked up at Boba, finding him looking at you in confusion and worry. The two of you sat opposite each other, the lights dimmed and the wind howling outside. Boba looked at you with such surprise that it almost made you cry again. But this wasn’t about you – this was about him. Quickly, you reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes, shaking your head to focus on him.

“Cyar’ika, why are you crying?”

Once again you shook your head, wiping furiously against the onslaught of tears, guilt flooding you. Boba had been telling you about his past and you didn’t want him to worry about you – it should be you taking care of him. But to hear about what pain he had been through made it almost impossible for you to keep your tears at bay. The man you loved had been through such horrible experiences, had been abandoned, left for dead and robbed of his father at a terribly young age.

And it brought you to tears to hear it from him; to hear him recount these happenings while trying to keep his voice steady, trying to keep the pain from showing. You’d known Boba long enough to know his body language, his physical cues and you could tell that this was hard for him, even though he tried his best not to let it show.

You didn’t give Boba the time to ask again because you were on your knees in an instant, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. Slowly, you slid into his lap, allowing his head to rest against your chest as you wrapped your legs around him. Although you felt him tense in your arms you didn’t let up and eventually, he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your chest, allowing you to hold him.

“I’m so sorry these things happened to you.” You whispered after a few minutes of silence, tears still running down your cheeks and falling from your chin. “You didn’t deserve any of that. You deserved to be cared for and to be safe.”

“Why are you crying?”

You pulled back in confusion, looking down at Boba and wrecking your brain on why he was still asking that question. “Because you told me about the horrible things that happened to you.”

“But why would you cry about that?” He frowned up at you, clearly not understanding your train of thought. “It’s not a happy story, I know, but I did not expect it to make you cry like this.”

“You say that as if it’s a sad book you’ve read to me or a holodrama we’ve watched.” Your hands came up to grab his cheeks, thumbs gently stroking them. “You say that as if it’s not your life and your traumatic past.”

“Cyar’ika, I don’t--”

“I’m crying because I love you, Boba. I love you so much and you were hurt and used and abandoned. Terrible things happened to you which makes me sad because I love you and I don’t want you to feel like that – I hurt for you.”

Understanding dawned on his face as he looked up at you. “You hurt for me?”

“I hurt for you.” You said softly, thumb still stroking his cheek. “I hurt for you because I love you dearly and I want you to feel nothing but happiness.”

“I’m happy when I’m with you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you had anything but a happy past.” You whispered, leaning your forehead against his. “You didn’t deserve all that. You deserved love and care, not violence and abandonment.”

Boba swallowed thickly, hands coming up to rest on your hips and hold you in place. “You do not need to worry about me. My younger years were horrible but that isn’t my life. I am in control now and I am not a victim.”

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, stroking his cheeks all the while. Just as you closed your eyes you could see his fluttering shut as he leaned upward. Gently, you began to trace his face with one of your fingers before separating from the kiss.

“I know that you are not a victim. And I am so thankful for that; for the fact that you took control and fought back. I am so thankful for how strong you were.” You said in earnest before pressing your forehead back to his. “But if you ever want to talk about your past, I am willing to listen. I won’t force you to tell me and I won’t force you to heal. You might need some time to dig yourself through your past and if you never find the courage to tell me about how it affected you, I accept that.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to help you because I love you. I won’t force you but if you ever want to talk, I will listen. And I will do whatever you need me to do – I will talk to you or I will be quiet, I will hold you or I will give you space.”

“Thank you, Cyar’ika, I appreciate the offer.” He said in earnest, eyes meeting yours. “But this should suffice. My life is better now – believe me.”

“I do. Yet, if you ever need to talk, you can always come to me.”

“I will keep that in mind.” With that, Boba leaned up to kiss you once more. “Thank you, Cyar’ika.”

“There is no need to thank me. I love you and I want you to be happy. And if there is anything I can do to help, I will gladly do that.”

Boba just nodded at that but he didn’t speak anymore. He just rested his head back against your chest, still holding you in his lap. When you began to reach up to cradle his head he turned it, grabbing your free hand and pressing a kiss to it. He didn’t speak after that but you knew what he meant. But his message was clear.

Thank you.

[dropout-if]

❛ Who did this to you? ❜

For J 👀🛐

From this ask game!

The night air is colder than you anticipated—harsh, like the reality of the situation and the way it sends a shiver down your spine. Clutching your phone tightly, you dial the one number you know will provide some semblance of comfort in this moment—you know you need it. You can hardly hear your own heartbeat over the rush of blood in your ears as the call connects, and with every ring, your hope of finding solace grows stronger.

“Hey,” J’s voice breaks through the static, and it’s like a lifeline tethering you to something steady amidst the chaos.

“J,” you say, your voice shaking, “I— I need you.”

Their tone changes in an instant, voice sharp with concern, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Tears threaten to blur your vision as you recount the events of the evening, how you were walking home when a group of strangers cornered you, demanding your belongings. You managed to escape with only minor injuries, but the sense of violation and fear lingers like a haunting shadow.

J’s silence on the other end of the line feels heavy, and you can almost hear their mind racing, processing the information and formulating a response.

“Are you safe now?” they ask, their voice gentle.

“I’m at my apartment,” you reply, your voice quivering, “But I just... I don’t know what to do.”

Without hesitation, J responds, “Stay where you are. I’m coming over.”

You feel a small glimmer of relief at their words, the knowledge that J is on their way providing a sense of security that you so desperately need.

The sound of a door slamming shut and footsteps approaching draws your attention, and a wave of comfort washes over you as you see J entering your apartment. They immediately close the distance between you, their arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” they murmur, their voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves “Did you call the cops?”

You shake your head no as you find yourself leaning into their embrace, their presence grounding you amidst the storm of emotions swirling within you. After a few moments, J pulls back slightly, their eyes searching yours. They scan your entire body for bruises and cuts.

“Who did this to you?” they ask, their voice low and controlled, a fierce protectiveness evident in their tone.

You swallow hard, the memory of the encounter still fresh in your mind.

“I didn’t get a good look at them— it all happened so fast.”

J’s gaze softens, they hold your gaze, their fingers gently grazing your cheek. In that moment, you feel the weight of their protective instincts and the depth of their emotions. They may not be able to erase the scars left by the traumatic experience, but their presence and unwavering support are a reminder that you’re not alone.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” J vows, their voice a whispered promise “I’ll handle this. Stay here while I call the police.”

And as you lean into their touch, the strength of their conviction envelops you, offering a glimmer of hope and healing amid darkness.

[starlightrows]

10 — Gratitude

Hiding In Plain Sight

← Previous - Next →

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Feelings of shame and guilt, catching feelings, fluff, oral sex (f receiving)

Summary: The squad gets some shore leave on the heels of your traumatic experience. Wolffe expresses his feelings, the only way he knows how

After you’ve recounted your story a second time to General Plo for the recording to be used as evidence, you feel incredibly drained now that the adrenaline has left your body. General Plo advises that you not return to your office for the time being, and that you not go anywhere on the base alone until Admiral Sarkany can be located and detained. And then he goes. Leaving you and Wolffe in silence.

He stands by the door for a moment, unsure of what to do now. He sits next to you on the bed a little stiffly. Then he gingerly puts his arm around your shoulders and leans his head over to rest on yours. The way you like to when he’s had a hard day. You accept his invitation and lean back onto his chest and sigh deeply. You wish he wasn’t wearing plastoid armor right now so you could feel his heartbeat. But this is nice.

“Want some good news?” He asks

“I need some good news” You say with a half hearted laugh

“Our leave request from eight months ago got approved. We have a full three days on Coruscant starting tomorrow morning” he tells you “I was planning to come tell you when you came in earlier”

“Immaculate timing” you joke “That actually sounds amazing… I know we just got back from medical leave and all, but some time away from here… I think that will help”

He nods against your head “You’ll be safer” That is also true. Admiral Sarkany can’t jump you in a hallway or slam you with work as retribution if you're off base and off duty. All of this shit can be dealt with later.

“I’ll call Rigga before we leave tomorrow and get a room at Silver Star for us” you say “Unless you have plans to be somewhere else”

He nudges you gently as if to say Oh come on!

“Call her later. Why don’t you relax and get some sleep” he sits up a bit, giving you more room to move. That actually does sound nice. You’ve been perpetually exhausted the last few days, a nap sounds really good.

“Will you lay down with me?” You ask hopefully

He gives you a wry smile and nods his head towards the bed, telling you lay down while I change clothes again

You move away from him and lay down on “your” side of the bed, while he strips off his armor and boots and gets into bed with you in just his black fatigues. He lays against your back and slips an arm around your waist. You do that thing he loves, a little shimmy or jiggle to settle yourself in followed by a deep breath before you doze off.

Wolffe feels better now that you’re not crying and hyperventilating. That was honestly a little horrifying to him. He’s never seen you cry before, certainly not like this. He’s seen fear in you before, this is a war after all. But he’s never seen that kind of terror in your eyes. Genuine fear of what might happen. But it’s more than that. The nagging pit in his stomach won’t let up. How many days did you say that this had been happening before it got this bad? Three? Four? Five even? Had you mentioned this earlier and he wasn’t listening? Could he have prevented this in some way?

He realizes it’s guilt. No, you hadn’t said anything about what was going on, because he never gave you the opportunity to do so. He isn’t the chatty or talkative type, and yet he had somehow managed to talk right over all you had been going through the past couple days. He wonders if you were intentionally not telling him about the Admiral’s disrespectful behavior. He wonders if you thought that he wouldn’t believe you or take you seriously. He wonders if you didn’t trust him.

He cuts himself off mid thought. You are being selfish, you miserable bastard. He chastised himself in his mind. She's been through enough today. He forces himself to push those thoughts away, into the back of his mind. Instead he closes his eyes and vows to get some sleep and deal with these feelings of guilt and insecurity later.

In the morning you wake up feeling better rested than you have in weeks, and your leave hasn’t even started yet. Wolffe is already awake when you sit up in bed, he’s doing up his boots and reading from a datapad.

“Working already?” You ask with a yawn

“Just making sure the boys know they’re off on leave too” he assures you “I’m leaving the datapad here”

“Good. I should probably go back to my room and get a bag together, and make that reservation at the hotel” You say, stretching as you get up

“Let me walk you to your quarters. We don’t need any trouble before our leave starts” he says with genuine concern in his voice. Wolffe can see your face fall when he says it.

“Oh… yeah. I suppose you’re right” you hadn’t exactly forgotten about what happened yesterday, but you had always felt safe on this base. It hurts to feel like that’s been taken away.

“Come on” he says “The sooner we get moving the sooner we can start our shore leave”

That does perk you up a little, so you quickly get dressed and leave his quarters. He escorts you back to your room with no issue, until you reach the door to your quarters where Slush is literally pacing.

“Oh thank the maker” He sighs in relief when he sees you and Wolffe coming down the hallway “What the fuck Doc?”

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’?” you ask, confused as to why he’s been pacing at your door for presumably a long time

“What the hell happened yesterday? I’ve been trying to com you all day yesterday and all morning. No one has seen you since breakfast yesterday!” he explains

Suddenly it dawns on you that you’d run away from him yesterday with absolutely zero information regarding what happened, and left your com device in your office when you fled the scene.

“I… um” you aren’t sure how to start this explanation

“Go pack” Wolffe says “I’ll tell him while we go back to your office and get your com device”

“Yeah okay” you nod, not really wanting to go back to your office yet anyway

“Do not leave your quarters” he says lowly “And don’t open the door unless it’s me or Slush”

You nod in agreement, and close the door. You’re immensely grateful he’s taking this seriously and thinking of the things that seem to be slipping your mind. You shake off some of the lingering feelings of fear and guilt that hang over you when you think about yesterday. You have three full days to relax and spend time with Wolffe. That is a luxury you are seldom given. So you get to it, packing a bag for the next couple days.

Meanwhile Slush follows Wolffe through the corridors and hallways down to your office where they find your space a mess. The chair is clearly broken, all of your work materials and belongings on your desk have been thrown to the ground and broken as well. There’s a blood smear on the door frame.

“Okay… with all due respect Commander, you need to tell me what’s going on” Slush says, with no trace of his usual carefree and jovial tone

“Yesterday she told Admiral Sarkany to back off of her campaign and he took that as an opportunity to try to extort her for favors” Wolffe says with a nasty edge creeping into his voice with the last word “She made a different choice”

“What the hell did she do to him?” Slush asks looking around the room

“Crushed his windpipe, beat him over the back with her desk chair and effectively ended his career by exposing his actions to the General” Wolffe says, feeling a touch of pride at how you’ve handled the situation thus far. But it’s still undercut by those feelings of immense guilt and insecurity that just won’t leave him alone.

“Fuck… I knew she was going through it this week, but I didn’t know it was this bad” Slush says scratching at his stubble

“At least you knew something was going on” Wolffe says a little bitterly

“She didn’t tell you how tough working with him has been?” Slush asks, a little surprised

“Well, I knew that. We all know that. But she didn’t tell me…” he pauses “I just wish she had said something before, about how badly he was treating her. The inappropriate comments and the leering. Maybe I could have done something to protect her” Wolffe admits

“You tell her that?” Slush says, picking up the broken chair and setting it in the corner of the room and moving to start picking up the items that had been on your desk

“No” Wolffe replies, joining his brother in picking up the papers and pens from the floor

“Maybe you should” Slush shrugs “Commander, I know about the two of you. Maybe you need to let her know how you feel about all this and you want her to be able to talk to you about these things”

“When did you find out?” Wolffe asks, honestly surprised that Slush knew

“When you got injured. Didn’t mean to find out, didn’t suspect a thing until she thought she was about to lose you” Slush says

“Hmmm” Wolffe grumbles, something else you didn’t tell him “Doesn’t she need me to be… steadfast for her right now. Shoulder to cry on, that kind of thing?” Wolffe asks, a little irritated that Slush doesn’t seem to understand that he’s trying to be considerate of your feelings.

“Yeah, I’m sure she does. But she’s also gonna want to know that you want to know when things like this are happening. That she can trust you, ya know” Slush says tossing some broken things into the trash bin

Wolffe grumbles in response, knowing Slush is probably right.

“Just love on her a little this weekend, it’ll go a long way” Slush says, picking up your com device that had managed to slide under your desk. He hands the com device to Wolffe, pats his shoulder and leaves your office.

Wolffe stays there for a minute, leaning against the edge of your desk staring at the com device in his hand. How many times had he kissed you in this office? How many times had you sat here, sending him messages while he was stuck in borning war meetings to cheer him up? How many times had he opened your door and just stood there because you took his breath away?

Love on her a little Slush had said… Wolffe had an idea brewing in the back of his mind. Something he’d been wanting to do for you for a while.

He makes his way back to your quarters and knocks on the door. Once he verifies that it’s him, you open the door and step out wearing your civilian clothing and holding a duffle bag. He had nearly forgotten how much he loves seeing you in regular clothing. Jeans that fit just right. A comfortable sweater to keep you warm against the chill of Coruscant in autumn. It turns the corners of his lips up in a small smile.

“Ready?” you ask, locking the door behind you. He nods and walks with you down the halls to the main entrance point to the base where lots and lots of soldiers are waiting to check out of the base and start their shore leave.

“I never called Rigga” you say shrugging your shoulders in frustration with yourself upon realizing your mistake “I’ll be right back”

He nods and watches you walk away from him and the line of people waiting to check out. Wolffe hopes that you are able to get a room at Silver Star, selfishly because he really liked staying there with you the last time. Realistically because it’s the only nice establishment that will serve clones. But also because he knows that you had your heart set on it, and you really enjoy being there too.

You come back with a smile on your face and a spring in your step. A good sign. “She says that we can drop off our stuff with her but we won’t be able to check in until later. But we can have the same room we had last time!”

“Sounds good” he nods “You have plans for us already?”

“Just a couple” you admit “I have a couple places I want to take you to eat, and there’s a street market I figured we could walk around”

“Lead on Captain” he smiles

The line to check out for shore leave moves relatively quickly, and in no time you’re off the base and riding in a speeder cab towards Silver Star. Rigga is happy to take your bag and enthusiastically greets Wolffe again.

“Love your new look Commander” she comments clearly noticing the eye “Dashing and dangerous darling! You’d better be careful with this one” She tells you with a laugh. If it were anyone else, he might be annoyed. But Rigga has grown on him, and he knows she means the compliment genuinely.

Now that you’re not on base and no one knows who either of you are, you enjoy getting to hold his hand as you stroll through the street market. He thoroughly enjoys the aromatic and flavorful caf drink you buy for him from one of their vendors. He stops with you at any stall that catches your eye, and looks at things that interest him too. Many things you can explain to him what their intended purpose is, but he enjoys getting to hear the vendors and craftsmen describe their work to him as well.

He enjoys letting you lead during excursions like this. He’s noticed over time when you’re in a place you’ve been to before or you know a lot about you get excited to show him, or really anyone you’re with, the best parts of it. He loves it, all he has to do is hold your hand and follow where you go.

You purchase a plate of street food that seems to be exceptionally flat bread with shredded meat and some kind of chopped raw vegetables sprinkled on top. You drizzle sauce on his portion and assure him you’re sure he’ll love it. The sauce burns, but you’re right he does love it.

“This. This is my favorite food you’ve shown me so far” He says pointing down at the plate

“Then you have excellent taste” you laugh “I’ll add hot sauce to the list of things Wolffe loves”

He chuckles at that. He vaguely wonders if you actually have a running list of things he loves. It’s not something he thinks about often. Flavors or smells or things he likes or doesn’t like. Well, he knows he likes hot sauce now.

Afternoon stretches into evening, eventually it starts getting chilly and the sun starts to set. You walk a little closer next to him, partially for warmth and also just to be safe. This may be one of the upper levels of Coruscant, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe at night. You lead him back to Silver Star and head up to the room that’s ready for you now.

When you open the door to the room the smell of clean linen hits his nose. It is the same room the two of you stayed in before. You drop your duffel beside the bed, and work on taking off your shoes. He shucks off his own boots, and his remaining armor pieces. He stands by the window in just his fatigues, and gazes out at the city. After you’ve gotten your shoes off, you join him standing just behind him. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head between his shoulder blades.

The quiet stillness in the room is comforting. Even in private spaces on the base like yours or his quarters, your office, any of the many supply closets and empty barracks; there’s always noise. People walking on other levels of the base, ships taking off and landing, the never ending mechanical sounds that seem to just be part of existence in the GAR. But not here. The glass panes in the windows are thick and insulate the room from the sounds of the city, being on the corner you only have to share a wall with one other room and right now it’s completely quiet.

His hand settles over yours where it rests on his chest. There is no need for words right now. You both needed this break from the constant noise that fills your lives. This quiet and private time to just be together. Especially after the last few weeks. But as his mind lulls that nagging guilty feeling twists in his gut again. He makes an effort to push it back to the edges of his mind, now is not the time.

Instead, he turns around to face you and places a hand on your neck and jaw, cradling your face as he presses his lips to yours. You respond in kind, kissing him back and gently holding his arm. His tongue darts out, swiping your bottom lip and coaxing you to open for him. You indulge and part your lips, allowing him to kiss you more fully. He tilts his head and deepens the moment, giving the back of your neck the gentlest squeeze. That earns him a low moan from deep in your throat. On a normal night, a sound like that might drive him wild. But tonight, he has no intention of falling into normal habits when it comes to sex. Tonight he has other plans.

His lips migrate from yours and leave a trail of kisses up your jawline, down your neck and across your shoulder. He drags his lips back towards the hollow at the base of your neck and places a lingering kiss there. He traces a line back up with his nose until he reaches your lips once more.

He’s never been like this before. He’s kissed you in all kinds of ways. Intense, bruising and passionate kisses; playful, explorative, eager kisses; grateful kisses full of craving for validation. This is entirely different. This is gentle, seductive, reverent.

He takes a couple steps forward into you, gently guiding your steps backwards towards the bed behind you. When you feel the mattress touch the back of your thighs you sink down to sit and feel him bend down with you, never letting his lips leave your skin. His hands slip underneath your shirt, and caress your sides. Up and down over the skin that covers your waist and ribs. It’s slow, easy strokes up and down, a little higher each time until his thumbs are massaging your nipples through the material of your bra. You hum in appreciation, thoroughly enjoying his softer touches and hungry kisses.

He helps you take off your sweater and leans back just a bit to watch you take off your bra. You can see on his face, he likes watching you take your clothes off, the pleased smirk that pulls at his lips. The way his eyes can not be torn from your body. You indulge him, standing again to unbutton your jeans and turning away from him so you can lean down when you pull them off.

Your little strip tease is working, he can feel himself becoming more aroused by the minute, but he’s determined to stay focused on the matter at hand. Tonight has nothing to do with him, this is for you.

When you turn back around to face him, he’s there waiting, he puts a hand on your shoulder, another at your hip and his lips by your ear. “Lay back for me”

You give him a slightly questioning look, but don’t comment. Instead you sit on the bed and ease yourself down onto your back. He leans back over you, taking care to position himself in such a way that prevents you from taking the brunt of his bodyweight, but still holding you close as he slants his lips over yours to kiss you breathless.

His hands roam, his fingers flex to squeeze the soft flesh over your hip bones and pull at your panties. He tugs at your bottom lip with gentle teeth, before releasing you. You are absolutely floored. You were expecting another night of fast, fun, cathartic sex; this feels like something else entirely. And you are unsure how to handle it. He kisses down your neck, across the expanse of your chest… lingering at your sternum while he massages your breasts, before traveling down to the waistband of your panties.

Your breath hitches when he presses a kiss to your core, through your panties. Your reaction is instant. You feel warm and flushed from head to toe. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls them down over your thighs and off your body entirely.

You shiver in anticipation, watching him shift back down to your already aroused sex. His hands slide up the back of your thighs to cup your ass cheeks in both hands, and to your surprise, lift you up off the bed just a couple of inches to meet his slightly parted lips.

His tongue pushes between your folds and licks up towards your clit. Up and down, up and down. Devilishly slow and tactful with how he flicks his tongue at the top of each stroke.

He listens. To every breath, every sound you make. At the top of one of his strokes he stops. He mouths at your clit, circling your sensitive bud and listening to your needy whimpers change. He keeps his attention there, flicking his tongue back and forth over your clit, sucking on it while feeling his mouth and chin get wet with your slick.

He changes it up, let’s your ass drop back to the bed and uses his hands to push your legs open wider to continue. He pushes your pussy lips back and admires the slick that’s starting to dribble from your hole.

He stays focused. Using his tongue to rapidly flick your clit. He groans into you, and returns to the broader up and down strokes but keeping them short so he never strays far from your pretty little clit.

You are a moaning mess. His tongue works wonders and you would do pretty much anything to prevent him from stopping.

Encouraged by your enthusiastic and increasingly more desperate moans, he picks up the pace. His mouth devours your clit, suckling and slurping at it, making the most explicit sounds of wet pleasure. His fingers work to hold your folds open for his mouth to work at you. The tip of his finger teases your hole, pressing in just slightly, aided by your slick.

You whine feeling him push in a little. You want it. You want everything. You want to cum. You just need a little more.

He doesn’t let up. He knows you’re close and he has no intention of withholding that from you. He presses his finger in a little deeper, just to the first knuckle and moves his tongue over your clit fast enough it feels like it’s actually vibrating!

Your groan of pleasure and shaking legs are all the proof he needs. He slows up, and just licks your clit up and down, wanting you to finish fully without being overstimulated. That white hot feeling of pleasure burns through you and you feel an explosive release of tension throughout your whole body. Your face is frozen in slack jawed ecstasy and your heart hammers in your chest.

Wolffe pulls his face away from your now dripping sex and kisses your your inner thighs while you come back down a bit. He feels entirely confident he did that right and you are wholeheartedly satisfied.

As you lay there catching your breath, he takes a minute to wipe off his face with the sleeve of his shirt and eventually just takes the whole thing off along with his pants. He settles himself down on the bed beside you with a soft groan.

You turn your head to face him, unable to help the dopey smile on your face “Holy shit… That was amazing, what brought that on?” You ask with a bit of a tease

For a moment he’s ready. Ready to tell you the truth about the guilt that’s been eroding his heart the last couple days. Ready to tell you how he really feels. But, it just doesn’t feel like the right time.

“Had a craving” he smirks

“Feel free to indulge whenever you’d like” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand.

He’s relieved you bought it. Not an untrue statement anyway. He’d never done that for you before, never actually done it to anyone before. And it was something that had been on his mind lately.

He noticed you suppress a yawn behind your hand. He turns over into his side “Come on, you need to get some sleep” he says warmly

“What about you?” You ask trying to force down get another yawn

“We’ve got time, remember?” He reminds you

“Mmmm” you hum, settling in closer to him “Are you sure?”

He pulls you in close and closes his eyes “I’m sure”

His skin is warm against yours, his chest rumbles when he speaks. It’s very relaxing and you are hard pressed to fight him on it. You have three whole days to enjoy with him, plenty of time to return the favor. With that comforting thought, sleep washes over you like a gentle wave of the ocean.

Wolffe on the other hand. Can not sleep. He had hoped that taking his time, spelling out his love for you with his actions, worshiping your body the way you deserved… would release the guilt that plagues him. Instead, it’s all bubbling up in his chest. Seeing you so soft in sleep, relaxed and pliant after cumming on his tongue, being warm and safe beside him; it’s too much.

He adjusts his head to rest snuggly over yours, and rubs your back mindlessly. “I never meant to shut you out” he whispers into the darkness “I never want you to think I won’t take you seriously when something’s wrong. I would have done anything to protect you from that”

Your breathing remains deep and even, completely asleep and unaware of Wolffe’s confessions.

“I hate myself for feeling guilty. Nothing happened to me. You cried in my arms and told me your fear was being court martialed or transferred away. And I sat there feeling sorry for myself for not being a good enough partner for you” he swallows hard, saying it out aloud even though nobody can hear it is still a hard thing to do “You deserve everything. You deserve someone who listens when you’re scared or sad or whatever… I promise… I promise I will be better for you. I won’t ever let something like this happen again”

You let out a deep breath in your sleep and shift just a little. He feels remarkably better, like some of the weight has been lifted off his chest. But he knows it is a temporary fix. In the morning, he’ll man up and have actual conversation with you about everything. Because you deserve that. And he wants to be someone you deserve.

Tag List:

@maulslittlemeowmeow @lucyysthings @justanothersadperson93 @lackofhonor @paige6768 @thefact0rygirl @littedragonlady @sliceuhglyfe

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

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masterlist | playlist | chapter vii

Chapter VIII: It’s Enough To Startle Us

tags/warnings: brief descriptions of wounds, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, slow burn, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, angst (though this chapter is sufficiently less angsty. but i guess y’all deserve a break. but it’s not gone forever hehe)

summary: The events of the night before send Eddie into a panic, and you into even deeper confusion. lots of eddie’s pov in this one bc we love watching him writhe and suffer. This chapter is pretty short, but i think it’s necessary to break between this and when shit Goes Down soon. so stay tuned! feedback is always appreciated!

a/n: idk what happened but when i titled this fic i was so sure Schism by Tool had come out by 1992. Jokes on me, it didn’t until 2001, so we’re gonna ignore that (and not mention the song in the fic, even though it is the title. Bc i can’t change the title now! and i like it anyway! so there!) Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

April 1986

“Hey, hey. Easy now.” Eddie throws his arm over your shoulder for support as you help him sit up. “This is gonna sting, okay? But that’s because it’s working. We’re gonna make you feel better.”

“I know what’ll make me feel better.” Eddie’s words string together, a blissed out smile on his face. He’s on a lot of painkillers, making him far happier than he should be right now.

You give your boyfriend a sad smile. “That would make me happy, too. But the doctor said no strenuous activity for at least six weeks. We can’t prolong your healing process if you wanna walk at graduation. Arms up.”

He obliges, wincing as he raises his arms above his head. You take the hem of his shirt, gently pulling it up over his torso, revealing the stained and sticky bandages that cover his wounds. The sight hurts your heart, seeing the man you love in so much pain. You get to work undressing the wounds, careful to peel slowly as not to irritate the scabs underneath. Once he’s bare, Eddie looks down to see his scarred and serrated flesh, frowning at the gore. “Think these will scar?” He asks, going to poke one of his black and blue spots before you swat his hand away.

“Oh, I dunno, probably not too badly.” You dig around in your bag for the fresh gauze.

He frowns at your words. “If I’m gonna be impaired like this, the least I could get is some sick battle scars.”

You giggle at him, grateful he’s still himself even after such a traumatizing experience. “Okay fine. They’ll be the most gnarly, metal scars anyone’s ever seen.”

“That’s more like it.” Eddie looks up at you with glazed, sleepy eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You wet a piece of gauze with bacitracin.*

“For loving me. Takin’ care of me in my battered state. What’s a freak like me done to deserve such a beautiful companion?”

You blush at his words, knowing they ring true even through his fog. “You didn’t do anything. I just like ‘em freaky.” You lean in, and he meets you halfway connecting his lips to yours. “Now hold still, this is gonna suck.”

*a/n changed rubbing alcohol to bacitracin bc why tf would u use rubbing alcohol on healing wounds supposedly assessed by a doctor. it’s not like they’re dirty jfdkjccj anyway.. moving on

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

The sun streams in through the haphazardly drawn shades of his hotel room, rousing him from another uncomfortable sleep. Eddie groans, the pounding in his head increasing as he shifts to lie on his back. He’s still fully clothed, sans his boots, left with indents on his arms made by the denim of his vest. He tries, desperately, to recount the events of last night. I gambled, I lost, I came back here, I went to see… Oh no.

He shoots up in bed, regretting it immediately as the sharp pain in his head jabs him again. What the fuck did I say to them? He squeezes his eyes shut, begging his brain to let him remember. He only sees the look on your face, a pitying concern as you yank his shoes off, leaving him to fight the hangover the next day. He remembers mumbling to you as the door opened, one foot already in the hallway. Shit.

It’s probably the most honest he’s been with you in years, but he didn’t want it to happen that way. It isn’t fair, after you finally got everything you’ve ever wanted, to drop what probably was a huge bomb on you. He assumes it was, at least.

—

Your POV

Ugh. You rise from your bed, kicking the comforter off as you try to ignore the pounding in your head. Memories of last night flood back like a tidal wave, and you're helpless in stopping them. I'd still choose you. Eddie’s words repeat in your head like a broken record, a mantra you desperately want to believe even though you know you shouldn’t. You need to tell someone. You need to talk to Steve.

You caress the hotel phone between your ear and your shoulder, dialing Steve’s room number and tapping your socked foot on the carpet. Pick up, pick up, pick up. “Hello?” His voice is groggy, you must’ve woken him up.

“Rise an’ shine, buddy, I have drama I need to spill.” You rush the words out and Steve responds with a sigh.

“What happened? You get back okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Well, I'm not fine, that’s why I’m calling. But I got back okay.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” You can almost hear him place his hand on his hip.

“Eddie came to my room last night.” The line is silent. You hear Steve inhale sharply, but nothing else. “Earth to Steve?”

“Hey, yeah. Sorry, I feel like this is my fault.”

“How is Eddie drunkenly banging on my hotel room door your fault?”

“I may have told him to do it.”

“YOU WHAT?!” You can’t help but bellow the words, surprised by your best friend’s idiocy.

“I didn’t tell him to do that, but I keep telling him he needs to talk to you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve relays this news to you. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you two need to fix this shit! I’m tired of playing messenger when one of you gets drunk and sad and talks about the other for hours. You two need to start acting like adults!”

“Steve, who is asking you to play messenger? I’m asking you to play, I dunno, best friend? I never asked you to tell Eddie anything, I only need you to listen to me whine!”

“You ever think I’m tired of listening to you two whine?!”

You chew your bottom lip. “The thought may have crossed my mind. Whatever! He shouldn’t have come to my room drunk. He said some weird shit.”

It’s Steve’s turn to go meek. “What kind of weird shit?”

You debate whether to tell him, whether Steve really needs to know the gory details. You eventually decide he does, as your hired caretaker. “He pretty much told me, if I’d give him the chance, he’d drop everything. Be with me.”

Steve groans into the receiver, and it pulls a breathy laugh from your nervous throat. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“You think he meant it?”

“Has he ever lied to you?”

You take a second to answer. He’s hidden things from you, but he’s never outwardly lied. Eddie’s known for his blunt truthfulness, in fact, and it’s one thing you admire about him. “No, he’s never lied to me. Even while drunk.”

“Okay, then he’s probably not lying. The real question is if he remembers saying that.”

“Chances are he’ll act like he doesn’t, regardless.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock on the nightstand. “Shit, I gotta go. I promised everyone we’d get breakfast. Will you check on Eddie for me?”

“You could check on him?”

“Haha, good one! No, thanks.”

“Yeah, I’ll check on him. Take it easy on him if you do talk, though. You know as well as I do he hasn’t been doing well.”

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Stevie.”

“Of course, Y/n. See you later.”

“Bye.” The line clicks, and you hang up. Ugh!

—

You relay last night’s events to your bandmates and stylist at breakfast between sips of mimosas.

“He said that?!” Robin almost chokes on her pancake, causing Sylvie to snort orange juice through their nose. “And you just left?! Y/n!” Robin scarfs down another bite between sentences, eager to finish her thought.

“Honestly, I can’t believe Steve told him to talk to you!” Harley scoffs, her pretty eyes rolling. “Men are so dumb!”

You shrug. “I wish he’d just talk to me like a normal person. Only ever happens when he’s drunk, or I’m drunk, or some weird third party pisses one of us off enough.”

“Do you miss him?” Sylvie asks between nibbles of bacon.

You aren’t sure. Of course, you miss the people you were. You miss how real that love felt, how Eddie always felt like home. Until he got signed, a year out of high school, and let the fame eat at his heart slowly. “I don’t know.” You shake your head sadly.

“Maybe you two need, like, an intervention.” Lilith suggests, earning a baffled look from you in response. “What? You guys were in love, that’s super close to being addicted to something. And Eddie could probably use a real intervention, all the drinking he’s been doing.” She adds sadly, “Death and rock ‘n’ roll go hand in hand. I'd hate to see him end up like that.”

You think back to high school. To the Upside Down, and Eddie almost dying. For him to go through that and survive, only to be taken out by too much whiskey, would destroy you. You nod. “Maybe we do need an intervention. But isn’t part of the point for us to be surprised by it? What good will it do if I know?”

Lilith shrugs. “I'm not a doctor!”

It causes an eruption of laughter from your table.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Dude.” Steve whacks him on the arm as he sits down at the table. Hotel guests bustle around them, picking from stale muffins and cold eggs for their so-called continental breakfast.

“Ow! What?” Eddie’s nursing an orange juice, playing with the bacon on his plate that’s burnt and cold.

“I made sure you got to your room last night. I watched you go inside. When did you go see Y/n?”

“Steve, I know you’re used to being the babysitter, but I’m a grown man. I can go on a nightly excursion or two if I feel so inclined.” Eddie takes another sip of his juice as Steve pours himself some coffee.

“Okay, but those little side quests shouldn’t include embarrassing yourself, right?”

“Did they say I embarrassed myself?” He can’t help the worry that colors his tone.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I added that. But you know that isn’t what I meant when I said you should talk. That’s probably the last thing I meant.”

“Yeah, see, my drunk brain doesn’t really care what someone means versus what they tell me to do. You said talk, I talked. Nothing happened.”

“And you don’t know what you said?” Eddie shakes his head. “Do you want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Y/n told me you said you’d drop everything for them. If they’d give you that chance, you’d choose them over this. Over Corroded Coffin.”

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s underwater. He’s drowning, Steve’s voice sounding more muted as the seconds tick by. He only blinks at his friend, offering no hints of what he’s thinking. He knows he means the words, but knowing he’s said them aloud is a whole different game.

“Ed?”

“Hm?” Eddie drags his eyes away from the wall in front of him, slowly bringing his attention back to Steve.

“Did you mean that?”

He looks into his best friend’s eyes. They’ve grown tired, not with age but with increased proximity to terror and now, two very immature adults.

Eddie throws his hands up, waving them like a white flag of surrender. “Maybe I do! Does that mean it’s logical? That I should give up everything to be with them? I don’t know! They’ve done little more than put up with me so far, I can’t gauge the way they feel about me. I just know that I-“

“You love them. Yeah. That’s been established.”

Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. It’s a sound of utter defeat, tinged maybe by a bit of acceptance. “What am I gonna do now?!”

It’s Steve’s turn to throw his hands up. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Fine,” Eddie brings himself to his feet dramatically, somehow not toppling over as the room spins slightly. “Then I’ll ask someone I know can help me.”

—

Eddie finally finds her, sitting by the hotel pool with a thick book in her lap. Eddie steps up to where she’s lounging, her freckled skin damp from the moist air. She looks up at him, cupping her hand over her eyes to block the rays of sun escaping behind Eddie’s wild curls. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Hey, Bobby.” Eddie plops down on the plastic chair next to Robin, clasping his hands together as if to plead with her. “How’re things?”

Robin makes a show of snapping her book shut, angling her body to face Eddie. “What the hell do you want, Munson?”

Eddie feigns offense, clutching his chest with one hand, mouth agape like she’s told him Metallica don’t make good music anymore. “Why, it’s lovely to see you, too!” He scoffs, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

Robin doesn’t respond, her lips remain pursed as she waits for him to get to his point. It deflates Eddie, someone he was once so close with acting so coldly towards him. Though he supposes he should be used to the treatment by now. “I did a dumb thing.”

Robin lets out a laugh, but she lacks any trace of humor in her face. “On what planet would I want to help you cover your own stupid ass? We aren’t like that anymore, Ed. Get a grip.”

“Please, just listen to me. It’s about Y/n.” He recoils at his words, like saying them causes him pain. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how they took it, I was drunk, it kinda just slipped out.” He rambles on, much to Robin’s amusement. It’s not every day Robin isn’t the one letting her tongue flap on its own. “Wait. Did they tell you?” He takes in her smug expression, the way her arms cross over her chest. “Oh my god, they told you.” He’s mortified, jumping back into the air like an exterior force has ejected him from his seat.

“They told me. Of course, they told me!” Robin stands up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “They aren’t the one who left me when they got signed.”

Eddie’s heart cracks at her words. You’re not the only one that feels he left them. “Well, hang on. That’s different, you and Y/n are in the band together. Why would they leave you?”

Robin sighs. “That’s not the point, dingus! You broke both our hearts when you got signed. We barely heard from you for months at a time, and when we saw you, you were mean! And god, don’t get me started on Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Eddie’s almost sure she’s fucking with him now, Steve has never actually liked him that much.

“Never mind. Why do you need my help? What’s done is done, right? You said the thing, they probably didn’t believe you anyway.”

“What did they say?”

Robin shakes her head. “That’s for me to know, and for you to hope they’ll trust you enough to clue you in.”

Eddie hugs his arms around himself, shielding his vital organs from Robin’s magazine of words hurtling toward him. Each one stings more than the last, but he powers through. “I wanna make it up to them. I want to be normal around them.”

“Try not drinking an entire bottle before you see them next time. Just hang out. Don’t play mind games with them. Be a fucking normal human.” She ticks the suggestions on her fingers. “You can’t make a grand gesture after two years of not seeing them. It will take time for them to trust you again. Especially with your later track record.”

Eddie huffs, trying to calm himself as Robin berates him. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. This will take time.”

“Don’t do it for their sake. They’re okay without you, y’know. I don’t wanna see them hurt like that again. So if you’re gonna try to be in their life, in our lives again, you better fucking mean it.”

Eddie nods so hard his head pounds. He means it, he swears he means it. Robin nods back, doubt still painted on her freckles. She doesn’t believe him.

“Rob?” She looks back into his eyes, and he can read the hurt in her expression. He’s been so caught up, living what he thought was the only dream he had. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

She scoffs, this time less convincingly. “‘Course ya are.” It takes everything in him not to wrap his arms around his estranged friend, muttering apologies until the sun sets. But he has other things to fix now, more amends to make.

—

Your POV

You’re smoking a joint in the dressing room of the club. The openers tonight are some Vegas locals, you forget what they’re called. Your friends are socializing somewhere backstage, waiting for the show runner to summon you to the stage. Usually you’d have joined them by now, but you’re marinating in Eddie’s words of last night, trying to find a hint of truth in them. You don’t know if there is any, if anything would convince you Eddie would choose you over his dream. You’d never asked him to, you never wanted him to have to choose. Being with him through it all was the point. But he chose to stop making you a priority the bigger Corroded Coffin got. The more attention he received from the public, the less you received from him.

Your eyes are closed, joint between your lips as My Drug Buddy plays quietly on your little radio when there’s a knock on the open door to the room. You mumble a “come in,” expecting Harley to touch up your makeup, or Steve to give you your pep talk.

“Hi.” His familiar voice sends a chill down your back, and your eyes shoot open. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame like an out of place mannequin.

“Hi.” You shift on the couch, sitting up and crossing your legs as if to look more awake than you feel. He doesn’t say anything else, and you’re not sure why he’s here, but you’re tired of walking on eggshells any time he’s in front of you. You offer the still lit joint in his direction, not moving so he’d have to walk to you to get it. “Smoke?”

He can’t resist, he pushes off the wall and walks toward you, plucking the burning herb from your fingers. “Mind if I sit?”

You shrug, scooching over slightly to make room for him. You watch as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes as he fills his lungs. He’s already dressed for the show, his shirt a plain white tee he’s cropped so it sits just above his navel, and his jeans majorly ripped at each knee. Sylvie’s question rings through you again. Do you miss him? Based solely on this moment, his proximity to you, his knee daringly close to brushing yours, you think you have your answer.

Before you can ask, Eddie speaks again. “Look, about last night,” He pauses to ash the joint, bringing it to his lips once more. “I was wasted. That wasn’t fair to you, having to listen to all that. I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

He passes the joint back to you, and you inhale deeply before responding, tasting the remnants of his own mouth on the filter. “It’s okay, I get it. I know it’s hard being around me like this.” You look to the floor, trying to ignore the way your heart continues to bang in your chest.

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, of course it’s hard, seeing you again. But not because you left, not because anything you did hurt me. It’s just, being reminded of what could have been. What I did wrong.”

You look back into his eyes, and they’re misty, sparkling in the harsh lights of the room. He doesn’t blame you for leaving him? “Did you mean what you said? Last night?” You’re not sure what you want his answer to be.

He hesitates for a second. When he responds, it’s like he’s ripping the rug out from under you. “I think I did. I do, I mean. I do mean it. But that’s all hypothetical. I don’t expect you to trust me, I did a lot of things wrong when we broke up. But maybe we could just, I dunno, be friends? At least for the tour.” His smile is sad, but his words make your heart flutter. Friends. It’s more than you could ask for, all you’d wanted was civility, peace of mind. But “friends” sounds so hopeful, so promising.

You nod, plucking the joint from his fingers again. “I really, truly, would love that. Friends.”

He smiles again, this time an ear to ear, giant smile that you’d missed seeing.

“Hey, Y/n-“ Steve pauses in the doorway then, cutting himself off to take in the sight in front of him: You and Eddie smiling at each other, sitting so close you’re almost touching. “You uh, you guys okay?” You both nod, and for the first time you’re sure you mean it. “Alright, cool. Death Dance goes on in ten. See you out there.” You catch the knowing smirk Steve sends you, and you bite your lip in excitement, or embarrassment, you’re not sure. When Steve leaves, you chance another look at Eddie, who averts his eyes quickly to the couch space between you.

“I should finish getting ready.” You don’t want him to leave, you’re afraid to lose this mirage of calm with him.

He nods, bringing himself to his feet and offering his hand to help you out. You take it in yours, ignoring the chill that once again shoots through you. “Break a leg.” He says, still standing awkwardly close to you, unsure of what to do with himself. You nod, thanking him silently, and he turns on his heel and leaves you again, alone in the room with several confusing and contradicting thoughts.

—

chapter ix

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[ratcatcher0325]

When Alexander is underwater does he get wet? Or does the water get him instead?

Greetings Anon!

What is this? Am I some sort of joke to you? What sort of an ask is this?

I'm almost instantaneously feeling a sharp pain in my temples just having to deal with this question. Ugh. Really?

Is this just a follow up to the "is water wet" question? I already answered that, here:

https://www.tumblr.com/ratcatcher0325/714439849786195968/alexander-is-water-wet-we-had-a-debate-on-it?source=share

Or, are you trying to coax my rage by reminding me of my not-altogether-pleasant experiences with water lately? There was that disgusting pond where I slipped and fell and was nearly obliterated underfoot of that insufferably loud golfer. There was the most humiliating bath of my life, which ended in me being dressed in that damned unicorn shirt. Then, of course, we had the time I was sick with fever and infection and had to, most pathetically, cling to a certain human's finger just to stay afloat, while fighting to stay conscious. And, lastly, we had our most recent traumatizing experience featuring some particularly frigid water and one horrendously loud alarm blaring in my sensitive ear drums.

Is this what you wanted Anon? A recounting of my infuriating water-related trials and tribulations?

Are you implying through these that the water has "gotten me"?

Of course, just like every other living, sensorial being on the planet, I experience the 'wetness' that my nervous system has developed me to feel. That's basic science. Again, please refer to the previous ask, I so loathe to repeat myself.

However, and let me be extremely clear on this, I have not, nor will I ever be bested by anyone or anything, ever, in my life: the element of water, included.

So thanks for your little joke, it was quite hilarious. Ha ha ha. Can you hear me laughing through this text?

I hope you step in a puddle today and ruin your shoes.

Yours not Wetly,

Alexander

[acacia-may]

Ooo for the ask game! 1, 14, and 20 please Acacia 🥰?

Hi there, Lyra! Thank you so much for the ask and for playing the fic writer's ask game! I really appreciate it and would absolutely love to answer these questions for you. 🥰

Answers below the cut because this post is long...😅

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

One-shots without a doubt, no question. I struggle to keep up the motivation to write multi-chaptered fics (and often get distracted by other projects and then get stressed that I've left a multi-chaptered fic unfinished 🙈). I think it suits the stories I like to write too because my favorite stories are these slice of life scenes, like little windows into the characters' lives at a particular moment in time. That works well for a one shot, but it's harder to do that with a multi-chapter story. I will usually write multi-chapter works only when the length requires it or to indicate jumps in time or locations and/or changes in POV character. 😅

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

It depends on the scene, but I would say more often than not yes, I really empathize with the character whose perspective I'm writing in. I really try to get into their head and feel what they feel as much as I can when I'm writing. I generally try to talk through my dialogue to make sure it flows and work out any issues with it sounding clunky or forced, but this often really helps me get into a character’s head too (it's kind of like method acting in a way haha). While drafting one of my most recent stories, for instance, I will admit I cried real, actual tears at a certain point in the conversation I was working through--just really getting in touch with how much pain the pov character was in while recounting a very traumatic experience, and I'll admit that I used that as inspiration for my writing like "Here. This is where his voice hitches, and he finally starts to cry."

As for whether I draw on personal experiences when I write, I think it kind of depends. I don't have a lot of personal experience regarding a lot of the heavier subjects I write about because they haven't happened to me, but I do have a personal connection to them through some degrees of separation. For instance, I used to keep the books for a non-profit organization that provided grief counseling. I just did the accounting (counseling is not my calling), but I think I do pull on that experience and all the words of wisdom of my counselor coworkers a lot when I write about grief and grieving characters--trying my best to be sensitive and realistic to the pain they would be experiencing. It's something I have a real heart and empathy for even though it's not something I have really experienced myself.

Since I write about a lot of heavier topics, it is so important to me to really be sensitive to them and delicate and realistic in my portrayals which can be difficult when writing about something I don't have personal experience with, I will often do research and try to read first-hand accounts of people who experienced something similar. For instance, I've been writing a lot about the struggles of trying to open up to love again after death of a romantic partner (and all the guilt and complicated feelings that come along with that) recently, and my google search history looks like I'm a lonely widow worried I will never love again. [Special shout out to the "Widowers Support Network" and all the wonderful work they do! 💕].

But occasionally, there are times where I do relate in some way to the subject matter and emotions of characters in a particular story. I try not to project too much (since I worry it would make the characters too ooc and that's my biggest fear as fic writer), but there have been some times where I do draw on some personal feelings of mine (I think it makes for better writing to put your heart into it). And I'll admit that sometimes I do write hurt/comfort that is sort of wish-fulfillment in a way (either what I wish I had said to someone I loved when they were hurting or what I wish someone had said to me. More often than not it's what I wish I could say to the fictional characters though). It's very cathartic for me.

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

So I am honestly a little bit insecure about this, but I do worry sometime that I just write the same story over and over sometimes 😅: Character A and Character B have a heart-to-heart chat and lovely hurt/comfort in an unexpected location. My sister assures me it's fine because it's different characters, different subject matter, and/or different locations each time but still, it does make me worry I'm a one trick pony sometimes.

Additionally, my sister recently teasingly picked apart that I can really only write one (1) kiss scene too. I don't write a lot of romance and when I do I don't usually have the characters kiss, so I'll admit that I do tend to recycle the same descriptions and/or structure of the kiss sequence. Generally 3 or 4 sentences as follows:

(1) The actual kiss action occurs.

(2) Additional action description (generally what the characters do with their hands: i.e. around the neck, cupping the face, gripping the shirt collar, tangled in the hair ect)

(3) Sensory (i.e. the taste of xyz on their breath) and/or qualifying (i.e. slow, sweet, deliberate, persistent, longing ect.) descriptions. (Sometimes part of sentence 2)

(4) The break apart (and I tend to use this exact description of "they broke apart red-faced and breathless" over and over so I have been trying to avoid that)

I've been really trying to branch out and try to write new, different kiss sequences but I don't write a lot of romance so I'm not sure if this is a skill I actually need to worry about cultivating. But I'm kind of determined now that my sister keeps teasing me about it.

Other repeated things in my writing: there is a lot of shopping (either mentioned or as an activity that the characters actually do in the story), and the characters sigh a lot. I've been trying to be more mindful of that and change up the word choice, but that's definitely a problem. I also fall into the habit of repeating the same descriptor words once I pick some that suit a particular character (i.e. shyer characters are "sheepish" quite a bit).

In terms of themes, I think hurt/comfort is probably the most common. I also love wholesome content and tend to write about platonic relationships like family and friendship. When I branch into romance, it's generally an established relationship and/or friends-to-lovers. I also love fluff and shenanigans.