there is a knife on the nightstand

Nice Try [ Bucky Barnes x OC - Reader ]

THIS IS A PART OF MY DAILY CHRISTMAS DRABBLE

Prompt : “YES I BOOBY-TRAPPED YOUR PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x OC

Genre : Good ol’ crack and fluff  |   Warning : none

Author’s Note : Thanks victoria for always proofreading my work and giving me this list of prompts lmao enjoy! :D

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

He was having a very nice dream. Everything was perfect and she looked so serene in her lovely white short dress. He let out a strangled gasp when she made her way towards him, eyes twinkling mischievously. She lightly traced her fingers down his chest and fuck he could see her breasts when he looked down at her and–

CRASH!

“FUCK!” Bucky’s eyes snapped open at the voice and loud clattering sound that followed. Ignoring the slight pounding of his head from being woken up, he quickly grabbed the knife on the nightstand and jumped out of his bed. It took him a good minute to realize what just happened and he let himself fall back into the bed when he heard her voice again.

“BUCKY YOU ASSHOLE. I’M GONNA USE YOUR METAL ARM AND SMACK YOU TO OBLIVION.” He huffed in amusement, bursting into full-blown laughter when she stormed into their bedroom with a flushed face and feathers covering her hair.

“Good morning, doll. You look beautiful,” he snickered, swiftly turning his body to the right side of the bed when she jumped on the bed and tried to smack his arm.

“I can’t believe you booby-trapped my presents!” She buried her face in the pillow and let out a childish whine. He raised his eyebrows and listened to her muffled rant, his right hand slowly went to pat her head.

“Don’t act sweet with me, James Buchanan Barnes.” She lifted her head to glare at him and pushed his hand away like a five year old before burying her face back into the pillow, clearly putting 100% effort in her tantrum. He rested his chin on his hand, eyes watching her in amusement.

“You know I have to.”

“We’ve been together for YEARS!”

“WHICH IS WHY I HAVE TO BOOBY-TRAPPED YOUR PRESENTS.” He replied. “You do this every fucking year.”

“Ugh I hate you so much,” she said, slowly turning her head to face him. It took everything in him not to kiss her pouty lips. Yeah, that’s not happening, he rolled his eyes before kissing her on the lips.

“Come on, you baby. I’ll bake you some cookies.”

“Peanut butter and chocolate?” her eyes brightened.

“Yes.” He offered his hand, which she eagerly took. “Stop trying to open your present before Christmas, doll.”

“M’kay.”

* * *

Three days, four hours, and twenty minutes. It took her that much time before she attempted to open her presents in the middle of the night. Again. Bucky rubbed his eyes and stood in front of the couch. It was 1 A.M and she managed to wake him up with her incredibly creative string of curses and a loud clattering noise. He would’ve been impressed if he wasn’t this sleepy.

“You broke our christmas tree.” he slowly said. “You fucking climbed that plastic tree.”

She mumbled something incoherent and hugged her knees to her chest, lips curled into a sheepish smile as she stared at him.

“I had to. You put that weird alarm thing around my presents.”

“It’s a fucking plastic tree.” Bucky repeated. “You, an adult woman, climbed a fucking plastic tree. What? Did you expect it not to break or something, doll?” He finally looked at her. She was wearing his favorite shirt, hair messily tied into a ponytail and he knew she was going to sport a nasty bruise on her knees by the way she moved. He let out another huff when he noticed the tear on the side of the shirt.

“I don’t know how I could keep up with you,” he sighed, jogging back to the bedroom to grab the first aid kit.

“It hurts, Bucky.” Bucky rolled his eyes and gently dabbed the ointment on her bruising knees.

“I told you not to.”

“You said, ‘nice try, babe. You won’t be able to get past the booby trap’,” she pointed out, grinning when he shot her a glare.

“That means you won’t be able to get past it. It’s not a challenge.”

She shrugged her shoulders before leaning back to the couch. “Same thing.”

* * *

“GODDAMMIT!”

Bucky bit his lips and closed his eyes, his body shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter.

“I’M KILLING YOU FOR REAL THIS TIME, YOU LITTLE SHIT.”

“ONE DAY. IT TOOK YOU ONE DAY TO BREAK YOUR PROMISE.” He hollered back, jumping out of the bed just in time before she tackled him.

Thoughts?

Sorry, I won’t be tagging anyone since this will come out everyday! :D

I perhaps love too much and too easily. My heart is at stake. Drive a twisting, turning knife through my heart. I cannot bear this pain any longer.

Do not think too much of the dark, nor the light:

In the daylight, you find your heart beating excruciatingly fast, much too fast and it cannot be contained within such a tight rib-cage. Throw away the corset and loosen your breath. Inhale quickly, taste the rosebud left from your lover.

In the moonlight, your face is laden with mud-and-mascara streaked tears. Wipe your face, siren, and think of a new song to sing in the morn’. I know the ache of a lost sinful love. It is wrenching, painful, trodden with despair. It is the ache, of a painful love.

Take away the knife on your nightstand and, instead, replace it with a lone off-white rose. The scent will bring your mind to clarity and your sinful lust to purity. Pray upon your transgressions, and your burden shall be lifted. Your love will soon return, for he is just as wretched as you.

—  “A Fascination: Painful Love” by Angel Bloom
Trapped

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Pairing: past John x Reader
Word count: 1,117
Warnings: Swearing, arguing

Part 8 of Unwanted


Hearing Alessa yell for you, you hurried out of the bathroom with the glass half full. Her eyes were trained on John, her small body looking even smaller in the large bed. You handed John the water and moved to her. She held onto your arm while staring at John, and you sighed. You pulled her into your lap so that she was facing your chest, and you were rubbing her back gently. John’s eyes fell at how she clung to you at the sight of him, although he understood. “De.” She yawned. Her small voice was like a knife to the gut as she asked for his eldest.

“You want Dean to get you back to sleep?” You asked softly, and she nodded. “Okay, let me text him.”

“Otay.” She muttered against your chest, her eyes closed.

You leaned over, getting your phone from the nightstand and pulled up Dean’s last text.

Dean? Alessa woke up. John’s here, and  she’s asking for you. I’m sorry. I know you probably want to go relax.

Hitting send, you hummed to her and rocked her gently. Your phone buzzed a couple minutes later.

Bring her over. She can stay with us tonight. And it’s no problem. We love the little twerp :)

Chuckling, you glanced at her in her unicorn pajamas. “You wanna have a sleepover with your big brothers tonight?” You smiled as her mood picked up. She pushed away, getting off your lap. “Get your bear, I know you can’t sleep without it.” Her tiny hand grabbed the furry stuffed animal before her bare feet ran to the door. You glanced at John. “I’ll be right back.” You said gently, knowing that the conversation to come would be very difficult.

“I’ll be here.” He sighed, sipping the water you had handed him as you walked out the door.

Keep reading

Tagged by @aprilshowers–mayflowers @berena-sapphic-angst-fest and @midlifelez

1) Five things you’ll find in my satchel (besides keys and phone):
- chapstick (Burt’s Bees - vanilla & pear)
- eyeglass flannel
- kindle
- granola bars
- swiss army knife

Lol - does that paint a clear enough picture of what kind of lesbian I am?  No?

2) Five things in my bedroom:
- dozens of button down oxford shirts, hung over various surfaces
- several pairs of Vans and a few suede chukkas
- my eyeglasses, occasionally, when they have fallen under the nightstand and I’m too blind to find them
- a bed that is too large for the size of the room
- stacks and stacks of books

3) Five things I’ve wanted to do in life:
- I’ve never been abroad :-(
- hike the Appalachian trail
- take a summer off to drive across America
- get locked in the Met overnight
- cross the divide between ‘reality’ and the fictional universe

4) Five things that make me happy:
- My family
- Writing (when it’s going well)
- Reading (always)
- Working in my shop
- Coffee

5) Five things I’m currently into:
- Berena :-)
- Suspension training
- One Day at a Time
- Gratitude
- Transcendentalism

6) Five things on my to-do list:
- Write
- Laundry (it never ends)
- Call my sisters - I’ve got 4 to keep up with!
- Order Kate Stewart/Osgood funkopops for my office
- More writing

7) Five things people may not know about me:

- I played slide trombone in a jazz band for many years
- When I was ten I jumped off a railway bridge to escape bullies
- My father and I both have mysterious/unexplained hearing loss
- I love my job (college counselor) but I’d love being a carpenter even more
- I’m extremely safety conscious and have a plan for just about every worst-case scenario (flood, terrorist attack, burglar, snake bite, etc.)


No pressure!  Tagging anyone who’s up for it

anonymous asked:

Can you do knife play with tj lane please?💖

tj would love trailing it down your jawline and slapping it against your tongue. and he’d hold it against your neck while he fucked you and rubbed your clit with it when you were getting closer to coming. he’d grab it from his nightstand and flick it open and you’d love it when he traced your ribs or your hipbones or had you lick up the blade. god and he’d probably lick the accidental slices he made on your body.

Getting out of  bed in the middle of the night, Remy casually opened the drawer of her nightstand, taking out the knife she knew she stored there in case of emergencies. Feeling as if she was in the middle of a dream, she left her room, creeping around the hallways, the knife low in her hand, as if she had picked up a trail and had decided to follow it, hunt whatever had caught her attention before it decided to kill her instead. Upon hearing the sound of footsteps coming from her left, Remy carefully slid closer to the wall and swiftly turned the corner, lashing out with her knife, intent on reaching her goal.

Shadow

Requested by Anonymous: Daryl saved the reader in the beginning and she’s been his shadow ever since and after they get to Alexandria they get closer, but then he gets distant for some reason and during an argument they kiss.

Shadow

“Daryl, where’s my knife?” You ask, throwing pillows off of the couch in search of the weapon.

“Did you check your room?” He asked.

“I did not.” You take the stairs two at a time and fling open the door to your room. Your knife was sitting on the nightstand where you had left it. “Of course.” You mutter, picking it up and sliding it into the sheath in your belt. “Found it!” You call down the stairs.

“Then let’s go, Shadow! All the game’ll be gone by the time we get out there!” Daryl called back up.

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes and rush down the hallway past Daryl’s room and past the open door to Sasha’s room. “Bye Sash!” You holler as you clump back down the stairs.

“Have fun, roomies!” She called back as she continued to get ready for her guard shift.

“OK, I’m ready.” You bounce into place next to Daryl in the front hallway.

“Finally.”

“Shut up.”

Daryl pulls open the front door, and you’re both surprised to see Spencer standing on the porch. “Oh, hey.” He says. “I was wondering if I could talk to Y/N?”

“Sure, what’s up?” You say.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you alone?” He eyed Daryl with a look that said ‘get lost’.

“Um, sure. Daryl do you just want to wait for me by your bike?” Daryl shrugged and walked off the porch in the direction of his motorcycle. “What’s up, Spencer?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime?” Spencer said quickly. “I could make us dinner or something?”

“Oh.” You say quietly. “I uh–”

“Unless you already have a boyfriend.” Spencer looked over his shoulder at Daryl. “In which case I’m sorry to put you on the spot.”

“Oh, no, Daryl’s not my boyfriend.” You say. “He’s just a close friend.”

“Huh.” Spencer said.

“What?”

“It’s just that you guys go everywhere together.”

“He saved my life when we first met, and I kind of glommed onto his side after that.” You laugh. “The other group members have started calling me Shadow. But, no, we’re just friends. Daryl’s like a brother to me.”

“In that case, how about dinner tomorrow night?”

You think about it for a few minutes. “Sure. That sounds nice.” You wave goodbye to Spencer as you head down the front steps of the porch and over to where Daryl was propped against the bike in the street. “OK, now I’m really ready.” Daryl just grunted and swung himself onto the bike. “You good?” You ask.

“Fine.” He said brusquely.

You climb onto the back of the bike as he starts the engine. Alright, let him be in a mood. It wasn’t going to spoil your nice morning.

—–

“You sure you’re OK?” You ask when you get back to the house later that afternoon. Daryl had been silent and surly the whole time you’d been out hunting, and it was a first for him not to compliment you on a kill. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Fine.” He said again, taking your string of squirrels and heading in the direction of the store house; he and Olivia were going to preserve the meat for winter.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.” You mumble. “Be in a mood.”

You decide to go over to Rick’s and see if Carl was in and if he wanted to play cards. You knock on the door and Rick answers almost immediately. “Hey, Shadow!” He smiles. “Where’s Daryl?”

You shrug. “He’s in a sour mood. I don’t think he wants me around.”

“That’s weird.” Rick says.

“It’s whatever.” You wave a hand dismissively. “He’ll get over himself.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if Carl was home? I want someone to play cards with.”

Rick smiled. “C’mon in.”

—–

Daryl still wasn’t talking to you the next day, or the day after that–which was a shame because your ‘date’ with Spencer was a trainwreck and you wanted to tell him about it. You saw less and less of him throughout the week, and by the time the weekend rolled around, you hadn’t seen him at all for two days. “Have you seen Daryl?” You ask Sasha as she comes down the stairs to grab breakfast before watch duty.

“Not for a few days. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping track of him, Shadow?” She smiles.

You shake your head. “He won’t talk to me. He hasn’t talked to me all week, and he’s usually gone before I get a chance to ask him where he’s going or tag along.” You frown. “It’s weird.”

“He’s probably just processing something.” Sasha said, grabbing an apple and a protein bar out of the kitchen and slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “He might’ve seen something that upset him, or maybe he’s taking this opportunity to process his grief over some of the more recent deaths.” Sasha shrugged.

“Maybe.” You weren’t convinced. Just then, Daryl came in through the front door and started walking up the stairs. Sasha waved you goodbye and slipped out the door to go to work. “Daryl, wait up.” You say, launching yourself off the couch and up the stairs. Daryl didn’t slow down. He beat you to his room and snapped the door shut in your face. “What the fuck is your problem?!” You yell through the wood, pounding on it with your fist. It was silent and you try the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked. You push into the room. “Huh?! What did I do to you?”

Daryl was lying on his back on the bed, one arm slung over his eyes and ignoring you. You reach down and grab a bundle of his clothes off of the floor. “I’m talking to you!” You chuck a wadded-up shirt at him. He doesn’t even flinch. “You asshole!” You throw a pair of jeans at him. Still no movement. Finally, you drop the clothes and pick up the quiver filled with spare arrows that was leaning against the wall next to you. “Fine.” You say, pulling one out of the protective casing. “Then I’m going to start breaking arrows until you talk to me.”

Daryl still didn’t move, so you bring your knee up and break the arrow over it with a sickening crack. Then, Daryl is flying off the bed in your direction. He grabs your wrist and squeezes tight, shaking you harder than you expected. “Knock that shit off, Y/N!”

You were shocked. Not just by the fact that he was yelling at and hurting you, but by the fact that he’d called you by your real name. He hadn’t done that since the prison. “Then talk to me!” You yell back, trying to get yourself out of his iron grip. “And let go. You’re hurting me.”

He dropped your wrist and you stood there rubbing the sore appendage as Daryl paced around the room. You were certain there would be a bruise there tomorrow, but it was not your major concern right now. “What did I do to you?” You ask. “What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?”

Daryl started to glare at you. “Maybe I just don’t like being followed around all the damn time! Ever think about that?”

“No, because you were fine with it up until a week ago.” You say, glaring right back at him.

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“Maybe if you had just said you wanted some space, rather than being a dick about it, we wouldn’t have to have this fight!” You were yelling again.

“We ain’t fightin.” Daryl said.

“The fuck you mean we’re not fighting?” You say, a little shocked. “We’re yelling at each other, I broke some shit, and you injured me!” You hold up your wrist where a soft purple tone was starting to come through. “I’d call that a fuckin fight.” You stared each other down for a little while before you say, “What do you want from me?”

Without warning, Daryl rushed forward and smashes his lips against yours. Pinning you to the wall, he continues to kiss you in rushed, passionate intervals. Then, he steps back, looking horrified at himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… I know you’re with Spencer, I just…”

You start to laugh. All the adrenaline from the fight before was gone, and all that was left was the shock and hilarity of what the whole thing had been about. “Oh, god, is that why you were giving me the cold shoulder?” You laugh again. “Cause you were jealous?”

Daryl doesn’t say anything. You close the space between you and take his hand in your good one. “My date with Spencer was a trainwreck.” You giggle. “I wanted to tell you about it, but you weren’t talking to me. He and I are definitely not together.”

Daryl meets your eyes now. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You bring his hand up and kiss the back of it. “If I’m being honest, I’d much rather be with you.”

“You don’t think of me as a brother?”

You shrug. “I think of you as a friend. My best friend. And there’s no one I’d love to be with more than my best friend.” You stood on your tiptoes in order to close the gap between your faces, and give him another small, light kiss. “I love you, Daryl.”

“I love you, too, Shadow.”

—–

[Masterlist]

When you kiss her in my dreams
my face turns the color of hospital sheets.
You wouldn’t know
because I sleep alone.
The moments I need you most you’re on lunch break
in the cafeteria on the floor above the emergency room.
No
I don’t want to talk about it
they can lay one thousand mugshots out on my nightstand but
I won’t turn you in for doing this.
You stole my heart but gave it back
you cut me out with your knife collection you did it so cleanly they thought a surgeon did it
but you’re just a custodian who faints at the sight of blood
You cover your tracks so well
with bleach and windex
these windows are so clear.
—  But I can still hear the sirens.
Just Breathe

Request: Hi! I saw you asking for requests so if you want, could you maybe write one where the reader has telekinetic abilities (but doesn’t know) and one night she has a bad panic attack and things get out of control and Dean has to calm her down so she doesn’t hurt herself or him. Please and thank you! Ps it’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it :)

——————————————————

/Whoosh/. Something flew past Dean’s face, startling him awake in time to hear the pound of a book hitting the bedroom wall. Jolting up out of bed, he grabbed the knife he kept in his nightstand drawer, searching the dark room. Glancing to the bed, he could see you stir quietly, turning over on your side, still fast asleep. Tip-toeing to the foot of the bed, Dean nearly he the deck as another object whizzed by his head, just barely missing the tip of his nose. A lampshade clattered to the floor, falling to pieces as it shattered on the hard floor. Darting to the other side of the room, Dean searched desperately for the cause of the chaos as you turned again in your sleep, fidgeting beneath the covers. Two more objects soared across the room and Dean sank to the floor, ducking for cover.

“(Y/N), wake up!” He began crawling over to you as more and more objects flew off of shelves and out of cabinets without warning.

You tossed and turned, muttering furious curses to yourself as your breathing became dangerously shallow.

“(Y/N)?” Dean’s voice piqued with worry and he dashed to your side, dodging numerous objects to crouch beside you.

Your body seized up, locking into some semblance of the fetal position as you continued to fidget, rocking haphazardly in any given direction. Breathing became almost impossible, coming only in waves as you gasped now and then, sucking in what air you could in between the harsh panting bouts. Loose weapons now swirled dangerously around the small space, threatening to strike either on of you at any moment.

“(Y/N)!” Dean gripped you desperately as the frenzy crescendoed, trying wake your from your nightmare.

You gasped as you awoke and everything fell to the floor in one loud crash. Dean’s mouth hung open in a mixture of shock and concern.

“Dean?” You sat up, surveying your surroundings. “What happened?” Your breath hitched as you felt the anxiety setting in again. A chair slid across the floor, causing you to jump. The books began levitating again, hovering just a few inches off the ground, but your eyes were locked were locked with Dean’s and you remained unaware of the phenomenon.

“Baby, stay calm. I know this sounds crazy,” Taking both of your hands in his, Dean pulled you close to his chest as he sat beside you in bed. “But I think you’re moving things with your mind, so I think it’s best we keep you calm, okay? It was just a bad dream, baby. I’m right here and everything’s fine.” He stroked your hair gently, kissing your forehead.

“Bu-but it was so real..I woke up and you were gone.” A sob heaved in your chest and the tears began to fall. The books rose higher, a few whizzed around again as your breathing became unsteady.

“Ssh, baby, I would never leave you. You know that.” Dean tucked your chin in between his thumb and index finger, lifting your face to search your eyes. “I love you, (Y/N). Nothing’s going to change that and nothing is going to push me away. I promise. Just stay calm, okay? I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you and I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here. For good.” His soft smile touched his eyes and they radiated love and acceptance. You felt safer and your breathing slow, returning to a more normal rhythm. The atmosphere changed and the books fell to the floor again, this time remaining still. Dean wiped the lingering tears from your cheeks, kissing away one from the corner of your eye.

“Just breathe.” He cooed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Everything’s all right.”

You laid your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you took a deep, cleansing breath. Relief surged through you as you felt your lungs return to normal and the dread knotted up in your stomach subsided. The carelessly strewn objects rose slowly and carefully returned to their proper places. Dean watched in amazement as he rubbed your back? Allowing you to fall asleep against his chest as he sat there, awestruck.

“Just breathe..” He repeated quietly before kissing your temple gingerly.

/Ash\

Goodnight

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: none. PURE FLUFF

Alrighty. Please be gentle, this is kinda my first fanfic EVER! I can totally do requests if that’s a thing that anyone so desires. Feel free to shoot me an ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 775

You heard the front door of the motel room creak open and your first instinct was to reach for the long knife tucked under your pillow. Hearing the two brothers quiet bickering and the shuffle of boots you relaxed. You cracked an eye open and saw that the soft, red hazy glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand read that it was just shy of 3 am.

The boys had gone out to finish off a salt and burn a few hours ago and had left you behind in the quiet motel room. You had volunteered to stay behind and see if you could scrounge up a new case. After ordering a pizza and diving into the local obits, the three (or was it four?) beers were starting to catch up to you. You had planned to wait up for them to see if there were any injuries that needed patching up (because let’s be honest, there usually were) but the alcohol and chronic lack of sleep caught up to you. You changed into one of Dean’s plain grey t-shirts and a pair of black boxers that fit you like shorts and climbed into one of the crappy motel beds.

When you had first met up with the Winchesters, there was a very platonic nature to your relationship, but since you had literally experienced hell with them, you had grown very attached to Dean. There were no labels that were attached to your relationship but the three of you had a silent understanding regarding your feelings for the eldest Winchester.

You had started off sharing a bed with Sam, since Dean had been a tad intimidating when you had first met. You quickly abandoned that idea, since sleeping with Sam meant waking up early in an awkward tangle of limbs that was usually pretty uncomfortable. Dean was more your style. You had fell into a natural rhythm and you both just knew when something was bothering the other. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you could hear Sam softly set their duffle bags on the kitchen table. Dean groaned and made his way to the bathroom for a shower, after pawing around in his bag for a change of clothes. Sam sat heavily on his bed, toed off his boots and promptly rolled onto his side. Within a few minutes you could hear heavy breathing and you knew that he was out cold. You were pretty surprised that Sam hadn’t deployed his rock-paper-scissors tactic to fight for the shower. It must have been a pretty rough hunt if neat-freak Sam had given up the first shower for sleep.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and you felt the rush of steamy air from across the room. Dean padded over to your bed and slid in next to you. The warmth radiating off of his body was welcome after the chill of the drafty motel room. Your back was to him and he fit himself snugly behind you, like two puzzle pieces made for each other. He slung a hand over your hips and nestled his head into your neck. His damp hair dripped down your neck and made you shiver and you knew your cover was blown. Dean chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. You flipped over and peered into his green eyes that somehow still managed to sparkle with mischief in the dark.

“Did I wake you?”

“Nah. I heard you when you came in.”

You smiled and laid your head against his chest. He smelled like his spicy shower gel, leather and whiskey. You guessed that he had probably shared a flask with Sam in the Impala after the hunt.

“How’d it go?”

Your gaze wandered his face and you saw that there was a new bruise blossoming across his cheekbone and a cut above his eyebrow that was held together with a Medi-Strip. You tried not to let a flash of concern show across your face, because you knew that Dean could handle himself and God knows that a Winchester should never ask for help, but you still worried nonetheless. He must have saw something in your eyes because he quickly kissed your forehead and muttered: “You know I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point, D.” You shut your eyes and sleepily wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed. He looked a little surprised but welcomed the sudden affection. You laid your head on his chest once more and your breathing quickly evened out. Dean looked down are you and smiled. He kissed you on the cheek once more and settled back in the pillow and sighed deeply.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Russian Roulette || Addison & Dmitri

Addison heard the glass break, and she was pissed. She’d been on edge ever since the funeral was over. Something about how everyone watched Dmitri and his father, something about how everyone’s tune changed just after his mother passed. Her eyes went straight to the sound of glass, and she pulled the knife off the nightstand in a flash. Two figures were moving, and Addison didn’t bother the figure this out before acting. Americans, always shooting first and asking questions later if needed. 

The men were experts, and it’d been a long time since she’d fought anyone at this level. One of their knives dragged across her back, and she shrieked. Finally slicing a throat and breaking a neck after a ridiculous amount of effort, she felt her rage boil over. Dmitri had set her up. How did she know this? The minute she stepped off the plane, she knew something was going to go wrong. If she wasn’t so angry, she’d have a broken heart. He was her closest friend, taken a knife for her.

She charged into Dmitri’s room ready for a fight. “You massive piece of shit!” she bellowed, running toward his bed. “You fucking asshole! I trusted you!” Her back stung, but she didn’t care. She ran to jump on his bed, her fist flying toward his face.