𝕮𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖊 𝕾𝖒𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕴𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

Falling Awake | C.S.

[Fluff]
Inspired by Tarja's 'Falling Awake'

The first thing you registered was the pale light seeping through the curtains — that soft, muted gray that only existed in the earliest hours, when the world was still deciding whether it was night or morning. The second thing was Cobie's warmth, the solid, steady press of her body curled into yours, her arm draped across your stomach, fingers curled loosely against your side.

You were awake too early. That was nothing new.

For a while, you just lay there, your head turned slightly on the pillow, your eyes tracing the lines of her face. Her hair was a mess, stray dark strands stuck to her cheek and the pillowcase, her mouth slightly open, breathing soft and even. There was something painfully tender about seeing her like this — unguarded, completely at ease, so far removed from the confident, effortlessly charming woman everyone else knew.

Your fingers itched to touch her, but you didn't want to wake her — not yet. Instead, you let your gaze wander, drinking her in like you were memorizing her. The faint freckles on her nose, the way her lashes rested against her skin, the soft curve of her mouth, still swollen from kissing you half-asleep the night before.

She was beautiful, always had been, but in moments like this — stripped of red carpets, cameras, and the weight of being Cobie Smulders — she was something else entirely. Something softer. Something only you got to see.

And you wondered, not for the first time, how you got so lucky. How someone like her — brilliant, beautiful, patient to the point of madness — had chosen you. Chosen to stay, even after seeing all your jagged edges, your broken places, the weight you carried every day.

Your fingers drifted, almost without thinking, tracing the faint scar on your forearm. The one she'd kissed last night, her lips soft and reverent, her eyes so full of love it made you ache. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, blinking hard, but it didn't stop the sharp swell of emotion.

It had been a long road — and not always a pretty one — but somehow, you were still here. Still breathing. Still holding on.

And so was she.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the subtle shift of her breathing until she stirred, her brow creasing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. They were still heavy with sleep, but the second they found you, they softened, a slow smile tugging at her lips.

"Hey," she murmured, voice thick and raspy.

"Hey," you whispered back, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"What time is it?" she asked, but her arm was already tightening around you, her fingers slipping under your shirt to press against your bare skin.

"Too early," you said, your voice soft.

She hummed, eyes drifting shut again for a moment. "You okay?"

You meant to say yes — it was habit by now — but instead, what came out was, "Couldn't sleep."

She made a soft sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and then she was shifting, pulling you closer until your head rested against her chest, her fingers threading into your hair.

"Come here," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You went, melting into her, your arms curling around her waist, your face buried in the soft space between her neck and shoulder. Her skin was warm, faintly scented with sleep and the lingering traces of her perfume, and you breathed her in like she was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

"Too much in your head again?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against your scalp.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

"Okay," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I've got you."

It was such a simple thing — a promise she'd made a hundred times before — but this early, with the whole world still quiet, it felt bigger. Like a vow, an anchor, something you could hold onto when your own mind turned against you.

She didn't ask you to explain. She never did, not when you were like this. She just held you, her arms strong and steady, her touch as familiar as your own skin. And little by little, the tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by something softer, quieter.

You weren't okay — not all the way — but you were here. With her. And for now, that was enough.

After a while, she tipped your chin up, her lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it made your breath catch.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

And with her warmth surrounding you, her heartbeat under your palm, you finally believed her.

<3