#sharing a bed prompts

[scealaiscoite]

prompts for sharing a bed ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

— sharing a pillow and waking up with their faces only centimetres apart

— cuddling in their sleep

— falling asleep to the sound of the other’s heartbeat

— warming their hands by slipping them up the other’s shirt and onto their back/stomach

— playing with the other’s hair while they sleep

— falling asleep with their head laying in the lap of their lover

— waking up to their partner tracing the divots of their spine

— one talking to the other when they think they’re asleep

— waking up in the other’s arms

— resting their head on the other's stomach, only to fall asleep there

— drawing patterns onto their partner's body

— intertwining their legs together

— sleeping back-to-back

— watching the other sleep

— going to sleep as the big spoon and waking up as the little spoon

— one talking in their sleep and the other listening fondly

— lovingly tracing the other's scars

— gently kissing the other awake

— one falling asleep on the other's shoulder while they talk

— massaging wherever is sore

[dumplingsjinson]

List of sharing a bed prompts

“This line mustn’t be crossed or I’m going to kick you off the fucking bed.”

“Why must I share a bed with them out of all people?!” 

“It’s cold, get under the covers.”

“C’mere… Want snuggles.” (Featuring grabby hands!!!)

Character A waking up to Character B, their faces inches apart and them wondering how the fuck someone could look so beautiful while sleeping. (Bonus: them freaking out when Character B wakes up and catches them staring.) 

“Why’d you push me off the bed?!” “B-Because you’ve crossed the line!” 

“…You’re staring.” “I was not.” “I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” 

Character B being a blanket hogger and Character A letting them hog the blanket. 

“Why are you curled up like a prawn?” “Because you stole my side of the blanket!”  

Character B, being someone who likes to hug something in their sleep, ends up using Character A as their makeshift pillow. Character A isn’t too keen on it at first but they end up accepting their fate. (It’s the best night of sleep they’ve probably ever had since they were a kid.) 

“You were snoring the whole fucking night and I couldn’t get a wink of sleep because of that!”

“You were sleep talking last night.” “…What did I say?”

“Why the fuck is the bed wet?” “…I just happen to sweat a lot.” 

Character A begrudgingly letting Character B snuggle up to them but secretly enjoying it.

Character B spooning Character A even though Character A is usually the big spoon. 

“You’re so warm…”  “Fuck do you think I am, a reptile? Of course I’m warm.” 

“You’re so nice to hug.” 

“I like how soft you feel in my arms.” “…Thanks?” 

“How did we end up with your feet in my face?!” 

Their limbs getting all tangled up while they’re sleeping and then them waking up and literally falling off the bed when trying to disentangle themselves from each other while fully freaking out about it.

Character B hugging Character A immediately, sobs racking through their body after being shaken awake from their nightmare and Character A not knowing what the hell to do with their arms so they awkwardly pat their back, saying, “There, there…” 

“Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Come over here, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s okay, I’m here.” “You’re not going to leave, are you?” “I won’t.” “Promise?” “Promise.”

Character A enjoying sharing a bed with Character B but would never admit to it.

“We should do this more often.” “No fucking way, once is enough.” (They do it often after that.)

“Oi! Wake up!” “What? What happened?” “Why did you just moan in your sleep?” “…What, were you turned on by it?” “What?! No, of course not! Disturbed, but definitely not turned on.” 

“Your feet are so cold. What the hell?”

“Stop sticking your feet down my pants!” “It’s not my fault your asscheeks are hella warm.”

“Just… Please hold me for tonight. Just tonight, that’s all I’m asking for,” Character B whispers, arms tightening around Character A.

Character A sharing their bed with Character B so often the sheets and pillows are starting to smell like Character B. (Bonus: Character A missing their presence whenever they don’t wake up next to them.)

Character A waking up to Character B clinging onto them. Instead of waking them up to tell them to get off of them, they decide to let them be. 

Character A wakes up to Character B’s face right near theirs. They’re leaning in, still drowsy and not thinking straight, ready to risk it all, when Character B opens their eyes and Character A’s first instinct is to smack their face away. “That fucking hurt, you imbecile!” Character B cries out, glaring at them as they rub their nose.

“Do you remember us spooning last night?” “We did what?”

“Why am I naked, and most importantly, why are you naked?” “…I’m hurt. Do you really not remember what happened last night? Did I not give it to you good enough?” “Fucking excuse me?!” 

“I wanna be big spoon this time.” “But you’re tiny.”

[ogdoadfates]

Hi 😄

Can you do a prompt list of dialogues or gestures lovers can have while sharing a bed? (not in a sexual way, and when it's not the first time they're sharing it) pls :)

You got it! Think this is my first prompt list request???

Sharing a bed Prompts

Gently drawing shapes onto the others back.

Cuddling close together and staring into each others eyes.

"I am so glad that everyday I get to wake up to your face."

Playing with the others fingers.

Person A moving hair out of Person B's face

"Get in bed, you goof."

Drawing patterns on the others chest over their heart.

Hold each other close while listening to the storm outside.

"How'd I ever end up with a person as wonderful as you?" laughing "You say that every time!" "doesn't make it any less true."

Chuckling "We have to get up at some point."

Reaching over the other to turn off their alarm.

Falling asleep on top of the other.

"Nooo stay!" laughing "It's 10 in the morning!"

Waking up the other with a kiss.

Playing with the others hair.

"We should probably get ready." "Yup." "But we won't, will we?" "Nope."

[greenglowinspooks]

Ok guys consider this: DP fic where Danny and Wes run away together

Make no mistake, they still absolutely HATE each other. Wes has been trying to expose Danny’s identity since the beginning, and that hasn’t changed a bit since the GiW appeared.

Now, though, it makes a little bit more sense to Danny.

Wes is at his window, panting and shaking, and he is bleeding. The GiW, he explains, had been harassing him since the beginning. An hour ago, they got the warrant needed to take him into custody, and they went after him immediately. To add to that, they got the papers to go after one other person as well. Danny.

So now, they’re on the world’s worst road trip to Florida or Alaska or some other, equally far away state because Wes has an uncle there who he knows has a deep enough grudge against the government that he won’t sell them out for anything.

They hate each other, and desperately wish they could ditch each other, but Danny’s the only one who can actually keep their rustbucket bike (originally Wes’ brother’s, gifted to him after it started breaking down) working without dropping at least 2 grand on repairs, and Wes is the only one with a driver’s license.

Danny’s honestly surprised that Wes didn’t just sell him out. Wes told him that, quite frankly, he probably would have, had the GiW not attacked him as viciously as they did. He still hated Danny, of course, but he couldn’t live with himself if he just…left someone to get tortured like that.

Danny snaps that he knew the GiW would do that since the beginning, and if Wes had just listened to him—

In truth, he’s surprisingly touched. He’s never gonna tell Wes that, but still.

Basically just roadtrip of hell where Danny and Wes slowly get closer and start to understand each other, while simultaneously Jazz and Sam are working together to politically destroy the GiW, Tucker is running digital interference as much as possible (Danny, please stop showing your full face in front of security cameras, are you trying to give him a seizure), and the parents Fenton are beginning to think that they might’ve, just maybe, made a slight mistake in their understanding of Phantom.

[droptheprompt]

Tired/sleepy prompts please!

Here we go :)

Tired/sleepy prompts

A and B huddling on the couch together under a fluffy blanket after a long day, just enjoying the shared warmth and closeness.

A loves to watch B sleep since that's the only time B's features aren't shadowed by worries.

B refusing to get up in the morning because the sheets are so soft and A is too warm to let go.

A and B have to share a bed for a reason. During the night, A realises B rolled over to them and is mumbling how much they like A.

B knows A has trouble sleeping lately and decides to tell them a story to hopefully lull them to sleep.

Lazy morning cuddles when neither of them has to get up yet.

B coming home after a hard day at work and curling on A's lap.

A and B falling asleep in the blanket fort they built.

I hope these helped :) Have a great day!

[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || bed sharing

one forever won't be enough

synopsis: it's a habit they picked up from travelling together. every so often, astarion came to tav at night. it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even if he'd really rather not admit it. instead of lying in his old bunk, astarion chooses not to be alone.

an excerpt of "'cause my love (is mine, all mine)"

word count: 1203

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bed sharing, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, late night conversations, friends to lovers, song inspo: where do i begin by Egg

ao3: here

concept: bed sharing

At night, Astarion lies in his old bunk. It’s rough, grating, and it creaks every time he shifts, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t enter trance even if he tried. It’s telling that he would rather lay on a bedroll laid over hard rock than ‘his’ own bed, but the last time he laid in this bed, he was still a slave. Just Cazador’s spawn.

Somehow, it feels even emptier than back then. He doesn't have Petras sleeping in the top bunk, snoring loud enough for him to kick the mattress above. He doesn't have Dalyria in the bunk beside him, hiding a light underneath her sheets while she dove her research into the next topic. There isn't Leon in the corner, whispering sweet comforts to his little girl, Victoria. It’s too quiet all on his own.

Then, even with his new companions, he can't hear Gale patronizing Wyll about this or that kind of magic, he can't hear Karlach playing with Scratch or the Owlbear, and there is no occasional thump of Lae’zel’s late-night training. He had gotten used to all of it as some kind of white noise for the next dawn.

Besides, he thinks, he should get used to his nocturnal schedule again, so staying awake wouldn’t be too bad. It would keep the nightmares away, at least. He had enough of Cazador. He thinks of Tav, who he hopes is sleeping peacefully away.

In the dark, he has to confront the reality that he and Tav are worlds apart. He wonders if she’ll be able to adapt to this schedule.

The door to the Favoured Spawn room opens, the room that Tav had taken, with a quiet creak that only Astarion would hear. Then, the mattress dips, and a hesitant arm wraps around her waist and pulls Tav in as someone nestles in close.

“Mm… still awake, Star?” She mutters, though he’s more surprised to hear that she’s still awake.

“Yes.” Astarion replies in a whisper, because it feels like the night calls for whispers, even when the entire palace is empty.

It’s a habit they picked up from travelling together. Every so often, Astarion came to Tav to sleep. Tav knows that it first started after he first drank from her and she found herself exhausted enough to slip unconscious; but it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even though he’d really rather not admit it. Tav thought it would end after Astarion made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and she decided to be friends, rather than lovers. It seemed to be what he needed at the time, but she also knows that this—whatever this is, lying in bed together, in the dark, holding each other and whispering—isn’t really something friends do. Astarion has never had any friends, but even he suspects this is something that is beyond friendship.

But this isn’t sexual, either. He can't think of a single conquest who he had done this with because this felt too vulnerable. This felt like a different reality, reframing what it meant to find comfort in the dark.

With a sigh, Tav turns around to face Astarion. He sees her eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, and he brushes some hair out of her face. It’s never as awkward as it should be.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to face them.” Astarion whispers, truthful and defeated, because holding Tav in the darkness brings about a whole different world around him; one where he can tell Tav anything.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Star.” She says, and it does something to his chest when she whispers his nickname in that tone, with that softness of sleep tinging her voice.

Astarion huffs out a whisper of a laugh. “I do want to. They’re… something like family, after all. They’re the closest thing I have to love.”

“I love you,” she protests, her voice still quiet. He knows this is not what friends do. They are in bed holding each other, now declaring love for each other, in the comfort of darkness. Astarion has never had anyone he had been this intimate with, even in the throes of passion, and he feels that he should think more about what this means.

“Fine, then. They’re the closest thing, other than you.” He drawls affectionately, feeling a tug at his lips even as he rolls his eyes. “But still, they’re not like you. I’m not like you. I can’t be good like you, and I’m afraid they know that. It feels like I’ll have to solve all of this world’s problems to be worthy of forgiveness, and even then, they would be right not to give it to me. They might never forgive me.”

“Then they’d be fools, the lot of them.” She says, and though she still sounds asleep, her eyes look at him with a sincerity he knows. If there’s one consistency about Tav’s behaviour, it’s that she has no patience for fools, and he can’t help but laugh.

A silence passes through them for a moment. “Do you think I’m evil?”

“No.” She says. “Even I’m not nearly as good as you think I am. Out of the two of us, you’re far more special. You make me think anything is possible.”

It’s odd because he can imagine saying the exact same thing to her. He wonders if she was just reading his thoughts and saying the words out loud, and if it was some sort of byproduct left by the mind-reading tadpole. But then again, he can’t at all understand why she would think he was special, and if they did still have the tadpoles, he would wish to see himself through her eyes. He wants to see what she sees in him—this brave, dashing, kind, supportive, heroic man, capable of love and goodness.

He wonders what would happen if he kissed her. 

Not that he was particularly sexually attracted to her, though he admits that objectively, she is attractive. He has a working pair of eyes and a good sense of taste, after all. And honestly, he doesn’t even know if she’s attracted to him—he thinks she might be, because Astarion hadn’t met many people who weren’t, but she also never asked him for anything sexual. Even their first night together, he always wondered if she had truly wanted it, or if he was just taking advantage of their desperate, life-or-death situation. All her intimacy seemed strictly… well, not exactly platonic, but not sexual, either. And it didn’t feel quite romantic, either.

But he wonders what she would do. What might she see? What might she feel?

He compromises by resting the crown of his head on hers, and quietly, he whispers, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Of course I would.” She replies, sounding fond, before closing her eyes. He can tell that sleep is about to take her again as she sighs, “Don’t worry about who you think you’ve got to be. Just be Astarion. It’s good enough.”

Her breaths even out, and he does his best to match her, taking in the air she exhales. He runs fingers through her hair again as she drifts to sleep.

[shitouttabuck]

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[wexhappyxfew]

12. pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

For Annie and Brady please.

I love them soo much. And I adore your writing.

Also I hope you’re doing well and are having a great day :)

hello anon! thank you so much for submitting this prompt!! 🥹 it absolutely took a fairly cute direction in quite the circumstance (we’ll see what that means), so i hope you enjoy!! :) thank you for the love on annie and brady too! 😭 that’s so sweet!! they’re a joy to write so i hope this provides some goodness for them! YOU TOO ANON!!! i hope your day (and now weekend) is going wonderfully! please enjoy!!!

i found you again

(a/n): had a much longer version that this but….did not feel ready for that so, i shortened it up and made it work a bit more with the prompt and i liked how it came out so :) it is shorter than some of my other writings, but i hope to expand on it more in future postings haha! please enjoy!!

Annie slowly slid out of her bunk and moved through the tiny room towards Brady's bunk and got a look at his face, immediately shrinking a bit at the sight of him looking so safe, small and youthful in his sleep, reminding her of that last time they'd found each other side by side, the unknowing between the two of them, one of their last conversations face to face. And now….he was right there.

Annie reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a small shake. In almost an instant, he awoke and turned to her in the darkness and immediately reached towards her like he always used to do and grasped her arm. Always reaching.

"Hey, everything okay?" he whispered quietly, his voice a pin-drop in the dark.

"I can't get myself warm." she whispered back, the frustration behind her voice, flogged with a bit more emotion than she was going for and he immediately moved over the best he could in the cot and lifted his blanket up.

"Hop in." he whispered, a small smile on his face. Annie immediately sat on the edge and pulled herself into the bunk, wrapped in her own blanket and turned on her side, immediately becoming engulfed in Brady's chest, his bit of warmth and him. He let the rest of the blanket fall around her form and then he immediately wrapped his arm around her, pulling her shivering form to his own side, arm rubbing up and down, a bit of friction on her clothes, from him. Annie snuggled her head into his neck, where it seemed to be the warmest and let out a small sigh of relief at the bit of warmth that was finally entering her body.

"Better?" Brady whispered, warm breath tickling her neck, and she smiled and nestled closer and nodded.

"Much." she whispered, "Thank you." He smiled, and she shifted a bit, cuddling deeper, and then sighed at the immense amount of comfort that she hadn't felt in days, finally encircling her. Slowly, she brought up a hand out of the warmth of the blanket, and brought it to the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb over the bit of stubble on his cheek, the pleasant feel of him just right there, was comforting in it of itself. It was all she needed.

"So," Brady whispered, his voice somewhere next to her ear, "I never asked, after you were captured - what happened?" Annie shifted a bit and sat up, away from the warmth of his neck, and instead staring down at him, her thumb brushing his cheek, head resting on her hand, staring at those twinkling eyes.

"I was out of it for the most part," Annie whispered back, reaching up to brush some of his strands of hair from his face behind his ear, over and over, watching the sleepiness roll into his eyes, "between the knock to my head and the knee, the lack of food and water….I don't remember much aside from well…..the questioning. The staring." She met his gaze, watching quietly as he let his eyes linger over her face.

"What'd they ask you?" he whispered, his voice so low, all she really saw was his moving lips in the bleary darkness.

"Questions about everything. The 100th. About Birdie; newspaper clippings and such. About Buck and Bucky, about the Regensberg mission - my name was in the paper. Asked about home." Annie managed out, her eyes hardly leaving his own, "I didn't tell them anything. I told them my name, my number, my unit. That's it." Brady watched her and slowly brought up his free hand and brushed it against the bottom of her lip, lingering over the few scabs under her chin from the few scuffles with Germans and falls and punches.

"You?" she whispered back.

"The same." he whispered, "Lot of questions about the 100th - Buck especially. A few about you." She stared at him.

"I didn't let on a thing, though," he whispered, "I'd rather die than give away info about any one of us."

For a moment, they just stared at each other in a way that was far more intimate than anything else in the past few days, enough where her heart raced, and she suddenly felt consumed by his ever-present gaze on her own.

"Did they do anything to you?" he whispered, his thumb brushing her cheek again as her hands continued to prod his hair, "I swear to-", he looked at her, "Annie, if they laid a finger-"

"No, they didn't, not like that," she whispered, hand shaking against his face, "just shoves, a few…punches-"

"Punches?" Brady whispered, "Annie I-"

"John." she whispered, louder than she had wanted and quieted herself, shaking her head, "I'm fine, look-" her hand cupped his cheek, "I'm right here." He stared at her so longingly her stomach hurt, that yearning, that want, that desperate, reaching nature lingering between them.

"I know." Brady whispered, his hand grazing her neckline which was layered in blankets and clothing, "Just….if I ever see them doing anything, I'm jumpi-"

"John," Annie whispered, her voice soft as cream, "you don't have to do any of that now. It's just you and me. Right here." She reached out and took one of his hands, placing it on her chest where her heart was, hidden under skin and bone and overcoats. Brady watched her, like some sort of miracle and believed her. He let out a breath and swallowed.

Watching each other in their current circumstances was an art in it of itself - their hesitant, lingering gazes, the touches on one another's faces, the way her eyes evaded his, but always came back, their bodies so close, pressed against one another, but still distant.

Watching Brady now, he looked beyond exhausted, more than he ever did back at Thorpe Abbotts, and the more she continued that same, calming motion of brushing his strands of hair back, sometimes to settle behind his ear and sometimes to not, she watched his eyes grow more tired.

And in a sense, she got the idea it reminded him of when he was a child, when there was no war and his Ma probably tucked him in at night and brushed his hair gently until his eyes closed. And now, he was halfway across the world, in a P.O.W. camp.

"You need rest," she whispered softly, watching as he leaned a bit more into her touch as her fingers graced over his cheek, his eyes fighting to close, fighting the sleep, "it's okay." He watched her through half-open eyes and brought a hand to her neckline and watched her.

"I'm glad I found you again, Annie." he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do if I knew you'd gone down and didn't end up here." Annie stared at him, her world stilling around her and she couldn't help but lean forward and press a soft kiss to his forehead, before pulling back and cupping his cheek.

"Get some rest, okay?" she whispered, "I'll be right here." Brady watched her again and then nodded, that small smile on his face failing to disappear, as his eyes slides shut and his body finally seemed to relax.

You couldn't do that much here, you were always on guard, waiting for the next sound of explosions, or someone in the hallway, yelling, screaming.

Yet, here, he finally seemed to let go of all of that and sleep.

And until his breathing became deep and slow, she sat up, running a hand through his hair and letting him feel at home for once.

Even if that home was nowhere near here.

Even if home was this, right here.

[karasong]

sharing a bed trope for when they wake up

waking up to them holding hands and wondering how that even happened

OR one of them holding the other's hand really tightly in their sleep and they wake up super bashful

both of them opening their eyes at the same time to realise they're face to face and they scream and move away from each other (bonus points if one/both of them fall out of the bed)

one of them hogged the sheets all night and wake up to the other one shivering and grumpy af

somehow getting tangled in the sheets throughout the night so in the morning the two of them have to untie each other

“what happened to your face?” “you slapped me in your sleep”

having stacked a pillow wall in between each other when they went to sleep but it's completely disassembled by the morning

laughing over the other's bed hair and commenting on it all day

finding the other on the floor by morning and trying to piece together what exactly happened for them to be down there

somehow one of them have used the other's arm as a pillow and now they can't move without waking them up

“you're still here” “where else would i be?”

one of them making up an excuse to sleep in the same bed again the next night (the feeling is entirely mutual)

[devirnis]

7 for there was only one bed prompts (10 as a back up if someone has already requested 7...or you could do both if they spark joy :3)

hi molly <33333 YOU spark joy so you get both prompts as a special treat :3

It’s late by the time Eddie finally pulls up in front of his house. In the passenger seat beside him, Buck is still staring blankly out the window, showing no indication that he’s aware they’ve arrived at their destination.

He’s been like this since they left the hospital. Quiet, still. Despondent. 

“Left” is probably a generous way of putting it. After hours of keeping vigil in the hospital waiting room, Athena had practically forced them all into the parking lot after they got the news that Bobby’s surgery had gone well. The doctors were only cautiously optimistic, but their confidence was enough to have Athena sending them all home for a good night’s sleep and a change of clothes. She ordered them to look more presentable for when Bobby woke up the following day.

Eddie wishes he could summon some of Athena’s unshakeable faith – not just for Buck, but for himself as well.

When they’d arrived back at the station, Eddie had taken one look at Buck’s nearly catatonic state and made the executive decision that Buck was coming home with him. Buck hadn’t put up any fight when Eddie had taken his duffle bag and steered him to the truck; he’d barely acknowledged Eddie’s declaration that he’d be spending the night.

Now, Eddie reaches across the middle console to undo Buck’s seatbelt. The click of it releasing is deafening in the stifling silence of the truck. Buck flinches a bit at the noise, finally turning away from the window to look at Eddie.

“We’re here,” Eddie says.

Buck nods, still not speaking, and opens the passenger side door to get out. Eddie sighs and follows him.

The house is dark and still when they step inside. Eddie drops both their bags at the front door, happy to let that be a problem for tomorrow – today, whatever – before herding Buck to the kitchen. Neither of them have had anything to drink other than shitty hospital coffee since Bobby’s accident, so Eddie quickly fills two glasses with water. When he hands Buck a glass, Buck stares at it like he’s never seen water before in his life.

“Drink,” Eddie encourages. “We’re both probably dehydrated.” 

Buck brings the glass to his lips, his movements jerky and robotic. Any other day, Eddie would tease him for it, but he knows that’s the last thing Buck needs right now.

After taking a few sips, Buck suddenly looks around, like he’s just realized where he is. “Chris?” he asks. His voice is hoarse from screaming for Bobby earlier.

“At Jeremy’s,” Eddie says. “I called his moms earlier and asked if he could spend the night.”

He’d slipped away after the first hour of Bobby’s surgery to make the arrangements. He’d already planned on dragging Buck home with him, but he hadn’t wanted Buck to feel like he needed to keep it together for Chris if Bobby…

Buck nods, and then finishes his water. Eddie quickly downs his own glass and plucks Buck’s out of his loose grip, depositing them both in the sink.

“Come on,” Eddie says gently. “Let’s go to bed, grab a couple hours of sleep, and then we can be at the hospital bright and early. Athena can’t turn us away if we bring breakfast.”

He offers Buck a smile, which Buck half-heartedly returns. But he seems a little less lost now that Eddie’s promised to take him back to the hospital – back to Bobby – in the morning. Eddie wonders how he can casually offer for Buck to sleep in his bed tonight. He doesn’t particularly relish the idea of Buck spending the night alone on the couch, and, maybe a little selfishly, Eddie wants the company too. He’s been trying to hold it together for Buck’s sake – he’s good at that, being strong for others when he needs to be – but that doesn’t mean that seeing Bobby unconscious and bleeding on the stretcher hadn’t shaken him to his core.

Eddie steps around Buck and heads for the hallway. “Do you –?”

 “Can I join you?” Buck interrupts. “I just… I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

You never have to ask, Eddie wants to say, and then he takes in the image of Buck before him: he’s small, hunched in on himself, lower lip caught between his teeth, already half-turned away like he’s expecting Eddie to reject him, even though Buck only beat Eddie’s offer to share the bed by a couple of seconds.

Eddie quickly closes the distance between them and folds Buck into his arms. “If you think I’m letting you sleep on the couch after today, you’re insane.”

Buck laughs into his neck, a little wetly. “Sorry. I’m just really tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then.”

They take turns in the bathroom. When Eddie comes back into his room and sees Buck dressed in a pair of his old gym shorts and a threadbare t-shirt, something settles inside Eddie’s chest. It’s not how he wanted this to happen, but he can’t deny that having Buck here, in his bedroom, in his clothes, feels right in a way that he’s tired of ignoring. 

Eddie crawls under the covers first. He expects Buck to follow suit, but when he’s settled on his back, he sees Buck still hovering awkwardly beside the bed, like he’s not sure he’s actually allowed. 

“Buck, come on,” Eddie beckons him softly, lifting the sheets up.

Buck slowly climbs into the bed, settling on his side so he’s facing Eddie. Rolling over to mirror his position, Eddie can see that Buck’s eyes are wet, even in the darkness of the bedroom.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, opening his arms.

Buck chokes on a whimper, but doesn’t hesitate before burrowing into Eddie’s chest. Eddie holds him tightly as he shakes, tilting his head down to press his lips to Buck’s hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Buck lets out a trembling breath. Then he tips his chin up and covers Eddie’s mouth with his own.

Eddie freezes for half a second before he instinctively starts kissing back. Buck’s mouth is soft and warm, the feeling better than anything Eddie’s imagined. And oh how he’s imagined – for weeks, trying to figure out how to gauge if kissing might be something that Buck wants too.

Then Eddie’s brain catches up to what’s happening. 

Buck is seeking comfort and reassurance, and Eddie would do anything to grant him that, but he doesn’t want this to be only because Buck is worried about Bobby.

He disconnects their lips, as much as it pains him to do so. “Buck –”

Buck’s face falls. “Sorry,” Buck chokes out. “No, obviously, you don’t want – I don’t know what I was even thinking –”

He starts rolling away and fumbling with the sheets, like he’s going to get out of bed and exile himself to the couch. Eddie’s heart clenches for having inadvertently hurt Buck, even if he knows this is the right call. His hand shoots out to get a grip on Buck’s shoulder and reel him back in.

“Of course I want this,” Eddie says earnestly. Buck looks guarded, but he’s stopped actively trying to escape, at least. “I want you. But not – It’s late and we’re tired and I want to do it properly. Start us properly.”

“Us?” Buck repeats quietly.

“Yes, us.” Eddie manhandles Buck on to his side so Eddie can curl up behind him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Buck agrees, his voice a relieved exhale. 

He snuggles back against Eddie, and Eddie can’t help but press a kiss to the back of Buck’s neck. Buck sighs contentedly as he covers Eddie’s hand on his chest with his own, threading their fingers together.

“It’s going to be okay,” Eddie whispers against his skin. He can’t make any promises, but he knows: they’re together now, whatever happens. They’ll hold each other through it.

“Okay,” Buck says again, and then brings their joined hands up and kisses Eddie’s knuckles. “Thank you.”

I love you, Eddie thinks. He’ll say those words soon, but not tonight. Instead, he rests his forehead against the nape of Buck’s neck. “Any time.” What he really means is every time, all the time, for the rest of our lives. From the way Buck melts back against him, Eddie thinks he might be able to hear those words anyway.

(also on ao3)

[omo-my-gosh]

Overnight winter camping where the temperatures drop so low you can hardly feel your toes even with thermal socks on.

Sharing a tent in the middle of the woods, during the coldest night character wets in their sleeping bag.

They can't stay in wet clothes or a wet sleeping bag without freezing and there's no way to deal with it without waking up their tent mate.

The only option is to accept the humiliation and help (it's freezing and they're even more cold now that they're wet and stripped down..they probably need a hand dealing with it all). They have to quickly get changed and share the remaining dry sleeping bag for warmth.

[rockingrobin69]

Seriously, though

“Here,” with a giant heave, “just a little—c’mon, Potter,” pulling the arm slung around Draco’s shoulder tighter. “It’s just a bit further, you twat.”

Potter’s smile was smeared all across his face, unbearable at such a close distance. “You’re so strong,” he said, twattily. Draco resisted the urge to push him off.

“You’re making it so much harder than,” short on breath for laughing. “Come on, you big lug. There’s a warm bed waiting for you just the other side of this corridor.”

“How do you know it’s warm?” Potter asked. “Did you try it?”

“Of course. Nothing but the best at Chez Malfoy. See, if you were a normal house guest and not a silly goose—”

“Am not a goose,” indignantly. “Silly, maybe.”

Draco stopped them both halfway through the corridor. “Maybe?”

“Maybe. I’ll give you somewhat silly, on occasion.”

Eyebrow hiking: “On occasion.”

“And only somewhat.”

This grin-thing his face was trying to pull was achey around the corners. “You mean,” Draco said, “that cursing yourself with jelly-legs and getting your own flat flooded with patchouli was not an entirely silly thing to do. Only somewhat silly.”

“Certainly an occasion,” Potter said, and his eyes sparkled. “Thanks for having me, by the way.”

“Oh, sure. What else could one do when the Chosen Git wakes them up in the middle of the night in uproarious fits of laughter? It’s no problem, I mean,” when the smile on Potter’s face dimmed. “I’m happy to have you here. As long as you need.”

They both swallowed at the same time. It was quiet, middle of the night, just them here. Holding each other and standing very close. In his house coat, and his red-red cheeks, Draco felt miserably naked, too obvious.

Then Potter’s legs started twitching again, and he started laughing, again, this helpless, raw sound, and Draco was helpless too. To it, to him. With his shoulders and colourful socks and the strands of his hair that kept catching his eye.

“Here,” Draco realised he was saying, only after he brushed a few of those away. Gulped loudly. “Let’s—come on, let’s get you to that blasted bedroom.”

Potter echoed his swallow. His nervousness, for some reason. “What’s that door over there?” pointing at the nearest one.

“That one’s mine.”

“Oh.” Sucking in his bottom lip in a truly unfair display. “What if,” he started, shook his head, nodded, “wouldn’t it be easier if—”

“I’m not giving you my bed,” Draco heard himself say with pure shock, instead of, for example, “yes, of course, anything you’d like, forever actually.”

“I’m not asking you to, git. I meant, maybe we could share.”

“Share…” comprehension, rather than dawning, sank. “Share my bed?”

“God, you can be so thick,” and why did Potter sound fond? “Had to curse my own legs and still you continue to—”

“I’m the thick one, when you cursed your—wait, what?”

“Will you just,” laughing, “Malfoy, shut up, for the love of god, and take me to bed already?”

His heart splattered against his ribcage. “Take you to bed. Yes, I can do that.”

To the… guestroom, right? That’s what they were talking about.

“Malfoy,” again in that inexplicable tone, the one that went soft and low instead of—instead—“I was serious. About sharing. I’ve been serious about if for quite some time.”

The heat in his cheeks and the frenzy in his chest: “Yes?” meaning, really? Meaning, me?

“Yes.”

Melting a little, “It is closer. My bed, I mean. And, the sheets are clean.”

“Always prepared at Chez Malfoy.”

“Shut up, you absolute goose.” Nearly brave enough for a smile, tilting his head towards his room. Bursting when Potter, eyes twinkling, nodded.

He was taking the silly goose to bed. How… fortunate, really, that he opened the door. That Potter’s legs were still dancing, that the other, nearer guestroom for some reason didn’t come to mind. That Potter was serious, he said, had been for a while now, and that Draco was too, entirely too serious for him. Almost too serious to laugh when Potter’s right foot sent in a truly spectacular jig: almost.

They laughed together. Twats. Even the bedroom door laughed with them as it closed. Then the hinges of the bed as they gingerly climbed on. Then the birds in the morning, when they woke up, still holding each other’s hand.

(Hi, so, I might be doing a bit of flufftober? Grab a link to AO3 if you want to keep up with the sporadic posting schedule. Love and soft to us all).

Freely Given and Entirely True - Robin's 2023 flufftober collection

[cold1dead1eyes]

11. intimate whumper

whumpee wakes up to a heavy weight against their back. the blankets covering them are stifling, the room warm with sleep. whumper’s palm rests like an iron weight against their chest. badum badum badum. the fevered beat of whumpee’s heart slams against their ribcage.

“mmm… whumpee…” whumper mutters against the back of their neck and goosebumps break out across their skin. warm, wet breaths wash over them. whumpee stays sweaty and tense in whumper’s grip as they shuffle around in the bed, spooning whumpee to their chest.

“are you scared, sweetheart?” whumper’s voice is rough with sleep. their hand swipes over whumpee’s chest, dipping down to their stomach and sliding under their shirt. it’s innocuous; just a gentle stroking of their skin, but whumpee unconsciously cringes back from the touch. it only pushes them further into whumper’s arms.

“don’t worry, i’m going to take good care of you.” whumpee gasps when whumper’s other hand slips under their body to hug them closer. warm skin sticks to warm skin under the heat of the blankets. it would be comforting, if whumpee didn’t have proof on their body of just how dangerous whumper could be.

“i’ll always be there to stitch you back up.” whumper’s finger traces up to a half-healed, stitched scar under their ribs. whumpee freezes up. they stay exceptionally still as whumper plays with the frayed ends of the stitches, a dull pain emanating from their wound.

stroke, stroke, stroke. whumpee holds their breath. the intimacy of it worms under their skin and prickles at their bones. this is all wrong. all wrong. just a few hours ago, whumper was towering over whumpee, knife in hand, taking them apart—

“shh, you’re fine. you’re fine. go back to bed, baby.” whumper’s fingers keep drifting over the stitches. whumpee is too scared to put up a fight, and too tired to care. they stay still and wait for the gentle stroking on their abdomen to go still.

whumper sleeps like the dead. whumpee doesn’t so much as close their eyes, hyperaware of the monster pressed up against their skin.

prompt from @whumpay

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #984

The ‘there’s only one bed’ trope but whump.

Two characters collapsing onto the mattress - uncaring of their attire/the blankets that are still tucked in. 

The caretaker laying on a backpack as a pillow to get some sleep, while the whumpee is passed out across the mattress. 

The whumpee having no choice but to lay on the floor because the mattress is too soft/lumpy for their damaged back.

Tearing open plastic bags to protect the mattress from field surgery.

Leaving a tip for the housekeeping service as an apology for the mess. 

The caretaker hesitantly leaving for food/other necessities. 

The whole team, after rescuing the whumpee, lay on every inch of the double mattress as the whumpee doesn't want to be alone, and equally the team wants to make sure that the whumpee is okay/will pull through.

The caretaker waking up and wondering why the blanket feels damp - only to discover the whumpees stitches have been pulled/their bandage has been bled through/the whumpee failed to mention a severe injury. 

The whumpee waking everyone up from a nightmare and apologising profusely. Bonus points if this character has always done everything in their power to hide these episodes.

The whumpee anxious about sleeping around other people because of their frequent nightmares.

Huddling for warmth because the heater is broken. 

The AC is broken, and the whumpee is struggling through a fever - even the open window doesn’t help. 

Using the small soaps the hotel offers to clean up, and hissing through the sting of scented soaps on their wounds.

The whumpee asking the caretaker to stay, so they climb in next to them. 

The recently rescued whumpee having to be convinced they are safe; the caretaker does multiple sweeps of the room. Eventually they compromise by having the whumpee tucked into the caretakers side, and sleeping with the lights on. 

[amethystpath-writes]

Red Cheeks and Blue Ribbons

NOT A PR0MPT

“Headquarters sent out an email. It’s your birthday.”

Hero nodded. Yes, it was their birthday. Leader said it as though Hero didn’t know their own birth date. At least headquarters knew better than to send them the email on top of everyone else. ‘Hey, Hero! In case you forgot, it’s your very own birthday today!’ Hero would have chuckled if not for the confused look on Leader’s face as they began speaking.

“I usually don’t- um… I mean… We’re not supposed to-”

It was now that Hero realized there was a small box in Leader’s hands. And not just any box; it was a gift box- blue cardboard with a darker blue ribbon atop.

“It’s nothing big, but… you’re a good addition to the team. We’re closer, stronger, more vulnerable…” Leader trailed off.

Vulnerable was an interesting choice of words, but Hero shrugged it off with a hint of a smirk. They knew what Leader meant.

“I imagine informing you that your cheeks are going red would embarrass you further so I’ll say this instead: thank you for the gift.” Hero took the box from Leader’s clammy hands. “I’ll be sure to thank the team,” they said with a quick wink.

Before walking away, Hero added, “Allow yourself more confidence next time. You’re pretty cute when you fluster, but confidence is more my forte. Got it?”

Hero could have sworn they heard Leader swallow.

“I’ll- uh… yeah. Confident. More confident. No, I’ve always been confident.” Leader shook their head. “Happy birthday, Hero.” And they ducked their head as they strode down the hall, separating themself from the situation and their own embarrassment.

Leader wasn’t so messy with anyone else on the team. Hero managed a smile. They could get used to a flustered Leader if it came down to it.

(Banner by the lovely @creweemmaeec11 . Thank you, Crew <3)