#And I finished my meds and then my throat SWELLED UP AGAIN

[ace-and-ranty]

Third day in a row with a swollen throat...... I don't feel anything else, no malaise, no fever, nothing to say I'm sick, except I've taken like, three ibuprofen and my throat keeps swelling back up. WHAT is happening.

[shameful-sinful-sensual-sex]

Don’t pull his hair…

Pulling his hair is a no no. That’s the number one rule. He’s tender headed, he gets headaches easily, and it’s just downright annoying. Rational and reasonable boundary.

The problem is how much I love to cross boundaries sometimes. Because I like the effort it takes to drive his emotions. It’s a fun little game for me.

He’s in the other room watching tv, trying to relax from a hard day of work. Sitting on the couch with his feet up. I could just behave nicely and lay on top of him. But I wanna act like I don’t know any better. Just so I can see what happens.

I walk into the room and hover over him while biting my lower lip. He smirks because he can feel me watching him.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Nothing. I’m just standing here.”

“You’re too quiet and I don’t like that. Talk to me.”

“I want my sodas.”

“No sodas. You know you’re supposed to drink water first.”

“Then I want a snack.”

“Did you eat real food?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, but you got to, to stay healthy.”

“I don’t care about that…” I pout under my breath.

“Aye… careful with that tone.” He says sternly.

“Never mind.” I try to walk away but he sits up, pulls me by my hand to sit on his lap, and holds my waist, massaging my hips.

“Alright. Why you got an attitude, baby?”

“I don’t. I’m just thirsty.”

“Are you feeling cranky? Do you want to talk about your day?”

“I want you to stop trying to tell me what to do.” I roll my eyes.

“Stop being disrespectful.” He says with tried patience. “I’m warning you,”

I cut him off mid threat to grab three of his locs in my fist and yank with a tiny bit of might. I don’t want to hurt him. I just wanna see what happens.

He is stunned with slight shock and rising irritation. “Why would you do that?”

“Because… I don’t know.” I giggled, failing to register any consequence.

“Okay. You right. I don’t know either. But you getting on my nerves right now and we gonna have to handle that.”

“Oh what, you mad at me?”

“I’m fine. Are you mad at me?”

“Why you say that?”

“Because you just,”

I raised my hand swiftly to repeat the same annoying action, but he was faster than me, catching my hand inches away from his locs. My smile grows wider as my amusement swells with the moment.

But he doesn’t get the joke. I try again and he catches me with his other hand. I’m now restrained. And laughing at apparently the funniest joke in the world. I resist him multiple times, pulling an arm away, one at a time, only to get recaptured within milliseconds of another attempt.

“Let me go!” I laugh til I’m lightheaded. Still restrained with my arms crossed.

“You done? I’m trying to watch my show, babe.”

“I don’t know.”

“Mhm. Well I guess we just gonna sit like this then. I got all night.”

“So do I!”

“No, you’re gonna take your meds and go to bed. You’re doing too much,” his breath hitched in his throat when he felt the warm, sticky, wet movements over his thigh. “Oh, you nasty… don’t start something you can’t finish.” He licks his lips and looks me up and down through hooded eyes. Tipsy on my influence. Just how I wanted him.

He lifts up my big shirt and sees I’m not wearing any underwear. I smirk as my breath is catching in my moans. I want him so bad. I need him. He’s all mine…

He leans forward and whispers commands calmly in my ear, “Get off me, and assume the first position.”

I nervously remove myself from his leg and sit on my knees in front of him at his feet. I bow my head with my palms down on my thighs. The vibrations in his low, watery voice went smoothly through my throbbing folds.

He stands up from the couch and drops his shorts to the ground. He looks down at me, softly strokes my curly afro hair. “You ready for it?”

“I want it so bad…” I beg.

“Go ahead and eat, baby.”

I lift up on my knees, facing his low hanging diamond hard cock. I kiss the tip with a peck and escalate to kissing along the shaft. I kiss the tip again and push the dick into my mouth, savoring his natural fresh shower taste, and Shea butter, woodsy scent. I licked my tongue around and along his dick until I finally pushed it to the back of my throat.

He groans through a bitten lower lip, looking down as his pet goes to work, stroking my soft curls and caressing my cheeks. “Good job. You can take it. Take all of it, there you go.” He pushes deeper down my throat and I almost choke. He thrusts in and out of my mouth and the floor is simultaneously a puddle of my gushing, needy pussy.

“Mmmmggh… mmmmmgh” I moans through his thrust. My clit is pulsing so bad it hurts at this point, but I can’t touch myself without permission. I want to cause trouble, but I don’t want to get into trouble…

The sticky fluid runs down my thighs and gets on his socks. He speeds up his thrusts, holding the back of my head with a slight forceful grip. I’m almost scared I can’t handle it, tears forming at my eyes, but I wrap both hands around his beautiful black dick, and I twist and pump while sucking hard and licking all around his tip, spit dripping off the sides of my mouth.

He fucks my pretty mouth faster and holds my head tighter. “You doing so good, baby, keep it up. Just a little longer.” He moans with his eyes rolled back and licks his lips. “I’m about to cum… get ready.”

I push his dick deeper into my throat, deep as I can so I don’t have to taste or feel the texture of the semen too much. I moan with tears running down my cheeks, lips red around his cock and swollen. With a few loud grunts, a few final strokes into my face, and a stressed release of breath, he spurts his hot white batter against the back of my throat, all of his immediately going down. He holds my head close until he’s completely done and the sensation calms down.

He pulls out of my mouth and pulls me off the floor to my feet, cupping my cheeks and kissing me softly, licking each other’s tongues and sucking each other’s lips so passionately. He pulls away and grins deviously at me. I am confused by his change in demeanor.

“You didn’t think I was done did you? Oh no, baby. I said I was gonna handle you and your little attitude. And I meant that.” He pulls me by my hand to the kitchen counter and orders me to, “Bend over. Hold your hands out. We’re gonna count to ten,”

“Wait, no…”

“And if you block me at any time, we’re gonna start over. You understand?”

“… Master… I’ll be good… I promise.”

“It’s too late for that baby. Hands out in front of you and count to ten.”

“Okay…” with my lip quivering and my pussy overflowing, I do as I’m told and assume the position.

He pulls his belt from his shorts and folds it, holding it by buckle and belt hole end.

“What color, baby?”

“Yellow… yellowish… lime green.” I couldn’t form the right thoughts but I knew how to answer. I want to keep going, but I’m getting overstimulated.

“Follow me, deep breaths, baby. In… and out. In… and out.” We both take a moment to regulate. “In… and out. In… and out. One more. In… and out.”

I feel much better now so I nod my head and say, “green.”

“Good.” He whips the belt against my ass and I cry out in shock and pain.

“One!” I struggle.

He does it again and part of the belt smacks my pussy lips. I moan through the pain. Gritting my teeth.

“Two!”

“Deep breaths baby.”

I follow his instructions and count.

The belt whips meanly.

“Three…!”

Leaving red marks, but no bruises.

“Four…!”

My legs nearly buckle from the stress.

“Five…”

Another whip across her thighs and vulnerable pussy.

“…Six… ahhh!”

I’m crying tears from the pain and stress, while gushing fluids all down my legs to the kitchen floor.

“Ahhhh, Seven…!”

It’s too much, and it feels so good. It’s overwhelming pressure and pleasure. It’s going to tear me apart and I can’t get enough!

“Eight! Fuck!”

I’m gonna cum… I want to cum… I need to cum!

“Nine…!”

The last whipping lands almost perfectly down the middle of my legs, my pussy is red, soaked, and pulsing with desire.

“Ten… oh god…”

I don’t know if I’m allowed to touch his marks yet so I decide not to out of respect. My mouth hangs agape with the tender sensations coursing through my body.

I barely have a moment to gather my senses though. Before I realize it, master grabs my hips and shoves his thick throbbing dick in my messy little hole. I cry out in pain and satisfaction, moaning with my eyes rolled back. I can’t register my own thoughts. My brains are being fuck away with his driving force.

He pounds me over the counter like he’s angry, frustrated, mad with me. I did this. I provoked him. Now he’s driven to fuck me in half. His thighs colliding with the back of my thighs. His abdomen smacking against my soft and rippling ass cheeks. His cock stuffing me full with each hit, knocking against my cervix, overstimulating my walls as I cream around the edges of his dick dripping all over my feet, his legs, and his socks. He’s a wild bull. A mad man drunk on the power of my pussy. This is all I need every day. Satisfying our every need. And making a mess of every surface.

He removes a hand from my hips and slaps my ass. I scream from shock and pleasure. “What I say about pulling my hair?”

“You said don’t do it!” I cry.

“What I say about snacks and sodas?”

“I only get them when I eat full healthy meals!”

“You gonna listen to me and behave like you supposed to?”

“Yes…!” I whine. He smacks my ass again

“You gonna do what I tell you to and act right?”

“Yes, Master, Yes!”

“Alright, I’m not gonna tell you again.” He pushes my head down, my cheek mushed against the countertop. He puts our hands on the counter at both sides of my head and locks our fingers, somehow fucking into me even harder. “Next time, you won’t get to cum for a week.”

I whine pathetically “Okay, I’m really sorry!”

“I’m about to cum again.” He thrusts deep and hard. Spurting semen deep inside me against my cervix, fucking me with it more, cum pouring out the sides and running down my legs. He pulls out and kneels for a moment to part my legs and take my entire clit into his mouth, sucking hard and pulsing his tongue against the rosy bud. My body quivers like a fragile dam as my liquids break loose, flowing free all over his face and the floor. I squirted all over his shirt until he covered it with his mouth and drank the rest, rubbing my clit with his hands.

He swallows, giving pats on my pussy, sending jolts through my sensitive bits, and stands up behind me. I’m worn down and exhausted. “Alright. Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” He leads me down the hall to the bathroom so we can start the aftercare for each other.

[wingsdreamt]

steeleidolon​:

After the almost unhinged snicker - wet and regrettable answer to Zack’s humor - Kunsel’s ‘Yes sir, thank you sir’ lacks Zack’s enthusiasm. It sounds a touch more like 'thabkoo shir’ thanks to the overrun of swelling. He’ll have to extend his gratitude to Fair, too, for preventing further damage to his face - his nose at least, because the door divider hardly looked like a friendly friend. Not that he is entirely certain he has a face still; it all feels like tenderized meat oozing down his jaw, his throat, soaking into the turtleneck of a uniform he was off to return.

So much for that.

Angeal nods to the two remanded to Doctor Halsey’s care, sparing them any further delay in treatment. He removes himself from the immediate med-tech bay, stepping out into the otherwise empty waiting area to do just that, flip-phone in hand.

Sit, she says. Kunsel sits without question or fight, willing his limbs to obey.

Up on the gurney, Kunsel follows Angeal’s withdrawal with his good eye, distraction as the technician examines. The knife gouged into his face was not as sharp as a scalpel, and nor was he still throughout the process. Jagged, the angle of sawing, delicate skin laid open in a clear attempt to flense the lid - the best bits for last. Blood mats into the flattened curls of his cowlick, drying flaked along the grown-out side of his head, and his right brow is bisected, still bleeding sluggishly by virtue of expression. Swelling has already taken hold, sealing his right eyelid shut.

He is a mess. Not so much of a mess that he does not hear Dr. Halsey or Zack; he isn’t deaf. Grasping for details helps–helps to keep him from freaking out. Bruised knuckles pale under pressure of his grasp on the side of the table, muscle corded in his arms too, brace against the swimming, watery feeling of ebbed adrenaline.

Between that and math and the ominous note of 'tests’ and 'it’s gonna scar,’ it makes him a little slow to respond. Better this than passing out. Probably.

”…Kunsel, no last name, came up through - through Skyreach.“ Breathe. "Um. 5E56-2D3D-4366. January 20th, 1976,” he answers, exerting effort to give shape to words without slurring and without moving his face - what’s left of it - too much.

“You, uh. You did… good work with my ears. You got- uh. You got a promotion? S'not surprising.” Is it the same doctor? He thinks so, but he could be mistaken, and if he is mistaken then maybe his rambling will be laughed at or outright dismissed. His lobes bear the evidence of tearing and intervention, pale silvery lines against the bronze of his cast, a story closed with chemical sutures as far as he is concerned. “Heh, guess if the eye’s done for I can get a materia replacement, huh?”

Numbness is sinking in. Better numbness than panic. The panic is there though. It’s there, a roiling undercurrent.

“What'cha think, man? Cybernetic or laser eye? Pew pew.”

He might fingergun if he weren’t white-knuckling the gurney edge.

“…grats on your promotion too, by the way. Sorry I might’ve fucked it up.”

"Good memory," Dr. Halsey notes without looking up as she records their details. One less area of concern for her. 

It is wartime. As a personal policy, she does not go out of her way to commit faces to memory. She is lucky if there is no cause for her to see her patients in the med-bay again. She is unlucky if she never has to see them again. 

Some memories stick whether she likes them or not.  

Like a Cosmo boy and his torn ear lobes. Cruelty visits the houses of those who are considered other without knocking and without kindness. 

Halsey finishes outlining the beginnings of her report and steps off to the side, where she opens a glass case on one of the nearby tables. Large potion ampoules lie in neat rows across a series of wire racks, and she pockets her tablet to grab two of them. One each for the two boys bleeding on her gurney.

Thus far, Zack has done his best to mind his own business (which doesn't mean much, all things considered). The earlier brawl has left him feeling pulpy like a smashed orange. He can see and feel the heat swimming beneath his skin where his cheek has started to puff up. Pulsing. His torso had absorbed most of the fists thrown his way, and moving anything except his head about the waist is a terrible mistake. Like hopping onto the gurney as opposed to pulling himself onto the edge. He is not faring so bad as his partner in crime, however, and Zack can only wince with sympathy as Kunsel struggles through reciting his information to Dr. Halsey. While Halsey was tapping away on her tablet, he cannot help having snuck a glance over when Kunsel brought up the topic of his ears. Just a split second, enough to see the fine scar lines stretching to the edge of delicate cartilage.  

He does not stare, but finds himself looking back when Kunsel turns to him after their caregiver has briefly moved away. “Huh?” 

Words, words are a thing. Zack squints through the pounding of his head. His face. His body. Everything. 

“Can’t one eye do both? Get your combos right and you could be like one of those characters from those arcade fighting games.” Zack motions with his hands some approximation of a fight stick controller, but it really just looks like he’s waving his fists around. Thoughtful, Zack turns his head towards the waiting area. “...I think we’re alright. I mean, he didn’t seem mad.” 

That counts for something, right? 

"Here. These potions should take some of the edge off. No major red flags as far as speech fluency and word finding, so that's a good sign. That leaves…" More to herself, she lists off the remaining tests, “Pronator drift, single leg stance, and grip strength.” Dr. Halsey stands back, waiting for them to empty their respective potions. “If everything after that looks good on the scans, you can leave today.” She points at Zack specifically when she says ‘you.’ “And you,” meaning Kunsel this time, “You need stitches.”

[jaimistoryteller]

Why Help is Needed 2.0

Hiya All

I hope you are all well. The vast majority of this will be under a read more simply cause it is long and covers the last few years for those who don’t know me and may wonder why I am in need of help so bloody often.

I want you all to know I appreciate all of it, whether it is share, donating, buying one of my books, commissions, or any other way it may be. Thank you all.

Jaimi

$0/902

as of 12/27/2022 10 pm

Post info on current situation

Share this post; my venmo, paypal, or cash app with a note about how it can help.

Paypal: cosmosbusinessventures@gmail .com or Paypal Me

Ko-Fi

venmo @JaimiST

Cash app $jaimist

GoFundMe: Help Jaimi Catch Up the Bills & Fix the Roof

Why 2.0? Cause half asleep me managed to delete it again. So gotta rebuild again.

Redo Timeline since I sort of deleted it, again, while half asleep. really shouldn't try cleaning my tumblr up while half asleep.

Still need to finish, but here’s a starting point!

Current Situation

Hiya All

Happy winter holidays or season, as you prefer.

It's been a long month between:

internet outages cause of snow storms

being trapped in the house cause a blizzard

sleeping more than I care to admit cause of a sinus infection, pain, and migraines [though I sometimes think it was just one long one with times it started to fade before something triggered it once more]

9 hour trip to hospital cause dad coughed so much it made his throat swell and caused breathing issues

vet appointments

doctors appointments

food stamps getting cut back for a few really stupid reasons

having to argue with the insurance multiple times

So, with all that being said, between mine and dad's account, we're $902 in the hole. While I am not as worried about his, he'll get his VA pension, I am worried about mine, as it came from getting meds, getting food, and paying a few bills. I need to get them out of the hole before the next round of bills, meds, and food is needs.

Any and all help would be appreciated! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

$0/902

Money Needed History

6/16/2022 - $721

6/1/2022 - $656 [got $144 of that]

6/25/2022 - $540 electric

7/14/2022 3 pm - $36/480

8/4/2022 - $472

8/31/2022 - $1147

9/6/2022 - $50 of 1147

9/22/2022 - $1796 

10/1/2022 - $1181

11/15/2022 - $981 of which $750 was thankfully covered

12/17/2022 - $232

12/27/2022 - $902 

House Stuff Needed

I may hate amazon, but right now I’ll deal with them if anyone wants to send stuff from the list:

Stressful Times Needs & Wish List

The list has two parts, or three, depending on how you look at it, as the first and second can technically be merged.

1. Necessities

Happybuy PEX Tubing Pipe 2 Rolls of 1/2 Inch X 100 Feet PEX Tubing

Gerber Plumbing Tub & Shower Set Three Handle Chrome

SharkBite 1/2 Inch Ball Valve, Push to Connect Brass Plumbing Fitting, Water Shut Off

Thomas & Betts B120AUPC 1G 20 CU in Zip Box W/N (Pack of 100) WIRE 12/3 NMWG 250' REEL

SOUTHWIRE COMPANY #28827455 250' 14/2 W/G NM Cable

14/2 UF-B Wire, Underground Feeder and Direct Earth Burial Cable (100ft)

I recently had to replace two of my three breaker boxes, which set me behind on bills. Why? Cause they had breakers melted and shorting, some that would be in the off position but still have power going through them, others that would say they were on and not have power. But the one melted to the breaker box? That was the really terrifying one. So I need to replace the wiring, as I discovered a lot of my wiring is 30+ years old. There are sections of my house without power. Hence the reason any help there is wonderful. 

Why not go to DHS and get an electrician to help? A couple of reasons - there is a lifetime limit on how much they will help with a house if you ain’t dying. I’d be expected to pay at least half, which cost more than me getting the stuff and doing it myself. Not a fan of strangers in my house and would be worrying my service dog [and probably them since Winston is a rottie] the entire time.

The other section of the necessities list is for plumbing stuff. My pipes are a disaster, I have exactly one working sink in the house, the kitchen sink. To turn my tub/shower on/off I have to go in Dad’s room and use the access panel on/off valves since the handles don’t actually turn off, and when I was going to take them apart to see if replacing the washer would do the trick, the wall started crumbling, so I was unable to actually do so.

2. Would be Nice

Highcraft ID234x50 Half Clamp J-Hook with Nail For Pex Tubing Pipe Support, 1/2 in, Black

Owens Corning "EcoTouch" PINK FIBERGLAS Insulation for Attic 15"x25', Unfaced

Pink Insulation Foam 1/2" Thick (6 sq ft)

(30) 1/2" Brass PEX Fittings 10 Each Elbow TEE Coupler Reducer Lead Free Crimp Cinch PEX GUY

Sterilite ClearView 3 Storage Drawer Organizer

Harris Diatomaceous Earth Food Grade, 5lb

Each would make my life easier in some way while I am working on things or to lower the bills long term.

3. Things to Help with Relaxing and Dealing with Stress

Derwent Colored Pencils, Drawing, Art, Metal Tin, Metallic, 12 Count (2305599)    

Black Widow Skin Tone Colored Pencils for Adult Coloring - Color Pencils for Portraits and Skintone Artists

Fuck This Shit: A Motivational Swear Word Coloring Book

You Fucking Got This : Motivational Swear Words Coloring Book

Butts, Bleps, and Beans Cat Coloring Book

Adult Coloring Book : 60 Stress Relieving Animals Designs

Mindfulness Coloring Book For Adults: Zen Coloring Book For Mindful People

Mandala Art

Mindfulness Coloring Book for Teens

Xyron Create-a-Sticker, 5", Sticker Maker, Machine, Permanent Adhesive

Markin Arts Stretched Canvas 8x10" 10 Pack Blank Canvas Board 

I try to spend a little bit of time every day coloring, partially cause my therapist suggested it after I mentioned it can be soothing, and partly because it gives me some time not looking at a computer screen and still relaxing.

Last but not least on the list is the Lowe's Gift Cards, they make it easy for me to go buy the supplies needed for the project I am most focused on or would be easiest. Considering my list doesn’t include any of the wood, screws,

History & Timeline

There is a lot of things that have happened to cause a large part of this current situation. This list has some but not all of the event that have happened in the last few years. If I covered all of it, we’d be here forever it feels like.

2009 July 7th - car accident that started my life downwards, I was passenger, had my ankle smashed requiring surgery. The reason I now have nerve damage.

2011 - had to have the metal that rebuilt my ankle removed as I developed an allergy to it after one of the screws shifted out of position, damaging a tendon and nerve as it did so. 

2012 December - stopped working full time, as I kept ending up in the hospital from simple injuries that could have been avoided if not always pushing through the pain. My right leg likes giving out cause the nerve damage.

2013 January to current - filed for disability, still fighting for it.

2018 February - my seventh concussion, screwed up my ability to use the computer or other digital devices for a long while.

2022 April 1 to June 14 - nine trips to the hospital, totaling 21 days in total, plus another 11 days dedicated to doctors visits. When not going back and forth to the doctors/hospitals was dealing with pain and sleeping a lot.

2022 June 18 to 21 - several days with migraine and migraine aura

2022 July - lots of storming, when not storming working on roof or sleeping off pain. 

2022 August & September - seven hospital trips, including one over night, and nine doctors appointments later, means I spent a lot of time exhausted when not working on finishing my damned roof up so it would not leak in the house. Two cats I hand nursed passed away as well, which was emotionally painful.

2022 October to November 14 - so much shit: doctor appointments, emergency vet appointment, dealing with migraines, power outage

2022 November 15 to December 10 - more migraines and pain, finally ended up at the clinic, had a major sinus infection, got put on antibiotics which knocked me out for the next week

2022 December 18 - spent my legal day at the hospital with dad after he coughed so much his throat started closing up. 

2022 December - that blizzard was fun

Proofs

[ID: screenshot of dad’s checking account -$571.83, my checking account -$211.90, and my savings -$119]

[ID: screenshot of my paypal $0]

[ironstarker]

Tony gets injured during a mission, and his Omega, peter is not happy about it.

Notes: It’s pretty angsty at first but I tried to give it a little extra fluff and warmth at the end for you. Sorry this took me over a year to finish 😅Here’s to hoping this means I finish the other drafts of prompts I got ages ago.

Warning(s): ABO Dynamics, Light Angst, Peter Cries ______________________________________________________________

It wasn’t coming together right.

Peter stared at his sad attempt at a nest with tears swimming in his eyes. After Tony had been called away on a mission, the omega was left to his own devices. The rest of the Avengers wouldn’t let him do a thing in his “condition” (even saying the word made him want to roll his eyes), least of all his alpha. Tony had taken his possessive jealousy to a new level the minute he’d found out Peter was carrying. So, while he went out and risked his neck, Peter was stuck at home, staring at the pathetic lump of pillows and balls of Tony’s shirts that he’d tried to make into a nest in the closet.

Why the closet?

It smelled the most of his alpha, and was small (well, smaller than the bedroom) enough that he felt safe. He missed his alpha, much as Peter didn’t want to admit it, and kept asking FRIDAY for updates on the man. She’d tell him things like, “He’s fine, Peter. The boss asks you to please not worry so much about him.” It didn’t help. Nothing helped, because his alpha was off risking his neck while Peter was left fidgeting over blankets and fussing about his broken nest.

He wanted to cry.

It was frustrating, the hormones that his bump was making him go through. The omega had never thought he’d be this kind of omega. Sure, Peter preened under his alpha’s eyes and he got a little too snippy and possessive when other omegas were around his mate, but the raging hormones were something else. Peter had bawled over a Dodo video of a baby bird being returned to its mama the other day. He’d cried so hard that he’d hyperventilated, and spurred FRIDAY into sending an emergency alert to Tony. When the alpha came home and found his omega in such a state, the man had all but lost his mind.

Needless to say, Peter loved being pregnant. He loved his bump and couldn’t wait to meet his baby and have her in his arms, but for the moment, he felt like a burden.

A burden who couldn’t even make a proper nest.

Before he knew it, Peter was crying again. He curled in on himself (as best he could, given he was approaching seven months along and the swell of his tummy got in the way every time he tried) and sat there near his nest, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He wanted his alpha. Peter sniffled, reaching for one of the shirts he’d strewn across the nest. It was an old Black Sabbath shirt of Tony’s, one that had seen plenty love itself and came with a smattering of tiny holes near the neck. The omega pushed his nose against the fabric and nuzzled it, stifling the sounds of his sobs in an effort to make sure FRIDAY wouldn’t alert Tony to his distress.

His senses and his hormones were supercharged. It had been hours since Tony (and a few of the others) had rushed off to fight some super powered sea monster. Truth be told, the reason that Peter was crying in the closet was because his alpha was gone, not because of his nest. He bit back a wail as he thought of his alpha, hating how Tony was so quick to rush into danger. Peter had tried to convince him.

“If I’m not allowed to go on missions, you shouldn’t be, either!”

“Baby, that’s ridiculous. I’m not pregnant.”

Peter had stared up at his alpha. They were tucked away together on the couch, Tony with one arm draped around him, his attention on a hologram that FRIDAY was projecting. Peter was nestled into his alpha’s side, desperate (he hated it, how needy the pregnancy was making him) for attention after his alpha had been away all day. The words stung. Peter bit his lip and looked down. It was archaic, the way that Tony treated him now that he was pregnant, and it made him want to scream about how unfair it was.

He hadn’t felt like such a child since before the whole Adrian Toomes incident.

“But alpha, you could get hurt,” Peter tried, and he gave a hopeful glance to Tony’s hand, hoping his fingers would stop moving where they hovered near the hologram.

Instead, Tony sighed. “Peter, this isn’t a discussion.”

“It should be! You’re just as important as I am — ”

“I’m going, Peter. End of discussion.”

In his mess of a nest, Peter whimpered as he remembered how his alpha used that tone on him. It wasn’t often Tony used the deep, alpha baritone to give him commands or bark at him. The thought of it now was enough to bring the boy to near tears. His bottom lip wobbled, and he sniffled and another wave of hiccuped sobs came over him. 

“Peter?”

The sound of a warm voice made his breath hitch in his throat. Boggled as his mind was, his first thought went to his alpha — to Tony. But the person standing in the doorway, disheveled and exhausted, was a different alpha. Steve Rogers must have come straight from the battlefield. He had flecks of shrapnel on his uniform, which looked tattered and soaked. His hair was wet, matted down onto his forehead, giving it a dirty blond look. Steve hesitated, and Peter knew it was because of the waves of distress he was letting loose, flooding the air of the bedroom.  “Where’s Tony?” Peter whispered.

Steve’s hesitation was all he needed to see to know something was wrong. “Don’t panic,” he started, looking like he wanted to step further into the room and then thinking better of it. “He’s in the med-bay right now, but was knocked unconscious by — ”

Peter did sit around and wait for Steve to tell him the rest. He was on his feet surprisingly fast (at least he had his spider dexterity when it counted), brushing past the alpha. He heard Steve calling after him, but Peter shook his head and didn’t wait around. If FRIDAY had granted Steve access to the private room he shared with Tony simply to relay the message in person, it had to be bad. All the way down to the med-bay, Peter thought about the breathing exercises he’d learned for delivery and practiced them in real time, one hand resting against the side of his belly. The elevator took him down without waiting around for Steve, and Peter’s toes wiggled impatiently against the floor as he waited for the doors to open. He looked down, realizing he’d forgotten to put on shoes.

When the elevator slid open and left him free to rush down the hall (he didn’t waddle, dammit), his feet sounded noisy to his own ears, like the slapping sound was echoing and bouncing all over the place. He was on hyper alert, his senses going haywire. But everything stopped when he saw his alpha through the glass, attached to all sorts of wires and machines. Dr. Cho was hovering over him, using a penlight to check the dilation of his pupils. Peter rushed into the room. She looked up at him, offering him a sympathetic smile. “Peter, there’s nothing to — ”

But he cut her off, letting out a noise that was somewhere between a wail and a croak as he said, “Alpha.”

Tony’s eyes flickered open. He offered Peter a lazy smile. “Hey there, omega-mine,” he said, holding his hand out for Peter to clutch as he neared the bed. “The doc here’s got me on the good stuff. Says I took a pretty serious knock to the head.” 

Peter’s attention was diverted briefly to the bandage wrapped around his alpha’s forehead. He pressed his lips together. He knew his alpha could sense the emotions rolling through him. Peter hadn’t even noticed Dr. Cho excuse herself. “You can’t keep doing this to us,” Peter whispered, letting go of Tony’s hand to cradle his bump. There were tears in his eyes again. They clung to his lashes, and his bottom lip quivered. Standing up to his alpha wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but this time it was too much. “I — I can’t stay here all the time, worried about you. You’re going to be the father to my pup Tony. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

The alpha blinked, looking caught off guard by the sudden emotion flitting across his mate’s face. “Of course it does,” he said, his voice quiet. “But you know the responsibility I have as Iron Man.”

Peter shook his head, squaring himself up a little, stubborn in his concern and hurt. He reeked of it, he knew. “Alpha, you’re hurt. You keep getting hurt. You have a responsibility to us. To our pup.” The tears that had built up spilled over his cheeks, creating fresh tracks. “Please,” he whimpered, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the alpha’s stare. Peter knew Tony was hurt. As an omega, he knew it was his job to care for his alpha. 

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, the tips of his fingers twitching, coaxing Peter towards him. “Come here. Omega-mine, look at me.” Once Peter did, the alpha met him with a tender expression. “Alpha’s sorry. Come lay with me?” Again, he wiggled his fingers.

Unable to resist, Peter scooted closer to the bed, until he could crawl into it with his alpha. He curled up against Tony’s side, his bump forcing the alpha to scoot over some so they both had enough room. His alpha kissed the crown of his head, where he knew Tony could breathe in the scent of his shampoo. His alpha always said it comforted him, and knowing that brought Peter peace. He settled down, soothed by his alpha’s presence and his warmth. “I built a nest,” Peter said after a few moments of silent cuddling. 

“Did you?” Tony sounded vaguely amused, like he already knew where this conversation was going. “How did it turn out this time?”

A long pause. “It — it went okay,” Peter said.

His alpha’s chest rumbled with a quiet laugh. “I’ll donate a few more pillows to the cause.” 

Peter smiled, giggling and nosing at his alpha’s jaw. “Thank you for the generosity, Mr. Stark.” He rubbed his hand over his belly, thoughtful. “I love you, alpha.”

“I love you, too.”

[quinncupine]

Yo imagine being in the general class of UA and being recovery girl’s little apprentice/intern and one of the 1A boys constantly getting hurt (whether its on purpose or accidentally ) as an excuse to come visit; I’m imagining todoroki or kaminari because I’m in a mood for those 2 and Deku wouldn’t need to an excuse 🙄

Ha, of course Deku wouldn't need an excuse!🙄 That's his second home at this point. I’ve never written for Kaminari before so this was a fun little experience! Sorry I’m answering this so late, I took a little writing break last week, but now I’m back on the grind! (Also I tried to keep this gender neutral as well!)

Word count: ~2.8K

Wanna request something?

Quinns Masterlist!

Midoriya, Kaminari, and Todoroki with Intern!Reader

Midoriya

"Midoriya, Midoriya, Midoriya," a soft voice sighed in mock exasperation. "How did I know I would find you here yet again."

Izuku flinched and looked up from his spot on the bed to see you casually leaning against the doorframe. That signature white lab coat draped over your form suited you perfectly. You looked like a real doctor standing there with the little clipboard tucked neatly into your waist and that warm smile radiating off you. To say that your smile had an effect on him was an understatement.

"Uh," he chuckled with a nervous smile, "sorry, I know I was just here yesterday."

"Yesterday? Midoriya, you've been here every day this week." Hopping off the door frame, you crossed your arms. "Do you wanna see me that bad?"

It was only a joke, but his face flushed a bright crimson at your words. Suddenly, every spot other than you seemed much more interesting to stare at, so he didn't catch that smirk lighting up your face as you stepped into the room.

A quick flip through the probably too many pages in his chart that he'd racked up this year alone, "So, what's it this time?"

"Just a sprained wrist," he held up said wrist. "I thought it was fine, but then it started to swell so I, uh, thought I should come here…just in case."

"And how did it happen?" you set the chart down and pulled the little wheeled stool to sit in front of him. With gentle fingers, you prodded the bruised skin.

At your touch, he stiffened. You were so close, eyes solely focused on his wrist. While you were examining him, he took the opportunity to stare at you with those giant green eyes of his, cataloging every inch of your face. When you began your internship with Recovery Girl, he was shocked the first time he walked in here to see you instead of the older woman. Not that he was complaining. You were way more amiable with him and although you didn't appreciate him injuring himself so much, he'd come to quite like these little meetings with just the two of you.

"Lucky for you, it's not too bad," you decided, looking up to meet his deer-eyed gaze. One which he promptly looked away from. "Ice it for twenty minutes a few times today and the swelling should go down. I'll get you a compression bandage." When you stood up to root through the doors for the bandage, you glanced back at him. "What'd you do, punch a brick wall?"

"Concrete actually," he stuttered out. "I missed my opponent, couldn't stop my follow-through in time."

The power he held always amazed you, but you were always the one to see the after-effects during training. He was strong to a point of recklessness. Something he really needed to work on. Finally finding the bandages, you walked back to your stool.

"Well, I hope you kicked that wall's ass then." Grabbing his hand, you locked eyes with him, "just don't overdo it too much. You only have two hands so try and keep them for at least a few more years yeah?"

Izuku was only half-listening, too entranced by your touch to keep up with the conversation. As you carefully wrapped his wrist, he sat back, taking the time to take in your image. This was really the only time he ever got to see you. The support department was on the opposite side of campus and those classes rarely ever teamed up. Besides, you were part of the relief support courses, not tactical, which meant the two of you would never train together while here. And while you were great at this part, patching him up right quick, and sending him on his way, he couldn't help but wish you were slower. All he wanted was to just sit here forever with you, injuries be damned.

"Right then, here we are," Straightening up, you finished wrapping the limb, and with a double check to make sure everything was in order, you smiled up at him. "You know, I should start charging each time you come in here. I bet you'd be able to cover this entire department's budget in a week.

"Oh, you think so?" the way he cocked his head, that cute little innocent widening of his eyes seemed to inject serotonin straight into your veins. The boy was just too adorable for his own good and he didn't even know it. "Sorry, I don't mean to be a bother."

"A bother? You?" An airy laugh blew past your lips. "My day would be so boring if I didn't have my favorite patient to keep me company." He tried his best to hide that all too obvious blush creeping up his neck. "Although, I could do without all the injuries you seem to be racking up."

Izuku turned his focus to the newly wrapped wrist, biting on his lower lip. He couldn't even bring himself to look at you or he might combust on the spot. When you left his side to go wash your hands, he finally sneaked a peek. Now that you were done, he was going to have to leave. He didn't want to leave. He liked being here with you. For whatever reason, anytime you were near him, his heart raced and he felt lightheaded, but also a million times better, even with whatever injuries he was sporting. If he didn't already know your quirk, he would've thought you had the ability to heal with just a simple smile. You were an adrenaline boost he always looked forward to.

"You're not always here, right?" the words left his mouth before he even realized he said them aloud. "I, uh, I mean, you do other things outside the recovery ward?"

"Sure," you shrugged, drying your hands. "You're not always training, right?" With a pause you shook your head, "wait, don't answer that. I think I already know that answer." Casting a smirk at him, he looked down at his shoes, a smile of his own taking root. "I'll have you know I do do other things besides patching up one Mr. Broken Bones Midoriya."

"Oh yeah, of course, you do!" he tripped over the words as they spilled from his mouth. "I just mean that your really cool and stuff but I never really see you other than here and I know the campus is big, but I just thought that maybe you, or I, or, or…uh…" he was running out of gas and confidence so he decided to abandon ship and jump to his feet, intent on escaping this sinking boat. "Um, anyway, thanks for the uh-thanks for this!" Waving his wrist, he made for the exit but before he could make his hasty getaway, you stepped in front of him.

"Geez Midoriya, calm down," it was like trying to corral a frantic bunny. The boy's eyes were darting all over the place, probably looking for a different escape route. "Tell ya what, when that wrist heals up and if you don't get any more injuries before the weekend, let's see if we can change not seeing each other around."

Izuku froze, the words processing in his mind a few times before they finally clicked. "You mean like a-a…"

"Just try not to get hurt for at least a few days? You placed a hand on his shoulder and lead him towards the door. "Think you can manage that?"

He'd never been so motivated to stay this healthy before. A furious nod and you sent him off with a wink. When the door closed, he slumped against the wall outside, bandaged wrist against his chest, trying to stop the mini horse race trampling through his chest. What he didn't know was that you were on the opposite side of that door, one hand to your own chest, the other trying to combat the heat on your cheeks. You'd been working up the courage to do that all week because god knows when Midoriya would ever find the courage to do it. An all too excited squeal rushed out of your mouth before you could stop it. This was going to be an interesting week.

 KAMINARI

You could hear the babbling from down the hall before you saw him. That stupid deep-fried laugh was synonymous with one person and one person only. Dropping the pen and whirling around in your chair, you leaned your elbow on the armrest as two of the school's med bots ushered Denki in. Thumbs up and that dopey smile plastered on his face had you trying your best to contain the giggle building in your throat.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," you smirked at the blonde who'd been sat on one of the beds. "Go over your limit again Kaminari?"

"Yay…" he mumbled and fell back on the bed with a groan.

It wasn't the first time he'd come in with a fried brain and if there was one thing you knew about him, it wouldn't be the last. The good thing is he usually just needed to sleep it off for a bit. But being the ever diligent medical intern, you came over to check him over.

Denki laid sprawled out on the bed, hands finally giving out and falling to his side. After a quick examination, he appeared to be in working order, just needed a bit of a recharge, so you returned to your paperwork and let him be.

A half-hour later, he sat up with a loud groan, rubbing his head, "Uh, that majorly sucked."

"Ah, so sleeping beauty finally rises," you didn't even turn to him but still felt that charming smile bounce off your back.

"You really think I'm a beauty?" he grinned, standing up to stretch. "You know I'm still pretty sore, I could always get back in bed and we can see if a kiss will make me feel better."

"Tell me," a playful tug on your lips as you twirled in your chair to face him, "do any of those lines ever work?"

"That's for you to answer and for me to find out."

"Sorry to disappoint bud, but I don't think you're gonna like my answer." Satisfied with his little pout, you turned back to continue your work. "You're fine Kaminari, you can go back to class now."

"Aww, but being here with you is so much better," he trudged over to your desk and leaned on the back of the chair. "Can't you write me a doctor's note so I can stay here with your beautiful face for the rest of the day?"

"And what would you even want to do here with me for the rest of the day, hmm?" you hadn't meant it to sound like an innuendo, but judging from his flushed expression, he'd taken it that way.

"Don't tell me you're interested in the medical field now?" it was your attempt to gain control of the conversation again. "And after all that hard hero training you do."

"Uh, I…" a small spark shot between his hands as he tried to think of something to say. You must've really thrown him off this time, although that isn't very hard to do. After a few moments of fidgeting, he deflated and dropped his head. "All right, I'll go back to class."

"Aww come now, don't look so down," you laughed, leaning back in your chair. "I'm sure Mr. Aizawa is much more fun than I am."

"Yeah, if you think torture is fun," he pulled his hair with a whine and slogged towards the door. When he reached for the handle, he paused and glanced back at you with a forlorn look. "Not even a kiss for the road?"

"Hmm," tapping your chin with the pen, you smirked, "maybe if you come up with a less cheesy pick-up line, then I might be more inclined."

That perked him up more than any jolt of electricity could do. "Well you're in luck babe, I've got plenty of 'em!"

"Let's hear it then, I'm all ears."

"Okay, okay…" he scrunched his face and crossed his arms. You could practically see the gears turning as he thought it through. "Damn," he spoke after a moment, trying to hide his smirk, "you're so beautiful you made me forget my pick-up line."

You chucked the pen at him with a snort, which he narrowly dodged, hopping halfway out the door in the process. "Oh my god Kaminari, I said less cheesy, get out of here!"

That dorky grin back on his face, he held up his hands. "Fine, but don't think I'm finished here. I will find one that works." With a wave, he disappeared, yelling through the door, "mark my words!"

TODOROKI

Honestly, the scrape wasn't even that bad or that deep, but he still found himself marching towards Recovery girls office in hopes he'd find you there. Ever since you became her intern, he seemed to find himself injured more and more frequently…by total accident of course.

"Oh, Todoroki," you smiled as he walked in. "What brings you in today?"

"I injured my arm during training today," he said flatly, holding the appendage up. There was a sizable gash under what looked like scorch marks. "I thought it best to get it checked out."

"Geez, who were you fighting this time?"

"Bakugo," with a shrug, he glanced at his arm.

"Well, that makes sense," you waved him to one of the beds, "come on, let's have a look then."

Silently, he sat down on the examination bed, the stiff paper ruffling as he scooted back slightly when you approached. His whole body was stiff, eyes staring everywhere but your face. It didn't look much different from his usual self, but internally, he was having a slight meltdown from your mere proximity alone.

Sliding the stool over, you sat down and twisted his left arm back and forth to get a good look, muttering a few things before giving it back. "the cuts shallow which means no stitches, so that's good. Should heal on its own in a few days. I'll just clean it and wrap it, then you're good to go."

"Oh," the word unintentionally slipped out.

When you looked up at him, you noticed the tiniest of pouts forming on his lips. "Unless something else is wrong?"

"No!" he said a little too quickly.

Something else was definitely wrong. Throwing him a quizzical look, you headed for the drawers that held your supplies. "That's good I suppose," you said lightly, "It seems like I've been seeing you almost every day this week alone."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I didn't say I was complaining," with a grin, you sat back in front of him with sterilizing pads and gauze.

Those words alone were enough for his left side to flare up. When your fingers touched his arm to clean the wound, you flinched away.

"Uh, hey Todoroki," you cocked your head, trying to maintain that professional demeanor Recovery Girl kept pestering you about (although the old woman should take her own advice) and not crack a smile. When his eyes finally met your own, you pointed to his arm, raising a brow. "Might wanna tone down the heat there."

He blinked. Then blinked again before realizing what the problem was. His cheeks flushed almost the same color as his hair and turned his head in embarrassment, rasping out a quiet apology.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" dapping the wound after the skin cooled down, your eyes wandered up to his. "You seem a little worked up."

"Something like that," he mumbled, watching your hands delicately work, using that as a distraction to keep from staring at your face. The same face he could easily find himself lost in if he gave himself the chance. So he decided to change the subject. "It's quiet here." Yeah, way to go, man, real insightful.

"Yeah, Recovery Girl gives me the quietest shifts until I gain enough experience." Once the soot was cleaned off, you grabbed the gauze. "You don't always have to be injured to come visit me, you know." Sparing a quick glance up at him, you started wrapping the limb. "I wouldn't mind the company."

"Am I even allowed in here without an excuse?" It was just a curious question but your frown caught him off-guard, wondering if he said something wrong.

"Couldn't hurt to find out," you mumbled, "I mean we are in an infirmary." Tying off the gauze, you patted just below the cut with a small smile. "Okay, you're all patched up. You're free to go."

"Does it have to be here?" Shoto suddenly stood up, eyes meeting your own.

"What?"

"You said you wouldn't mind the company," he furrowed his brow. "Does it have to be here?"

"Well, no, I was just saying…wait, you wanna see me outside of here?" you gestured around the room, a little baffled.

He nodded, looking less confident by the minute. "If that's alright with you."

The smile that lit up your face was brighter than any flames Shoto could ever hope to produce. "It's more than alright with me."

...

taglist: @dorki-time @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @thecindy @miriobaby @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567

[fandom-happy]

Whumptober fic - prompts 10 & 11

So I did a thing and here is the result - first time posting fic on here so sorry if I stuff it up!

Green Around the Gills Summary:

Malcolm is struggling with the side effects of his medication and Gil is there to help him.

Hope you enjoy it :)

Malcolm struggled to lift his feet enough to stop him from tripping as he walked the route to the precinct. 

Sleep was not his friend again and his meds were messing with his stomach something fierce, to the point that he had struggled to keep them down with the sip of water he took them with this morning. Food was just completely out of the question today. Avoiding it, likely being the only way to prevent a complete revolt of his stomach contents. Not that there was much in there right now.

Malcolm sighed heavily, head tilted to the sky as another wave of nausea crested and slowly settled in his gut. 

Today was not going to be a great day. Hopefully the current case would keep him occupied and distracted from his rebellious stomach.

Malcolm mounted the steps of the precinct and braced himself for the smells of the press of too many human bodies all in one space and then pushed through the doors.

The first few steps in were ok, the rush of fresh air from outside followed him in. The next few were ok too as he held his breath, delaying the inevitable a little longer. As he made it into the bullpen he was past the point where he could hold it any longer and stupidly left it so long that he needed to draw in a gasping breath to compensate.

The onslaught of smells that hit him from the overheated space was just too much for his already mutinous stomach. Slapping his hand to his mouth, he raced through the halls towards the bathrooms, ignoring the indignant yells that followed behind him as he barrelled through whatever happened to be in his way. The fight to not embarrass himself by vomiting all over the floor was too close a call to care about upsetting a few of his colleagues. 

Malcolm flung open the bathroom door, the sharp curse as the door thumped into a solid object had him urgently swallowing the pooling saliva in his mouth as an undignified whine left his throat at the delay in reaching his goal.

The door was pulled out of the way to see Gil framed in the doorway, his hand rubbing at his shoulder that must have taken the force of the door swing.

Malcolm lurched forward, frantically scrambling under Gil’s arm and squeezed past his side and launched himself over to the sink, just in time to lose the battle with his nausea.

“Jesus Bright, what the hell is going on?” Gil questioned as he turned back to Malcolm and gently stroked his heaving back.

It took Malcolm a few minutes to finish and be able to respond, “Sorry Gil, are you ok? Did I hurt you?” he rasped out as he wiped the remnants of his sickness from his lips. His throat felt raw after his stomach acids scorched it on the way up.

“Kid, my shoulder is the least of my worries right now. Are you ok? Do I need to take you in?” Gil’s hand curled around the back of his neck and gave a gentle squeeze. Malcolm sighed heavily and slumped back against the sinks.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just...I’ll be ok. You know, some days are a little tougher than others,” Malcolm croaked out, clearing his throat and pressing his hand to his still rebellious stomach.

Gil looked at him with that face that Malcolm knew so well from his childhood that made him feel chastised and loved all at once. A muffled groan escaped him as Gil pulled him into a tight hug. The sudden motion, seeing his nausea crest and almost get the better of him again.

Gil quickly let him go and cupped his face with his warm hands, looking him in the eyes before turning him back towards the sinks and rubbing at his back as his nausea won the battle again and left him to heave nothing but saliva and bile at this point.

“Come on Kid, you look greener than a frog right now, I’m taking you home and you can sit today out. I will be coming to check on you at lunch and if you aren’t looking any better, I’m taking you in. You aren’t even keeping water down, are you?” Gil said as he helped him rinse away the mess he made and rinse his mouth.

Malcolm shook his head minutely, too scared to move it much, lest he trigger another agonising bout of nausea.

Gil caught his eyes in the reflection of the mirror as he slowly pushed himself up bracing on the counter top.

“Kid, you know it’s ok to need help sometimes. The dehydration from not being able to keep anything down…” Gil started to say as he frowned at him. His mentor’s, well Father’s, disappointment hurting more than that cramps now pulling at his abused abdominal muscles.

“I know, Gil. The vicious cycle. The meds make it so I can’t keep anything down then the dehydration makes the nausea worse and the cycle continues. I’m trying, I promise.” Malcolm pleaded, unable to maintain eye contact as Gil’s frown deepened.

“Malcolm, I don’t blame you for this. I know this isn’t your fault and it’s a shitty situation you have to deal with. I just mean that it’s ok to admit that you need some help from others or even medical intervention to get through sometimes. No one, and especially not me, will think less of you for getting help. Hell, I would be proud of you.” Gil admonished with a little squeeze to his neck.

“You done for now? Or do you need to rest in my office before I take you home?” Gil asked his brow furrowed with what Malcolm knew now to be concern.

“I’m done...for now. Going home now would be good. Just give me a minute to get ready for out there,” Malcolm said as he rubbed at his cramping stomach and regulated his breathing to calm the stormy sea in his belly.

“Take all the time you need, Kid. I’m here for you,” Gil said with a touch to his shoulder, the simple touch enough to help him steady himself. He looked up to meet Gil’s worried stare with a tired smile.

“I know...thank you...you...I’m not sure I...yeah...thanks for always being here when I need you,” Malcolm’s voice was low and tight with the swell of emotions he was feeling about his surrogate Dad who had really been the one to save him all those years ago and continued to save him over and over again.

Gil’s gaze wavered from his as Gil’s eyes glistened as he cleared his throat and nodded his head at Malcolm.

Gil’s voice cut out as he started to respond and suddenly Malcolm found himself back in Gil’s embrace, his firm hands rubbing a steady rhythm across his back that had him sagging into him. Gil’s familiar scent enveloping him, a calming balm to his nausea.

Gil’s arms shifted to pull him to his side and rub at his shoulder, “let’s go Kid.”

Malcolm nodded into his shoulder and looked up at him with a small smile. 

It was going to be ok. 

[kinkykinard]

Our Branch of the Family Tree - 1

Fandom: 9-1-1. Word Count: 1338. Genre: hurt/comfort. Rating: teen+. Summary: when the pain of his injury post-2x18 gets to be too much, Buck calls the one person he can always count on to help him through it. Note: for @thebuckleysiblingsweek 2021.  AO3 link here.  Unbeta’d.  Gif by the lovely @fireladybuckley​. ♥

          The pain was blinding.

           A single sob escaped Buck’s throat as he groped blindly for the light switch in the bathroom, swaying precariously on his crutches.  The sound echoed off the tiled walls, opening the floodgates, drawing more wretched cries from deep in his chest.  He’d forgotten to take his painkillers before lying down for the night and he was paying the price, feeling an acute awareness of each pin and screw in his bones as his body healed around them.

           His leg throbbed in time with his fast and frantic heartbeat as he reached for the pill bottle on the edge of the sink.  His hands shook violently as he uncapped it and a sudden white-hot flare of agony made him fumble and lose his grip, sending the bottle and its contents onto the floor, scattering all around him.

           “Damn it!”

           Leaning his crutches against the wall, Buck white-knuckled the counter with one hand, bending forward and reaching out for the pills with the other.  It was too much, though.  The weight on his leg as he lifted it, his cast pressing into his ankle, was agony.  He had to bite back the urge to throw up as he straightened and collapsed heavily onto the toilet, forcing his breathing to steady.

           Reaching for his phone, tears stinging his eyes, Buck’s thumb hovered over the unlock button.  It was after four in the morning - late enough that everyone he knew who wasn’t on shift would be asleep, and early enough that no one would be getting up for the next day any time soon.  Bobby and the rest of the crew were at work.  Ali had made it clear that she wasn’t in it for the long haul.  Carla was close, but not so close that he would disturb her.  Abby was just a memory, a ghost from another time, and he had no one else in his life who would come running to help him.  

           No one except for Maddie.  Maddie, who had always patched him up when he’d been hurt, who’d dried his tears when he’d cried, who’d loved him when he couldn’t love himself.  Maddie, who he knew would drop everything to be there, who wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t ask why.

           He keyed in her number before he could think of any reason why he shouldn’t call her.  

           “Buck?” 

           Her voice was thick with sleep, raspy from disuse overnight.

           “I need you,” Buck whispered.

           Maddie’s voice was clear and alert then, her attention roused by his words.

           “I’m on my way.”

           He could hear the rustling of fabric before the call was disconnected and he hoped she could get there fast.  The pain was making time slow down, each second hanging in the air, thick as molasses as it oozed aside for the next one.  He closed his eyes, tangling his fingers in the hem of his t-shirt and trying to focus on anything that wasn’t just pure, unadulterated pain.

           The sound of a key in the door some time later was the first thing Buck perceived outside of his pain since the moment it had awakened him.  He glanced up at the sound of Maddie’s voice calling his name.

           “Bathroom,” he called back, his voice gravelly, hoarse from crying.

           He listened to Maddie’s footsteps draw closer and hung his head as she rounded the corner, suddenly feeling vulnerable and ridiculous for having called her.  Mistaking his chagrin for something far more serious, Maddie rushed forward, kneeling in front of him and brushing a few curls away from his forehead as she scanned him for any signs of illness or injury.

           “Talk to me, Evan,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind.  “What’s going on?”

           “Hurts,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely to his leg.  “I didn’t take my meds earlier, and now I can’t reach them.  I didn’t know what to do, so I called you.”

           Maddie glanced around the floor, spotting the tablets scattered all over the place.  She put a hand on Buck’s uninjured knee, giving it a squeeze.

           “I’m glad you did,” she reassured him.  “Just hang in there, baby brother.  We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

           He nodded and watched out of the periphery of his vision as she quickly picked up all of the pills he’d spilled in his desperation.  She ducked out of his line of sight for a moment, disappearing to grab a glass from the kitchen before returning to fill it at the sink.  Kneeling again, Maddie held the pills out in one hand and the glass in the other.  Buck accepted both gratefully, chasing the bitter tablets with a mouthful of water before setting the glass aside.

           “Do you want to go back to the couch, or wait until the meds start to work?”  She asked, and Buck was infinitely grateful for her consideration.  He nodded after a moment, looking up for the first time since she’d arrived.  

           “It’s going to be a while, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

           Maddie smiled sadly at him.  Evan Buckley was a saint; even in so much pain that she could see it in every line of his face, he was concerned about her.  It made her heart hurt to think what an incredible, kind, compassionate, loving person he’d grown into in spite of his upbringing, and she just wanted to hug him.  She’d save it for later, though - first she wanted to get him taken care of.

           “I’d kneel here all night if it made you feel better.  What do you want?”

           Buck worried with his lip for a moment, running a hand through his hair and grimacing as he shifted his weight a little, the pain flaring once more.

           “The couch,” he decided at last.  With a nod, Maddie held out a hand to help him up.  He sagged as he stood, leaning more of his weight on her than he wanted to, but she didn’t buckle under the strain.  She held him, rubbing his back until he was ready to move, and then supported him as they crossed the apartment.  He was leaning on her even more heavily from the strain of moving through the pain by the time they reached the couch, but she brushed off his apologies as she helped him settle.

           “Lie down,” Maddie instructed softly, helping him lift his casted leg to ease some of the strain on it.  Buck shifted a little, settling into the most comfortable position he could as she moved around the living room, fetching a few spare cushions.  “I’m going to elevate your leg a bit to help bring down any swelling under that cast.  It’ll start feeling better in no time, I promise.”

           Buck let Maddie manipulate his leg.  She was gentle as she held it up and stacked pillows beneath it, but the pain was still white-hot and intense and he was exhausted by the time she finished and set his leg down.  He swallowed thickly as she perched on the sliver of couch he wasn’t already occupying at his side and leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek.

           “Okay?”  Maddie asked.

           Buck nodded.

           “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

           Maddie stroked his cheek with her thumb, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead as she reached behind him for a blanket.  She shook it out, smiling as she draped it over him and tucked it around his frame the way she’d done so many times when they were kids.

           “Well, you never have to find out because I will always be here, no matter what.  You call me and I’ll come running.”

           Buck smiled for the first time in days at that, closing his eyes.  The pain hadn’t dulled much, but the comfort of having Maddie there for him was enough to take his anxiety offline for a bit and to let him rest a little easier.

           “I love you, Mads.”

           “I love you too, baby brother.”

[deascheck]

Finding Prince Charming

Summary: Reader is captured by a werewolf and then rescued by Sam and Dean, who she’d never met before.

Word Count: 3495

Pairings: developing Sam x Reader

Warnings: decent amount of angst, violence, a death, description of injuries… I think that’s it? AND FLUFF

A/N: Would love feedback.. Please let me know what you think. I don’t write often, so however I can make my writing better, I’d love to try! Also, I didn’t really research any medical stuff, so if there are inaccuracies, I apologize! This is also un-beta'ed, so sorry for any mistakes!

You were running. You didn’t know how far you’d gone or how long you’d been going, but you were too scared to stop. Over your labored breaths, you could hear hoarse growls coming from behind you.

As your feet pounded the ground, your arms pumping, you risked a glance behind you. As you turned your head, your hair flopped across your face. Panicked, you brushed at it with your hand. The thing you were running from was several yards behind you, but, unfortunately, was still there.

You didn’t know exactly what it was, but you knew it had started out looking like a ridiculously attractive man. The man had approached you at the bar and offered to buy you a drink. He’d introduced himself as Tristan. Tall, tan, white teeth, hair that was ruffled as if it was sex hair, and a broad chest just made for cuddling against. Of course you didn’t say no. Being single and looking for a fun night, you’d commenced your usual flirtations.

You didn’t realize he wasn’t a human until you had headed for the car with him, and you saw his reflection in the side-view mirror. Tristan heard your gasp and had apparently decided to hell with it, because he lunged as a fanged, clawed non-human. So you did the first thing you could think of, which was to pepper spray him and run. You mentally thanked the Lord that you’d worn flat boots.

The pepper spray had given you a big enough lead that he hadn’t caught you yet – apparently he wasn’t very fast – but you didn’t know how to get rid of him. He was too close for you to ditch.

You ran past a closed Starbucks, and then realized where you were. There was a 24/7 Walgreens store just a block away. If you could get that far, you’d be safe. Energy renewed, you pumped your arms faster, spurring your deadening legs to move more quickly.

The buildings on the block blurred as your speed and desperation increased. You hadn’t heard a growl since you’d checked over your shoulder, and you didn’t dare check again. The Walgreens came into view and you almost cried with relief.

As you closed the distance between you and the door to a few yards, you felt something massive grip your bicep tightly from behind, and yank you backwards. Before you could scream for help, you felt a searing pain in the back of your head and all went black.

When you came to, you were tied to a chair in a dank, dark room. It smelled like dead fish, and you couldn’t help but gag at the initial smell. You hear a chuckle come from across the room. Your eyes weren’t adjusting fast enough, so you squinted, trying to get a better look at thing that chuckled. It was the Tristan-monster.

“Tristan? What are you? Cause dude, you fugly.*” You did your best not to draw back into the chair when he stood up abruptly and stalked towards you. Thrusting your chin forward defiantly, you said rudely, “Why am I here? Cause if you kill me, I’m gonna be pissed. And then I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”

Tristan sank to his knees in front of you, allowing you to look straight at him instead of straight up. He spoke for the first time with his fangs and claws out, and said, “Y/N, why did you run? You made things so much more complicated for yourself.” Tristan’s voice was gravelly and deep, and held a hint of frustration and disappointment.

“Why did I run?! Oh let me think for a second.. Maybe because I saw a massive, sharp-toothed monster in my car’s mirror? It’s called self-preservation, genius.” You rolled your eyes at him, wondering if he was genuinely surprised or just being a tool.

Tristan growled when you called him a monster, and his claws elongated as he stared angrily at you. Your eyes widened and you could do nothing but watch as he pulled his arm back to rip you a new one – quite literally.

You couldn’t help the scream that ripped itself from your throat as he swung at your shoulder. His claws tore through your muscle like it was water. All you could think about was the pain; the white hot, searing pain that raged in your shoulder.

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to curl yourself around your wound. But Tristan’s attack wasn’t finished. He swung at you again, his claws raking down your side leaving deep oozing gashes. Your macho attitude officially snuffed out, you screamed again, shaking with pain.

The third hit left you fearing your ribs were laid bare. Your torso was in shreds. Tristan’s claws had rent from your collarbone all the way down to your shorts. Vaguely, you realized you were soaked in your own blood. Even as you tried to lean away from Tristan, you started to lose consciousness as the pain and blood loss began to take their toll.

However, no swing came. You heard three gunshots, and Tristan’s growls stopped. Moving your eyes to him, you saw him on the floor, blood spreading from his body. As darkness overtook you, you made out two tall shapes running towards you.

When you came to, all you saw was white. Were you in heaven? You raised your head an inch and looked around. You saw monitors and tubes, and then you heard bleeping. Nope. Not heaven. The hospital. In a chair next to your bed, you saw a man slumped, asleep. You had no idea who he was, so you took a moment to study him. He had long hair, for a guy. He had a bit of scruff, and was most certainly not hard to look at. He was in a red flannel shirt and dirty, ripped jeans. The circles under his eyes were dark, and you wondered how much he actually got to sleep.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he stirred and opened his eyes. You made eye contact and he immediately shifted to lean forward. He cleared his throat, and said, “Hey! Glad you’re awake. Doctors weren’t sure when you would wake up. How are you feeling?” His green eyes were gentle and inquisitive, and you found yourself getting lost in them.

Realizing you hadn’t answered the question, you quickly did a self-assessment and responded, “I’m fine, actually… I don’t feel much right now. Must be the pain meds. How did I get here? And sorry, who are you?” Your curiosity was eating you up.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m Sam. Me and my brother, Dean, we found you in the warehouse. We brought you here.” Sam blushed slightly, which you found surprisingly adorable.

“Hi Sam, I’m Y/N. I, uh… I don’t remember much after the Tristan-monster attacked me,- ” you stopped and closed your eyes briefly. You’d said Tristan-monster out loud. Sam was smiling widely when you opened your eyes, and through your embarrassment, you found it a very attractive smile. He had the cutest dimples you’d ever seen. You leaned your head back and groaned, “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

Sam’s smile turned into a laugh, but he took pity and said, “Hey, I’m not judging. It seems like an accurate assessment if Tristan was his name.”

His comment made you think of something. You tilted your head at him. “What on earth were you doing in that warehouse to begin with? No one in their right mind would go to a place that stank that badly of dead fish.”

Sam chuckled, managing to look slightly uncomfortable at the same time. He looked at you for a few seconds, chewing his bottom lip, as if he was internally debating what he should say. You decided to help him out, and said softly, “The truth would be nice, if that helps at all.”

He huffed quietly and cleared his throat again. “Well, Dean and I were looking for your Tristan-monster. He was a werewolf. We’d tracked him to the warehouse, when we heard you were in there too.” At this point, he looked away guiltily. “Nothing seemed out of control, so we didn’t want to rush in with our guns half cocked. But… turns out you were there, and that cost you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Your sympathy swelling, you reached out for his hand. Sam put his hand in yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand gently.

“It’s ok, Sam. Really. I got myself into that mess. Should have known someone that good looking and charming was too good to be true...” You trailed off bitterly.

Sam squeezed your hand. “Hey. Y/N. Look at me.” He waited until you dragged your eyes to him before continuing. “It’s not your fault. This happens to the best people for no good reason. It’s awful that Tristan picked you, but think about it this way. You made it. You survived. If you can get through that hell, you’ll make it through whatever life throws at you. And after shit like that, I hope life throws you everything good you could possibly want. Maybe you’ll even have your Prince Charming thrown at you.” Sam looked at you with soft eyes and you couldn’t help but melt a little.

You loved how sincere he was. You gave him a small smile. “Well, once I get out of here, maybe my good life will start with dinner with you.” You glanced at him shyly, not really regretting your inquiry.

Sam leaned forward slightly and said softly, “I think I’d like that. But you’ve got a long recovery ahead, Y/N. You had a real one over done on you.” His smile faded slightly as he thought about the extent of your injuries.

Before he could say anything, though, your stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard halfway across the world. You blushed deeply and quipped, “Before we talk about how much I got screwed up, is there any way I could have something to eat? I think my stomach wants to eat itself, it's so hungry.”

Your comment surprised a laugh out of Sam, and he let go of your hand and got to his feet. “Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Still chuckling, he strode out of the room quickly.

A couple minutes after Sam left, a nurse bustled in. She was beautiful and young, but looked comfortable in her role; she’d been here a while.

She smiled warmly at you and said, “Hi honey, good to see you awake. I’m Laura, and I’m gonna check your bandages, ok?”

Something was warning you about her, but you shrugged it off, blaming your lack of trust on your trauma. “Ok, thanks Laura.”

She pulled some clean bandages out from a cabinet near your bed and started trying to make conversation. “You know, whoever gave you those lacerations really worked you over. We were worried we were going to lose you for a while there.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion. “A while there? How long have I been here?”

Laura looked at you in surprise. “No one’s told you? You’ve been here for three days. Two men who found you brought you in. You have a severe concussion, your shoulder muscle was ripped to shreds, and sweetheart, I won’t even go into how bad the wound on your chest and stomach was. Let’s just say after surgery and a lot of stitches later, you were stabilized.”

You weren’t sure how to react. You knew Tristan had practically killed you, but hearing it voiced was scary. And three days? Holy hell. He must have hit you upside the head a lot harder than you thought. Laura’s hands moving to your bandages brought you back to reality. You almost didn’t want to look while she prepared to change them.

As she pulled the bandages back, you hissed through your teeth. Thank God you were on serious pain medication, because the wounds looked like they would hurt like a mother. Stitches and staples were all over your torso. Your left shoulder had so many staples you were surprised there was still skin showing. The gashes from your collarbone to your hips were stitched and stapled, but they were terrifying. You knew they were all going to scar.

A sharp prick redirected your attention to Laura. She was no longer smiling, and she stared down at you with a mixture of disgust and smugness on her face. You looked at her, confusion all over your face. “What did you just inject me with?” you asked, trying not to panic. Laura tossed away the syringe, and sneered at you. “You think you can get away with killing my mate? His stench is all over you. Did you honestly think he was alone? He was my world and you took him from me!” Her lip curled in anger as her eyes filled with hate.

“I just injected you with poison,” Laura continued, hate in her voice. “An injection of this particular type will give you a nice, long, slow death. I didn’t do enough to kill you, though. Oh no. I’m going to drag this out. You’re going to suffer for taking Tristan from me!” Laura’s hair had started to fall out of its bun from the angry shakes that racked her body.

As she watched you, you felt a pain in your chest. You gasped at the sharpness of it. You started to curl, but found it hurt more because of your injuries. The pain centered on your heart, and you arched your back slightly. You were too weak to do anything more than moan in agony.

As it faded, Laura shot you with the syringe again. You shook your head, desperate for the pain to stop. “Please, stop…” you gasp. “Please. I didn’t kill Tristan!” Tears rolled down your cheeks as your clenched your eyes shut in pain.

Suddenly, a familiar voice yelled, “Hey! Drop the syringe!”

Your red-rimmed eyes snapped open and you saw Sam drop a bag of food as he launched himself at Laura.

It was clear Sam knew how to fight. He easily overpowered Laura and as he knelt on her back, he pulled a knife from his boot. But Laura was too angry for Sam to hold for long. With a chilling growl, she morphed into a female version of the Tristan-monster - the werewolf- with the claws and fangs. Sam was thrown across the room against a wall of cabinets. Through your pain-hazed eyes, you saw his head snap back and contact the wall with a sharp crack.

Laura stalked toward him, her claws slowly extending. Sam, slumped on the ground, looked around for something to fight her off with. Panicked, your eyes swept the room, trying to help from your bed. You stop your sweep when you see the syringe on the floor not two feet from your bedside table.

Rolling your eyes, you knew you would regret what you were about to do. With a grunt, you let yourself fall out of bed. You made sure to land on your right side, but the impact still jarred you to your core. Your vision went dark for a second as you fought to stay conscious. You shook your head. Sam needed help. Grabbing the syringe, you hauled yourself to your feet and yelled weakly, “Sam!” and tossed the syringe.

His head spun in your direction and he caught the syringe right as Laura let loose a terrifying snarl and lunged at him. You screamed despite yourself as your view of Sam was blocked by Laura’s attack.

You heard Sam grunt and then Laura was shoved away from him. She staggered away, clutching her heart. Sam staggered to his feet, the syringe clutched tightly in his hand. He’d injected her in the heart. A full dose. Both of you watched warily as she yelled in pain, and then collapsed.

Sam felt for her pulse, and when he found none, he stumbled to you. He was bleeding from a shallow cut to his cheek, but he paid it no attention as he grabbed you. His hands ghosted over you, checking for further injury. You sobbed, losing any semblance of composure you had left.

“She injected me in the arm with that stuff,” you cried. “Twice! I’m so scared. It hurts so bad,” you moaned as you started to drop to the floor. Sam immediately called for a doctor as he caught you. A doctor must’ve been close, because one hurried into the room at Sam’s yell. Sam explained the nurse had injected you with poison, to which the doctor’s jaw dropped. He hurried out and returned a couple minutes later with a generic antidote and security. Dropping to his knees, he gently injected you and sat back, waiting to see what would happen. While he attended to you, security grabbed the nurse from the floor and carried her to another room, where she was placed in handcuffs and inspected. You later heard she was pronounced dead almost immediately.

Still holding you, Sam wrapped his arms around you, low enough so that he wouldn’t mess up your injuries further and pulled you onto the bed. Once there, you leaned against his chest and turned your head into the crook of his neck, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes no matter how hard you tried to stop. The pain was slowing, a feeling of warmth chasing the pain through your body.

“It’s going away,” you mumbled. The doctor nodded and said, “I need to check your vitals to make sure you’re stable after that poison was injected. Let me have your good arm.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm and took your blood pressure. It was a little high, but considering the trauma you’d been through, he accepted it. Grabbing a thermometer he ran it over your forehead and behind your ear. Your temperature was ok, coming down as the poison left your body. The doctor nodded to himself. “You seem stable. I’m going to let you two be for a while. I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, and you eventually cried yourself to sleep. You woke to voices talking quietly. You could feel Sam’s voice rumbling deep in his chest and you found yourself thinking you could get used to feeling that.

Then the reality of your situation sank in, and your eyes flew open. You immediately saw a man sitting in the chair next to the bed. He was also in a flannel shirt and jeans. He had incredibly green eyes and he was deep in conversation with Sam. You flashed back to your conversation with Sam earlier. This must be Dean.

Dean’s eyes flickered to you as he talked and he realized you were awake. “Y/N!” he exclaimed. “Sam, she’s awake.” Dean held his hand out, “Hi, I’m Dean. I understand you helped save my little brother. Thank you!” He smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You took his hand shyly, smiling back. “I think you guys saved my ass first, and Sam here saved it again earlier… So I think tossing him a syringe is the least I could do.” You looked up at Sam and then again back at Dean. “Thank YOU. And thank you for getting me here. I would have died if not for you two.”

As you spoke, you snuggled deeper into Sam’s arms. Maybe you’d only met him that day, but you knew that you felt safe around him. Sam squeezed you gently in response, and you felt your hair move as he spoke next to your head.

“So, Y/N. You’re patched up enough that you can check out if you want to. And,” Sam hesitated briefly before he continued. “Well, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us. We have a place a couple hours from here where you can recuperate and get back to full strength.” You smiled as he talked, already knowing your answer. “Call us overprotective, but after that nurse went loco, we want to be able to keep an eye on you while you finish healing.”

You craned your head as far as you could and beamed up at him. “Sam, when you told me life would throw me my Prince Charming, I didn’t realize he’d already shown up.”

Sam gave you a big smile and pressed his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss, giving you an unspoken vow that he would always be there. “I’m here for you, always.”

Your moment was interrupted by Dean clearing his throat. “Um, guys? Yeah, still here. Get a room. But first… Y/N. You don’t happen to have a sister do you?”

[incandescent-creativity]

Episode Three

Previous: One | Two | 

Next: Episode Four

Word Count: 5,100. I could’ve split this into two, but I felt bad for the months between episodes, so let’s get back into this with a whopper.

Hans is looking forward to getting to Med Bay and getting something put on his almost-assuredly broken nose, but as soon as they finish materializing in the transporter room, his communicator beeps.

“Commander Hans to the bridge.”

He sighs again, perfectly capable of guessing what is in store for him there. “Lieutenant, why don’t you take Ensign Matt here and show him how the Med Bay is organized.”

“Right away, Commander,” she says, walking off with Matt in tow.

Resolving to take the criticism she has for him as gracefully as possible, Hans makes his way up to the bridge. Somehow, while waiting in the elevator, a sneaky drop of nerves worms its way into his heart.

Seeing Beth in front of him doesn’t do anything for the flutters in his stomach. She is the picture of beautiful, severe perfection: her bright blonde hair is trimmed to absolute uniformity, and her uniform itself is cleanly pressed. The tipped points of her eyebrows and ears add a sharpened effect to her entire image. When she stands up out of her chair and folds her hands in front of him, everybody else very pointedly looks at their stations.

Trying to remain undaunted, Hans says, “Reporting as requested, captain.”

“I would like you to, yes.”

He can’t follow her confusing sentence structure. “What would you like me to do?”

“Report,” she answers, her voice perfectly cool. “Was your trip successful?”

Ah. “Well, yes and no. We did acquire the venom, but the Onans asked us to harvest it ourselves. We did our best, and we got two full vials thanks to Matt’s idea—he actually came through with that quite nicely, by the way, kid’s got some good potential as far as I can see, but—”

“His idea?” Beth interrupts. “Specify.”

Clearing his throat, Hans explains, “Lt. Commander Hallie and I had a small disagreement about who should do the harvest, but then he suggested that we both operate under our individual areas of expertise to get the job done as a team. As a result of his idea, we got the job done.”

“I wasn’t under the impression that dragons were your area of expertise,” she says.

Wondering just how thoroughly Captain Beth has researched them all, Hans clarifies, “Keeping large, dangerous animals calm is something I’ve been practicing since childhood. Dragons are a bit different, but Matt’s point about Hallie being able to memorize the proper harvesting technique meant that that job was what I was best suited for.”

With a tiny raise of her eyebrow, Beth looks away from him and nods thoughtfully. “Between his quick thinking and the fact that he was the only one to actually bother communicating back to the ship, perhaps he should operate as my first officer, instead.”

He knew that that’s what this is all about, but her icy delivery still stings. “Whatever you see fit to do, captain,” he defers. “But you might want to get the whole story first.”

The way that Beth looks back to him and settles into a disapproving glare confirms that it was a risky thing to say. “I asked you to report, Commander.”

“And then you asked me what his idea was,” he adds. Taking a deep breath, he continues, “You hailed us while we were in there getting ready to harvest. The sudden noise startled the beast, and upset it. We were handling that bit of danger when I told Matt to reply to you.”

Beth takes a moment to blink once, as if judging the truth of his story. Hans has no idea if that’s what she is actually doing or not; she is surprisingly hard to read.

“One would think an injury from a dragon would be more severe,” she finally comments.

“What, this?” he asks, not surprised that she noticed (damn thing has swelled up), but surprised that she cares about it in light of his apparent insubordination. “Nah, this was just from a scaly headbutt. She wasn’t actually that upset at me, just wanted to get her point across.”

“And what point was that?”

Hans shrugs. “That she was in charge.”

If Hans didn’t know her better, he would swear that Beth thinks about smiling. “Your situation has not changed much, I’m afraid. Go down to Med Bay and get that nose looked at. It’s bleeding all over my bridge.”

“Aye, captain.”

He doesn’t let himself smile until he has safely turned away from her gaze and is walking towards the lift.

—

Matt fully and bodily bumps into Hans on his way out the Medical Bay.

The commander catches him in his arms and spins him around the way, guiding him over to the side to lean against a wall. “Woah, there!” he says as he does so. “Careful. Don’t want to bust me up further, do we?”

“No, of course not,” Matt manages to stammer out. How did he do that so smoothly?

“Although,” Hallie speaks up, walking over to see what was going on, “if you were to get ‘busted up,’ as you put it, this would be the best place to do such a thing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hans says, still sounding to be in good humor despite the stuffiness of his nose.

“I presume you’re here to get that taken care of?”

“You presume correctly,” Hans confirms. Before he walks off, he looks back over his shoulder and says, “Why don’t you go back up to the bridge? Captain might have questions for you.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asks.

But nobody hears him. Hallie is already guiding Hans to a table in the back corner. One of her attendants—he can’t remember their name—is guiding him towards the doors. There isn’t anything to do but let those doors close behind him. Standing alone in the hallway, Matt settles his hands on his hips and tries to remember which way the command bridge is.

Eventually, he has to give up and ask the computer.

Once the automated voice (the one that kind of reminds him of Hallie, actually) points him in the right direction, Matt is quick to follow orders. Even though he knows he belongs, he still hesitates to step out the body of the elevator. But when Beth notices him and summons him towards her, he has no choice but to squash the gnawing feelings of displacement.

“Welcome back aboard, Matt,” she says. “I trust your first mission went smoothly.”

Reliving their encounter with the dragon, Matt has to wince. “Well, do you mean perfectly, or in general?”

“Yes, yes, Commander Hans already explained the source of his injury,” Beth says, suddenly dismissive. “But I also heard that we recovered the venom we needed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt confirms.

“Then you may retake your position at the helm,” she tells him. Once again, he is not offered any options. “Lt. Commander Christian, you will keep watch over the Bridge until Commander Hans gets back from his brief stint in Med Bay. Keep us cruising while I go commune with Starfleet.”

“Aye, captain,” both Matt and Christian say at the same time.

The two of them share a look, though Matt is still deciphering what kind of look it was before Christian breaks it off to tend to his post. Doing his best to disguise his confusion, Matt turns away and does the same.

When the elevator doors close behind Beth, it’s as if the room exhales. There is a simultaneous, unifying movement of the bodies on the bridge sitting back in their chairs, no longer tense. Small conversations crop up amongst crew he doesn’t know, like weeds surviving in the corners of a lawn. Turning around from the blinking array of screens in front of him, Matt smiles to himself. Good to see I’m not the only one afraid of her.

Christian, who has been making slow circles rather than sit in a chair that doesn’t belong to him, happens to catch this as he is circling around.

“Something funny, ensign?”

“No, sir,” he answers automatically, the smile sliding off his face.

“Relax,” Christian advises. “I’m not the captain.”

“That’s just it, sir,” Matt says. “I was just noticing how much more relaxed people are when she isn’t here.”

He looks around the room, as if to confirm what Matt already knows to be true. When he looks back, it isn’t with any sort of smiling approval, but there is a new light of respect in his gaze.

“You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?”

“I guess so.” The word hasn’t ever been used at him before, but it fits as well as any.

Their chief of security nods. “You let me know if you ever notice anything, then.”

Offering up what he hopes is a winning smile, Matt says, “Of course!”

When Christian says, “Very good,” his voice is stiffer, but Matt just takes it as him getting back into Command Mode. Shrugging to himself, he turns his seat around to face the screens waiting for him.

—

Back in her quarters, the captain of the Spark has the heels of her hands crushed into her eyes.

Devastating. Their first mission, and she jeopardizes it for her team to the point of physical injury. A minor injury, and the retrieval was still a success, but it was an injury nonetheless. Furthermore, Beth is quite sure that the Onans are not pleased at the upsetting of their Intaxilon. She says as much in her log, knowing in her head that an accurate record of events is important but feeling discouragement in her heart.

Neither Starfleet nor Dr. Agau is interested in any heartfelt feelings, however. So she keeps them to herself while she rubs the intense pressure into her eye sockets. The grounding technique, of physical pain that distracts from the mental anxiety she cannot rid herself of, is an old one she picked up from her days in the Academy. Unlike scratches upon her arms or split knuckles from punched walls, this is the most logical choice in that it leaves no physical mark of weakness for others to notice and prey upon.

The practice does, however, leave her with a moment of swirling blindness when she withdraws her hands to answer her communicator.

“Bridge to Captain, come in, Captain.”

Christian’s voice. “This is the captain, bridge.”

“You’d better get up here.”

Ignoring the dizzying surging of blood down from her head, Beth stands and leaves her quarters. “Specify.”

This time, it’s Matt’s voice who responds. “I received a distress signal from a ship in a nearby asteroid belt.”

An electric recognition of the opportunity before her runs through Beth in a thrill. “I’m on my way. Stand by and wait for me.”

On her way up, Hans appears from around a corner and joins her in stride.

“Are you fit for duty?” she asks him, not bothering to look at his face to see Hallie’s excellent work.

“Of course I am,” Hans says, apparently irritated at her checking in. “As long as there’s breath in my body, I’m fit to serve.”

Now it is her turn to be irritated. “That is simply untrue.” He may believe the sentiment behind it, but that does not change the fact that a broken leg or two will take anybody out of commission.

As they step into the body of the elevator together, Beth arranges themselves so that Hans is at her right hand. Perhaps he will never notice the details of proper protocol, but she will not let herself abandon them.

“We’re going after them, right?” he asks, breaking the silence of the elevator space. “We have to help them.”

“We don’t,” she says, correcting another untruth, “but we will.”

The doors open, and Beth steps onto a starship bridge full of people waiting for her command.

“Ensign, report.”

The time Matt wastes saying “Aye, captain,” is an issue that will have to be addressed later, as Beth cannot afford to waste even more precious time with her discipline. “The signal is originating from a ship drifting in an asteroid belt. When we played her message, she appeared human.”

“On screen.”

The woman on the screen has unkempt black hair, pale skin covered in grime and grease, and a cut on her cheek that has bled down the side of her face. “Please,” she begs the screen, “please, they’ve left me for dead. If anybody can hear this, you must come help me!”

“Chart a course for the origination of the signal,” Beth orders.

“Already done, ma’am,” Matt answers.

This, at least, is passable work. “Commander, put us on yellow alert.”

“We’re leaving our weapons systems offline?” Christian demands.

Beth turns on a heel, and says as quickly as possible, “If it is true that the aggressive party has fled, then we have no need for weapons. If it is not, I’m quite sure you will be on hand to quickly remedy my oversight. But until that fact is proven, I expect you to remain at your post.” As he steps back, Beth follows up with, “Engage.”

The omnipresent hum of her ship kicks into a higher gear as the stars lengthen in front of the window. Beth makes her way to her chair and sits on the edge of it.

“Upon our arrival, keep hailing frequencies open,” Beth directs. “If she has more to say, it will do us well to hear it.”

When the Spark and its crew exit warp, they are faced with countless chunks of rock and ice floating casually in tandem with each other. Beth hears a rather sharp intake of breath from both Matt, who is unsettled, and Hans, who sounds as if he is preparing and psyching himself up.

“Hailing frequencies open, Captain,” Matt reports quietly.

“Keep a sharp eye out, people,” Beth commands in a strong voice that she has definitely never practiced in private. “Anybody who picks up on the ship, speak up.”

Silence reigns as Beth adjusts the impulse engines that are firing with quick, adept fingers. She may have quietly resented the inordinate amount of training hours Dr. Agau had required while she was back at the Academy, but they are certainly coming in handy now that she needs to drive and keep her eyes out on space. Concentrating on her breathing much in the same manner she does during her meditations, Beth scans the space in front of them.

Matt lets them know when they are approaching the specific coordinates. As they come around the corner, everybody speaks up at once, as the ship is floating in the center of the screen.

“Yes,” Beth says, unenthused. “Thank you, team.”

Leaning closer, she speaks across the frequencies beaming from space. “This is Captain Beth Agau of the starship Spark, responding to a distress signal we recieved not an hour ago. Is anyone there to hear me?”

When a trembling, high voice responds, “Yes, I’m here,” Beth commands her image to be on screen.

Not much appears to have changed since the last time they saw her. Perhaps the blood on her face has since dried, and perhaps she has gotten a bit cleaner, but it is very much still the same woman. As soon as she is on screen, she starts speaking in earnest demonstration.

“Please, you have to send someone over, I don’t know what they broke, but they came in and they disabled the ship, they left with everybody else, it’s been getting harder to breathe, I don’t know what to do—”

Beth holds a hand up, and the woman cuts off with a snap of her teeth.

“If your shields are inoperable, we can simply beam you aboard here, and take you wherever you need to know.”

Her brown eyes dart off to the left, but she doesn’t consider for long. “Please, no, that isn’t necessary. You don’t know what this ship means to me. I know you can fix what they did, don’t you have to be—have to be rather smart to get on one of these big ships?”

“Hang on,” Beth says, ignoring the compliment. “I thought you said you don’t know what they did—how do you know we’ll be able to repair the damage?”

“Who is ‘they’ in the first place?” Christian mutters.

“Please,” is a last gasp before the video cuts off.

“Did you see that?” Hans asks, taking a step forward to point at the screen now full of asteroids.

“She looked behind us,” Christian confirms. “Someone else was in the room with her.”

“Christian, I’ll be telling Finnigan to meet you in Transporter Room One,” Beth says, her voice full of professional confidence. “Whatever is broken on that ship, he’ll be able to fix it. Your job is to keep him safe and find out who is keeping that poor girl hostage.”

Christian turns and leaves without another word, setting his phasers as he goes.

“Hallie, back to Med Bay. If anyone gets injured on either ship, I need you ready to treat them.” As Hallie leaves in the same silent manner Christian did, although she does add a nod of acknowledgement.

“Matt, I need scans of the surrounding area,” is her next order. “It won’t help us if there are shielded ships around, but any information is good information.”

“I’m on it,” he promises.

Hans steps up to her side, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He is clearly waiting for his task, but Beth has none for him. Not after Ona.

Instead, she taps her communicator awake. “Captain to Engineering, I need Lt. Commander Finnigan to report to Transporter Room One. Security chief Christian, meeting you there, can fill you in on what little details we have.”

Commander Hans, apparently not content with pointed body language, speaks up. “And me, Captain?”

“You’re fine where you are,” she says, her voice admittedly somewhat clipped short.

After a brief pause, he responds, “So that’s how it is.”

Standing up from her chair, Beth faces Hans directly. “Commander, if you have a complaint, you may request a formal appointment so that I may hear it, but I think it may be a better use of everyone’s time if you did not do so in the middle of a tense situation.”

She tells herself that she takes an extra moment of time to look up into his eyes to drive her point home as clearly as possible, but if that were all, would she still feel subtly shaken after she turns away to walk to Matt’s station? Perhaps I am still just adjusting to using the authority of command.

“Nothing yet,” Matt reports as soon as her steps quiet down and she stands behind him. “Nothing to do but keep our eyes open and wait for word, I guess.”

“Hopefully we do actually get word this time,” Beth murmurs quietly. Hans’s responding sigh is a satisfaction she pretends she does not hear.

As if on cue, Christian’s voice appears out of the communicator. “Beaming over now, Captain.”

—

When Christian materializes on the broken ship, the first thing he hears is a scream.

He pulls his phaser up and steps in front of Finnigan, but when his head whips around to search the room for somebody leaping out to attack them, he doesn’t find anything. The only thing he sees is the beat up human girl scrambling away from them.

“Hey, now,” Finnigan says, more in surprise than anything else. When her scream cuts off, he pokes his head from out behind Christian. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

She looks back up at Christian, and then back to Finnigan. “Sorry,” she apologizes shortly. “You just sort of… appeared.”

“You’re telling me this ship doesn’t have transporter capabilities?” Christian asks. How is that possible?

“There was no warning,” she clarifies.

Now that they aren’t being attacked, and Christian has confirmed that fact, he holsters his phaser. “We’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Now,” Finnigan says, clapping his hands together. The girl jumps. Something definitely has her on edge.

More than being on a ship threatening to come apart and cast them all into space, of course.

“I’ll go fix ‘er up, and you can be on your way. Just point me towards the engine room.”

“No!” she exclaims. “No, I’ll—I’ll go with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Christian says. “You’ll stay right here with me.”

She gets that trapped look on her face again. “I—”

“I don’t trust you,” he says plainly.

“Oh, honestly,” Finnigan says in a huff. But he walks away to go find the source of the problem, so Christian can continue on his current line of thought.

“Surely the two of us can stand in one room for a few minutes without any trouble,” he says, resting a hand on his phaser to ensure that, if the warning in his tone is not enough, she will get the message.

“The two of us can,” she says, sounding defeated for the first time. “But your friend might find some trouble.”

As if on cue, Christian hears an aggravated yell from down the hall. He jumps into a turn to look, and levels his phaser at Derrick Finnigan. Their Engineering chief has his hands folded up behind his head, and has a muscular arm wrapped around his neck. An opposing hand is braced on the side of his hand.

Two more figures step out from behind the new hostage situation. At the sight of them, Christian’s spine stiffens and his blood boils. The folds of their broad eyebrow ridges and forehead identify them immediately as Klingons. The tight curl of their mouths and squinting of their eyes identify them as enemies.

“Brother,” the taller one says in a low, growling voice. “Why do you act so hostile towards us?”

“You’re the one who has grabbed my friend,” Christian counters.

“We noticed you were armed,” he says, his tone cool and friendly. “Call it an insurance policy.”

“Actually, my name is—” Finnigan starts before the arm tightens around his neck.

Christian’s communicator trills, and he nearly pulls a trigger.

“Captain to repair team.”

“You tell her everything is fine, friend,” the lead Klingon instructs.

“Rogues such as yourselves wouldn’t know,” Christian counters, “but you don’t lie to the captain.”

The second Klingon bursts into surprisingly high-pitched laughter, and Christian realizes she is a woman. The leader shakes his head with a smile on his face, too.

“That’s where you are wrong.” Holding a hand out, he says, “Captain Torleth, of the corsair Spearway.”

His fancy words don’t fool Christian a bit. These folks are pirates. They attacked the girl’s ship, for reasons yet unknown, though it was probably for the same old stuff. When they didn’t find anything, they busted it up and left her for dead. But what are they still doing here? If she didn’t have any valuables and she was doomed to die to space, why stick around? Why not warp out and move on to another target?

Christian doesn’t take the hand, but puts his own to his communicator. “This is Commander Christian. We’ve identified the source of the problem.”

Torleth’s partner lets out another shrieking laugh. “Oh, he’s clever,” she says at the end of it. “I might even want him if he wasn’t a twig.”

He feels his face settle into a familiar glare. “Maybe you wouldn’t be strong enough to survive a disfiguring virus in your childhood, but I was.”

A growl rips through her throat at the challenge, but Christian has to move on. Without letting his phaser drop an inch, he does his best to start negotiations.

“I’m guessing what you all really want isn’t me. What you want is a good payday,” he says. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t moved on. The girl wasn’t any danger to you, you disabled most of her systems. And since she has nothing of value… Why are you still here?”

Torleth’s face settles into a more serious expression—one that Christian suspects is more honest than the charisma he has put on. “She had a line to you. Surely Starfleet’s officers and ships have something valuable in their storage.”

“We don’t have anything while we’re being threatened,” he says firmly. “Why don’t you let the good commander go, and we can have a talk like civilized folks.”

“Garn’ul,” the captain commands.

“Captain!” the woman disagrees.

“We won’t get anything if we don’t give anything,” the captain says calmly. 

Privately, Christian agrees. This guy is surprisingly rational for a pirate.

As if in agreement with his captain, the third Klingon releases Finnigan abruptly. He bends over, taking deep breaths, and is quick to step away from his captors. He disappears down the way they came, potentially to escape or potentially to do his job and fix the ship. The important part is that he isn’t in danger.

Shifting his weight around—not quite taking a step, though Torleth shifts to circle him regardless—Christian takes a deep breath.

“All right. What do you want?”

—

Beth tells herself that she doesn’t need to know every detail of what is going on during away missions.

Dr. Agau would say that knowing all of the variables and gathering as much data as possible is an imperative part of the process, and she has never been wrong before, but Beth cannot force Christian to tell her anything he does not want to. The most she has gotten is that the problem has been identified.

Which, admittedly, is more than she got out of Hans.

Still, one sentence is not enough. Sure, the problem has been identified, but they had already known the problem. Her ship wasn’t functioning optimally. They are here to help. That should be the end of the story.

And yet, when Christian’s voice appears with, “Two to beam up,” his voice is ragged, hurried, everything a man in crisis would sound like.

Something deep within her, some sort of captain’s instinct, tells Beth that the two beaming up are not the two she sent down.

“Commander,” she address Hans, standing up out of her chair. He stands at attention. “I need you out of this room.”

“Captain,” he protests. “I know I screwed up, but you said yourself that we’re in a tense situation, don’t you think—”

She whirls on him, contorting her face into a momentary rage. “I said out!”

Hans’s mouth snaps shut, and he heads for the elevator. Finally. Christian didn’t specify where they were beaming into; if it is anywhere other than the transporter room, she will need her first officer to be around. If it is here on the bridge, it won’t do to have both leaders in the same place—not if Christian is bringing hostile parties on board.

An image flickers to life onscreen. Beth’s eyes snap to it.

It’s her Finnigan, with a strong arm around his neck and a phaser to his temple. He appears uninjured beyond the compromising situation he is in.

“You have reached Captain Agau of the Spark,” Beth announces, her voice cold. “We received a distress call, and have no quarrel with you. I can therefore not imagine the very good reason you have to be threatening one of my crew.”

She hears the elevator doors swish open and hiss close behind her, but she cannot break eye contact. The Klingon warrior hasn’t looked away; neither will she. Behind her back, Christian walks up and turns his back to the screen. His shoulder lines up with hers, so he can deliver his words quietly and keep his lips hidden.

“The girl’s being checked out in medical. I promised them some of that venom in exchange for her life; they insisted on keeping Finnigan as insurance.”

“I’ve told you my name,” Beth continues as Christian steps away. “Won’t you do me the honor of telling me yours?”

A second Klingon steps into view, a muscular male. “I am Captain Torleth, of the corsair Spearway, and it’s always a pleasure to make an acquaintance of a Federation ship.”

“You’ve done this before, then,” Beth summarizes.

“Gotta make a living somehow.” Torleth is apparently unperturbed by the litany of laws he breaks for this “living” of his. “I heard tell you have some mighty expensive venom on board. Now, I prefer to do this without loss of life, but I am also flexible. It’s really up to you.”

“I don’t do anything without ensuring the safety of my crew,” Beth announces. “Lt. Commander, can you confirm you are uninjured?”

“Captain,” Torleth says, his voice aggrieved. “You wound me. And by extension, you wound your own.”

A large knife appears, and Beth thinks quickly.

“We have only enough venom to give you the one dose,” she says.

Just as it was meant to, this captures Torleth’s attention. “What, just like that?”

“You have my crew at gunpoint,” I point out. “You have returned the other safely, and allowed us to keep the girl alive, as well. By all accounts, you have been generous thus far.”

“I’m glad you see the logic, captain,” he says, puffing his chest out.

Good, Beth tells herself. You want him feeling in charge.

“Now, if I may,” she continues, “I propose that the same tractor beam perform two functions. We can deposit the crate of venom in this ship’s storage section, and upon pulling the beam back, pick up our Finnigan on the way.”

The woman with the gun to his head speaks up. “How do we know you’re not cheatin’ us?”

Beth takes a step towards the screen, allowing a modicum of determination to show on her face. “If I my quote an infamous captain, you wound me, madam. Vulcans do not lie. We only have enough for you to take one, so one is what you will get in exchange for a perfectly intact crewmember.”

Torleth brings his hand up to his chin, contemplative. “Interesting offer.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth sees Matt turn to her as an alarm starts going off. “Captain, they’ve locked phasers on us!”

“Shields!” she commands, but Finnigan’s laughter interrupts before she can give any further commands.

The woman hasn’t let him go yet, but even she seems intrigued. “Oh, you rigged a signal to bluff your way in. Clever, I’ll admit that’s clever. But don’t worry, Captain, their weapons are disabled. My new friend and I made sure of that before—”

The Klingon captain lets out a roar, and whacks Finnigan across the face. Matt lets out a sharp cry, and Beth cuts the feed.

“What?” her ensign protests. “But—”

“If they start trying to leave, disable their engine,” she commands. Reaching up to her communicator, she gets the transporter room online. “Transport, I need my chief engineer back on board immediately, do you understand me?”

“There’s no guarantee I can grab only him,” comes the response.

“Commanders Hans and Christian are on their way to your room to contain anything that may happen,” she reassures them. Hans should be halfway there by now, and Christian leaves as soon as she includes his name. 

After another long moment of silence, Beth cannot help herself. “Do it, transport!” she commands. “Do it, now!”

[littlespaceporgs]

Omg some Rex fluff?? No 60 from prompt list one, “But I want to hear you sing.” Can you imagine Rex saying that?? So cute my heart 🥺🥺

A/N: Welp I had fun writing this, I’ve written it as a part ii to The Captain and The Medic - which if you click, it’ll take you to part i, but as I usually do, it can also be read independently!

The Captain and The Medic - Part ii

Word Count: 1.9k Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader Summary: You got reassigned as the new 212th medic, and during a new campaign, Rex gets injured. Chaos and stress ensues. Partly because of the 3 jedi who can’t seem to sit still.

Tags :DDD : @peacelandbread @valkyrieofthehighfae @mcu-padawan @catsnkooks @littlevodika @cherrykenobi @hounding-around @lesqui @captainrexstan

Medics were becoming few and far between as the war dragged out, even the Jedi healers were short-handed. It was for this reason that you were reassigned after a year and a half of serving with the 501st. Admittedly, you weren’t far, only going to the 212th.

You already knew a fair few members among the ranks, having to handle General Kenobi’s penchant for also never seeing a medic, something that the bastard well-respected Jedi Master had regretfully passed on down his lineage. You’d seen Waxer and Boil, when they returned with a secret small creature of some kind that needed medical attention, and you had a bone knitter on hand for Cody, who still had not shaken the habit of punching kriffing droids – which you had pleaded him to stop doing, if not for his own sake for yours, because using one of them was a rather tedious task.

It made for good entertainment, and it kept you busy, but it just didn’t compare to seeing Rex every day.

So when you were placed on the on the same campaign, excitement flooded through you, in the form of pure elation, drowning out the weariness of the amount of injuries that came with the news of a new campaign. That brings you to now, where you were waiting not so patiently with Cody and General Kenobi, expecting an arrival shortly from the 501st. Anakin Skywalker was the first off the ship immediately heading for Kenobi, with Ahsoka following half a step behind him. Ahsoka grinned widely and waved at you, and you let out a laugh at the girl’s antics. Giving a questioning glance to her Master, which he responded with a nod, she suddenly burst into a run, heading straight for you. You let out a low grunt when she smacked into you, and squeezed tightly. When Cody snickered, you silenced him with a quick glare.

“Hello, Commander Tano.”

“Hey Doc!”

General Skywalker nodded at you from where he stood with Kenobi, and pulling away from Ahsoka, you sent them both a curious glance.

“You lot haven’t been causing too much trouble for Kix while I’ve been gone?”

“Oh come on, Doc, we would never.” A new voice answered, unfiltered by the helmet he usually wore. You grinned and spun back around, to see your Captain stepping off the ramp, grinning all the while. You laughed and shot into his arms, smiling when he kissed your temple. Without hesitation, you took his face in your hands and kissed him hard. He grinned against your lips, technically neither of you were on duty yet. Your heart swelled in that moment, even seconds together – while not even close to being enough – after a few weeks made you almost blissful. He pulled away for a second, and tapped a finger on your wrist guard.

“Good to see you’ve replaced our stripes already.” He gestured to the newer, thick yellow line that was now painted next to the two blue, already starting to chip away after weeks of working.

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes and gently slapped his arm, you wanted to catch up more, fill him in on the past few days, but Skywalker interrupted the two of you.

“Alright lovebirds, sorry doc, but I need to steal my Captain away, you can have him back when this is over and done with.” You laughed, but leant up and pressed a kiss on his cheek before he started in the same direction as the General’s and Commander’s.

“Just make sure you return him to me in one piece please? ” Cody had whacked him on the shoulder then, and you grinned harder. “Oh, and Cody?” The Commander spun and looked at you, and took in your folded arms and disgruntled expression. “Do not punch any droids today, otherwise I can and will amputate your arm.” The poor man looked thoroughly disturbed as Ahsoka broke out with a bright grin and elbowed them both, and Rex spun and gave you a thumbs up, mid-laugh. He mouthed an ‘I love you’ and begun to follow after Kenobi and Skywalker, Cody and Ahsoka still trying to tease him. You watched as he shoved them back, as they disappeared down a corridor and out of sight. Despite the light-hearted nature of the interaction, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today would go badly.

 Your heart was racing when he was brought in. There was blood spilling from a gash on his forehead, and you could see when his chest plate moved with his breathing, it wasn’t quite right, rising in two separate motions. It had stopped you from moving, eyes staring after him as Kix started his work. Your muscles were begging you to let you run to him, to help Kix in anyway you could, despite knowing that he was a very capable medic, and no further harm would come to him here.

Your patient, who when you turned around was giving you an almost amused smirk under all the dirt that was caked on him, cleared his throat.

“You know, you could just go and help him, I’ll be fine.” You made a noise half-way between a sigh and a groan, before shoving your anxieties away. He’ll be fine. You had worse problems to deal with, like preventing a dumbass wise Jedi that didn’t know what taking care of himself first was from escaping the medbay.

“And leave you to try and escape again? No chance, General.” He flinched gently as you prodded his ribs, which you determined were likely broken on account of Grievous hitting him with a well-aimed kick. Kenobi feigned a confused look.

“I would nev-” You rolled your eyes before he cut himself off with a groan as you pressed against another rib.

“Yes, you would. You’re already going to be here for the night, don’t force me to make it two,” his smirk flattened as he gave you a blank look. “If I had half a mind, I would keep you here for a week, considering I’ve now had to deal with yours, your padawan’s and your padawan’s padawan bad habits of not coming to or just plain trying to escape the medbay!”

Hours later, once the sun had set, you’d finally gotten the stubborn Jedi to remain in place. Kix was around the medbay somewhere, and almost everyone in here was silent, in a dead sleep after a hard-fought battle. You’d started singing a lullaby in mando’a under your breath, hoping that actively thinking about the lyrics would keep you awake, even as your hands were trembling slightly and your feet ached. You wouldn’t have to stay in the medbay too much longer, Kix would wake up soon and take over the rest of the night shift, as all there is left to do in these hours is monitor heart rates and make sure those who were awake weren’t in pain.

You stopped by Rex’s side, looking up at the monitor, all the while you kept singing quietly. You looked down to your datapad to enter the reading, and noticed that the beeping of the machine had increased. Sure enough, when you looked again, his heart rate was much higher than what it had been earlier, on instinct you felt your own skyrocket at the thought of something being wrong.  You immediately stopped singing and turned to look at his face, where his nose was scrunched, and you could see the movements of his eye beneath his eyelids.

“Rex?”

And one of his eyes cracked open slightly, you sighed heavily in relief. He’s awake.

His mouth pulled into a soft smile to mirror your face, both of his eyes trying to blink the tiredness away. Your eyes began to water as you took a seat beside his bed, and took one of his hands in your own. Slowly, he squeezed back.

“Hey, cyar’ika.” His voice was gravelly and thick with sleep, but it was a good sign that he could recognise you and speak at all.

“Hello, my love,” You said, brushing your hand against his cheek, and letting out a quiet, airy laugh when he blinked slowly and leant heavily into your hand. He was quite possibly still feeling the effects of the pain medication he had been put on hours ago. You noticed his eyes started flicking around the medbay, darting from patient to patient. “Can you tell me what the date is and then what happened?”

Still blinking slowly, one hand rubbed his face, and the other squeezed yours again. He spoke the correct date and then began rattling off details about the mission, from Commander Tano running ahead and Skywalker nearly losing his mind at the teenager, all the way up until he very nearly got blown up. You took in a deep breath when he finished his recount, all his memories were intact.

You raised his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss across his knuckles. Tiredly smiling at you, he reached up and tucked a hair behind your ear. The relief you felt was palpable as he seemed to be mostly there. You stood from the chair, untangling his hands from your hair, and checking the box on the datapad, signifying no signs of serious damage. You stared at his face once more, eyeing the cut on his temple and just taking in all the details.

“Alright, Rex, get some more rest in please. You’re likely going to be cleared tomorrow, so you’re going to need to be in good shape.” He groaned and grabbed your hand again, moving his thumb in small circles. Okay, maybe he was still on too many meds.

“Riddur, you need sleep, and I have more patients to see.” In an unusual show of emotion, he pouted.

“But I just want to hear you sing?” You flushed, knowing that he had most definitely heard you when you first walked over. You laughed softly, and brushed his cheek again.

“Is that what it’ll take for you to go back to sleep?” He spent a second thinking on it, before he nodded once, barely perceptible if you weren’t standing beside his head. Definitely still feeling the after-effects of the meds. You leant down and kissed him gently, stepping back before murmuring the soothing words in mando’a. He sighed and his eyes slid shut, as you walked away, allowing him to drift off, listening to the soft-spoken voice that sounded like honey and reminded him of a home that he had with only one person.

BONUS:

“No, you are not cleared!”

“I feel fine-”

“That means the pain meds are working! General Kenobi, three of your ribs are broken, and literally every other rib is bruised!”

“Doc, I’m sure Obi-wan is-”

“No, Skywalker, he is not! My medbay, my rules! And my rule is that he stays until he’s healed!”

“We outrank you, you know that right?”

“Not here, you don’t!”

“But-”

“Don’t you start, I could confine you here as well! Don’t think I didn’t see you injure your shoulder!”

“Kark, nope, Ahsoka, let’s go.”

“Anakin!”

[impala-dreamer]

Ecstasy

SPN FanFic

~Sam's major headache leads to a major oops on Dean's part and some major fun for Sam.~

Sam x Reader, Dean

3,969 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Accidental Drug Use. Smut. Hair Pulling. Stoned!Sex

A/N: This will stand as my Free Square for @spnkinkbingo​ 2020. I'm doing "Hair Pulling Kink" bc Sam totally likes to have his hair pulled. ;) Hope you all enjoy!

2020 KinkBingo Masterlist ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon ~ Find My Original Works on Amazon

Sam pressed his forehead deeper into the ledge of his knuckles, hoping the pressure would distract his ears from the beeping and ease the headache pounding behind his eyes.

It did not.

“Shit.” Dean was across the way, kicked back in his chair, ankles cross on the tabletop, phone in hand. In between alternating whispered curses and victory cheers, his phone was making the most irritating bleeping noises. “Yeah, baby!”

A devastated and annoyed sigh filled the air and Sam let his hand fall to the table with a thud. “What are you doing?” he snapped, eyes wide, head shaking at Dean.

Green eyes popped up innocently. “Playing Tetris, what are you doing?”

Sam tossed his hands up and sat back. “I’m trying to work! Why is it so loud?”

“I don’t know, Tetris is loud.” Dean shrugged and hiss disappointedly as he put a cube in the wrong spot. “You’re distracting me, shut up.”

“I’m distracting you- I- what!”

A melodic whistle from the next room caught their ears and both boys looked up to see Y/N dancing about, shaking her ass as she cleaned up last night’s messy dinner. Headphones snug in her ears, she whistled along to the music as she picked up empty beer bottles and a few scattered napkins.

Dean leaned over the table to get a better view, humming in approval at the curves on display. “Nice.”

“Dean!” Sam scolded in a low voice, quickly looking away and back to his book.

“What? She’s got a nice-”

“Just stop it.”

Dean laughed and licked his chapped lips as he settled back in place. “I know you like her, it’s cool, man. She’s all yours.”

Sam’s spine straightened in defense even as a blush filled his cheeks. “She’s not- mine. What? I don’t-”

“Sammy,” Dean grinned, dropping his chin as his eyebrows rose knowingly. “You can’t hide this stuff from me. I see all.”

Sam cleared his throat and tried to end the conversation, ducking his gaze back to his text. “You don’t see anything. There’s nothing to see.”

“Lucky for you,” Dean went on, ignoring him, “she likes you too.”

“H-how do you know?” Sam refused to look up, but lifted his eyes slightly.

Dean sighed happily and puckered his lips. “Because she turned me down.”

That lifted Sam’s entire frame. “What!”

“I know, shocking, right? I mean…” Dean waved a hand down the length of himself Vanna White style. “How could she say no? But she did.”

“When?”

“Few months ago. We were working that case in Ossining- remember? And… we got a little buzzed and I made a move and…”

“Wow.”

“I know. It was a pretty good move.”

“No, not- I just- wow.”

Dean laughed and dropped his feet so he could lean over the table and lower his voice. “Look, she likes you. You like her. It’s cool.”

The tip of Sam’s tongue snuck out to hang on his lower lip as he looked a little to the left, contemplating Dean’s confession. “Huh.”

“Yup.” Satisfied that his point was made, Dean sat back and started the game again, bleeping away without a thought.

Sam soon turned back to his research, trying to forget what Dean had said about Y/N. If it was meant to be, it would be; there was no use dwelling on it, especially when there was work to be done.

Very time consuming, tedious work that involved translating handwritten Romanian from a faded text while listening to Dean's Tetris antics.

Thoughts of Y/N were soon drowned out by a sharp pounding in his left temple, and Sam gave up, throwing his pencil down like a gavel and leaning back. He clutched his skull and groaned.

“Dude, go take something,” Dean suggested after slipping a bar into place and clearing three lines at once.

Sam sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yeah. You want anything?”

“Nah. Awe, damnit! Freaking cube again!”

The farther from Dean he walked, the calmer Sam felt, but his head was still pulsing.

The kitchen was practically bare and no meds were to be found. Sam growled lowly as he shuffled back to the library and paused in the archway.

“There's an empty bottle of Excedrin in the pantry,” he said cooly.

Dean looked up from his phone with a lingering smile. “OK. Did you take some?”

“Empty. Bottle.” Sam enunciated each letter and Dean's smile fell.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Dean closed one eye as he thought up both an excuse and solution at once. “Uh, I think there's some Tylenol in my room.”

Sam grit his teeth and nodded curtly. “Thanks.”

A handful of little white pills later, Sam was back in his seat, head in hand, waiting for relief to find him. He cradled his head in his hands, fingers splayed across his forehead, eyes glazing over the words set before him. It was slow going.

“Hey, bros,” Y/N greeted, taking the seat next to Sam as she set down three beers on the table. “Whatcha doin’?”

Dean happily reached for a beer. “Beating my high score.”

Sam sighed. “Working. Or trying to.” He looked up to find Y/N watching him intently and it made his heart race. “What’re y-you up to?” He could feel his cheeks flush and Y/N smiled.

“Oh, big day for me,” she said, sitting back with a beer. “I cleaned the bathroom- gross by the way,” she said, casting an eye at Dean. “You know you can rinse out the sink after you shave. It’s not hard.”

Dean waved a dismissive hand and failed to flip a Z piece in time. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” She sighed and turned back to Sam who’s eyes had never left her face. “Then I did two loads of laundry,” she continued, ticking her chore list off on one hand. “Found my lost Blues Traveler tee- under the bed,” she added in a whisper, cupping her hand to her cheek as if it were a secret, “and just finished reorganizing 6A. Did you know we have jars full of random animal bones? Because...ew.”

Sam managed a daze laugh, but found it hard to look away from her perfect lips as they frowned in disgust. “Yeah. Bones.”

“So whatcha working on?” Y/N smiled and leaned over to look at his book, and Sam’s breath nearly stopped.

His eyes zoomed in on the delicate lines on her lips, the hint of teeth just between as she spoke, the way she bit the tip of her tongue just slightly when she smiled. His mouth was watering, his pulse pounding, so focused on her mouth as she came closer.

“Sam?”

Y/N laughed at his awkward stare and he nearly jumped out of his skin, startled back into himself.

“Yeah. Yes. Working.” He swallowed hard and shivered, prying his eyes from Y/N to the book. “Um… It’s-er- lore. From the- Romania on things.”

“OK…” Y/N shook her head at his ramblings and sat back, lifting the beer bottle to her lips. She puckered her mouth and took a delicate sip as her head tipped back, and Sam made a noise that turned all their heads, even his own.

“Dude,” Dean gasped across the table at the audible moan that pushed up from the back of Sam’s throat, and Sam quickly coughed, hoping to cover his mishap.

Y/N politely ignored the noise, turning her face away as an embarrassingly pleased smile tickled her lips. She took another drink, slower this time, and Sam could not stop himself.

His pupils went wide as he watched the muscles in her throat contract, as he saw her mouth move around the thick bottle neck. He groaned again and shifted in his seat, his pants growing tighter with unsolicited lust.

Dean sat forward and slapped a hand on the table to get Sam’s attention. “You OK, man?”

Sam startled and twisted in his chair, rubbing his damp palms over his thighs to dry them. “What? Yes. What? Why?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You’re all… shaky.”

Y/N, too, was watching Sam carefully. “And you’re sweating.” She put the beer down and leaned over, gently placing her wrist on Sam’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Her touch felt like lightning, his entire body sparking with the feeling of her skin upon his. His heart skipped too many beats and when it came back, it was frantic and loud, banging against his ribs. He closed his eyes, wishing it all away, but Y/N’s sweet voice tickled his ear.

“Sam, are you feeling alright?”

His stomach tightened and his cock jumped, painfully swelling against the roughness of his jeans. “Uh…” He shuddered and took a deep breath, holding it until his shoulders stopped shaking. “W-will you excuse me, please?”

Sam jumped up before she could answer, dragging the old Romanian book on gypsies with him, holding it over his crotch as camouflage. He ran from the room, and Y/N looked at Dean with worried eyes.

“Something I said?”

Dean chewed his lip, pondering the situation, and excused himself as well after finishing his beer in two long pulls. “I’ll be right back.”

Sam was in the mouth of the hallway, filling up the cavernous passageway with not only his height but his frantic movements. He paced back and forth across the seven foot wide tiled expanse, his teeth gnawing at the middle nail of his left hand.

Dean approached quickly but gently. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Sam skidded to a halt and turned on his heel, eyes wide, sweat glistening on his forehead. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t calm down. I’m like, my- with- and she- there was- I couldn’t sit there anymore. Do you know how soft her skin is?”

“Whoa.” Dean raised his hands carefully, trying to get Sam to calm down. “Reel it in, man.”

“I can’t. I can’t. It’s like my brain is jumping. And my heart is like- boom boom boom. Did you see Y/N’s lips on that bottle? Oh my god- it was like- wow.” Sam’s stomach flipped again and he bit his lip to keep in a moan. “What is happening!”

Dean shook his head, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you take?”

“Tylenol!” Sam snapped back. “You told me to take the tylenol in your room! Because somebody finished the Exce-”

“Oh...fuck.” Dean exhaled slowly and sought sanctuary on the ceiling, but found none.

“Dean…”

“Which bottle?”

Sam’s shoulders rose up to his ears. “Which bottle! The one in your nightstand. You said to take the Tylenol. I took the Tylenol. You said the one in your room. That’s the one I took. Why the fuck? What!”

Dean tread carefully. “Ya know, it’s no big deal,” he said with a fake laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

“What did you do!”

“I did nothing!” Dean defended, backing away slightly as Sam lurched forward. “You… may have taken some-”

“Some what, Dean?”

Dean let out a breath that rumbled his pursed lips. “Ecstasy?”

Sam’s explosion was instant and a little bit terrifying. The book dropped to the floor as both his massive hands rose to strangle the air in front of Dean’s face, inching ever closer to his actual neck. “What is ecstasy doing in the Tylenol, Dean!”

“You remember Chloe, right?” Dean said quickly, hoping to weasel out of danger with a memory. “The waitress from Lincoln with the sister who had the big…” He smirked, hands out and curved around his chest. “You remember. Anyway- I didn’t want to just leave it laying around so…”  

Sam’s jaw was near to breaking with how tightly he gnashed his teeth together. “So you put it in the Tylenol?” His voice echoed down the hall and Dean shushed him quickly, lest Y/N come running.

“I forgot, OK? I was drunk. Anyway, it’s old. That was like three years ago. You’ll be fine. Just...go lay down. You’re freaking vibrating.”

Sam spun around three times, tugging at his hair as his muscles twitched. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Go lay down and sleep it off,” Dean ordered, clamping a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re fine.”

“Remind me to kill you tomorrow.”

“Will do, buddy.” Dean patted his back and gave him a push, sending Sam off to bed. “Goodnight.”

The sheets were so soft, Sam couldn’t stop touching them. He ran his hands down across the mattress, feeling every single thread in the woven fabric, wondering if he could count them all if he concentrated really hard.

The pillow was cool against his cheek. It rubbed against his face, so soft and cool, wicking away the heat from his skin until it was warm and he frowned, quickly flipping it over to feel the cold again. It was amazing.

He was burning up, sweating and prickling with energy. He could feel every hair on his body, every cell was alive and moving. It was maddening and incredible, and he wanted… something. He needed...something.

Y/N knocked, but Sam was too lost in his own frantically dancing thoughts to acknowledge her. She opened the door a crack, peeking in just to make sure he was decent.

“Sam?”

He jumped at the sound of her sweet voice and turned over quickly, sitting up to face her. “Hey, Y/N/N.”

She stepped inside and kicked the door shut with a tap of her heel. “I just wanted to check on you,” she said cheerfully, tossing a water bottle at him. “Feeling any better?”

He missed the catch and the bottle landed by his side on the bed. “Uh, yeah. Good. Why? How are you? Are you ok?” He rambled while trying to pick up the bottle, immediately distracted by the weight of the water and the way it felt moving in his hands. He stared into the clear plastic and Y/N raised her brows in worry.

“What is going on with you?”

“It's like holding an ocean,” he mused, entranced by a bubble near the cap.

“Right.” Cautiously, she came close and touched his hand, moving it and the bottle away from his eyes. “Sam…”

The touch of her fingers on his made Sam's blood sing. His focus zoomed in on her delicate hand, the supple, soft skin, the dimples of her knuckles. He couldn't breathe for what seemed like forever, his lungs frozen, body void of all function except the nerve endings that sizzled with her touch.

“Want…”

She cocked her head at his faint whisper and moved her hands to his cheeks, looking him over with concerned eyes. “Sam, what's wrong? Tell me what you need.”

He took a quick breath and looked up into her eyes, losing himself in the heat of her hands. “I need…”

She leaned closer, wanting to help, scared of the wild look in his eyes. “Tell me. Anything you need, Sam. I'm here.”

His pulse was pounding, loud in his ears; his skin was on fire, stomach churning with nerves. He breathed deep, trying to calm himself but finding no point. She was what he needed. Always had been. “I need...you.”

Her breath caught and Y/N shook her head gently, in confusion not disapproval. “What?”

“You,” he said again, eyes looking deep into hers. “I need you, Y/N.”

“Are you-”

Sam laid his hands on top of hers, his eyes rolling a bit at the softness of her skin. “High? A little. Yeah. Dean and the- it's a long story there was a waitress with- it doesn't matter.” She let him ramble, amazed by the strange lightness of his voice. Sam stumbled over his own tongue, words spilling out before he could think them through. “The point isn't about the waitress. I had a headache and- Y/N… can I?”

She laughed gently. “Can you what, Sam?”

“I wanna kiss you. Can I- um...may I kiss you?”

Heart in her throat, unable to answer, Y/N simply nodded and chewed nervously at her lip, waiting for the kiss she'd wanted since the moment they'd met.

Sam's face lit up with a smile. “Really?” He moved his hands from hers to hover over her cheeks, unsure if he should let them land. He could feel the space between them, their auras touching, atoms ricocheting off each other in the tiny gap.

“Yes, Sam,” she sputtered in a whisper. “Kiss me.”

It wasn't a kiss, it was an explosion. Sam let go of every nervous doubt, every worry, every self conscious thought that had ever passed behind his hazel eyes and finally took a leap two and a half years in the making.

His fingertips landed on the apples of her cheeks and he pushed upwards, taking her lips without a second thought. The feeling was maddening and Sam sealed his eyes shut tight, enjoying the sensations sparking against his mouth. She breathed against him, parting her lips to snake her tongue across his mouth and Sam moaned loudly, his hands moving to grab hold of her neck and shoulders, pulling her down.

They fell onto the bed; sheet billowing around them as their bodies tangled. Sam kissed her again and again, unable to decide which kiss felt better: the quick press of warm lips, or a lingering, soft pull. When her tongue touched his again, he gave up trying to analyze and licked into her mouth like a starving man.

Y/N tried to roll off of his chest, but Sam followed her, turning onto his side so that as much of him was touching as much of her as he could manage. The very thought of moving his hands away from her body was sheer panic, and he clung to her with all he had.

“God, you feel so good,” he panted in between kisses, holding her close. He ran his hand up and down her side, marveling at the dip at her waist and the softness of her hips. “I never knew it could feel so good. Fuck. I…” His voice was cracking, nervousness creeping back into his mind. What if she didn't want more, what if she was just here because he was a wreck? His fingertips paused at the hem of her shirt, twitching as he debated reaching under the cotton. “Can I- I need to- feel you.”

Y/N kissed him hard and grabbed his hand, guiding it up underneath her shirt. Sam stiffened as she pressed his palm against her breast and he let loose a husky growl.

“Touch me, Sam,” she urged, squeezing his hand so that his fingers curled around her. “I want you to.”

He sighed against her lips and the animal inside took over. Sam lifted her with him as he sat up, quickly pulling her shirt off. He stared for a moment, stunned by the dip between her breasts and the soft mounds caged and held high by her bra. When Y/N unhooked the clasp and pulled the fabric away, Sam dove down, locking his mouth around her nipple, and feeling the flesh harden against his tongue. He hummed, feeling every dimple like a spark of fire on his lips, and he sucked hard, drawing a husky moan from Y/N.

“Fuck, Sam!” She pushed her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp. When he bit down on her, she yanked a fistful of hair and Sam let her tit fall from his mouth as his head flew backwards, eyes rolling as tortured pleasure spread through him like icy fingers down his spine.

“Do it again,” he breathed, chest heaving, lips wet and parted.

Y/N pulled his hair again and he let out a wail of desperation and sank back onto the bed.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, reaching for her hips to pull her close. “Everything feels so good.”

She wiggled her arm out from beneath his head and tossed a leg over him, straddling his trim hips. Sam looked up with dark eyes that struggled to focus, his lips trembling as she plucked his shirt buttons open. His hands traveled slowly up her thighs, massaging with unmappable touches as he tried to feel all of her at once. By the time his hands cupped her breasts again, Y/N had his flannel open and she bent down to lick at his chest while pushing the cotton further from his broad shoulders.

“Oh-my-god.” He was near to hysteria, every atom in his body craving more. “Please.”

The tip of her tongue flickered, hot, over his left nipple and Sam nearly roared as the sensation zapped through him. Y/N sat back then and rubbed her ass over his jeans, making his eyes roll back hard.

“I-I-fuck, please...” His jaw dropped as she rocked forward again, denim on denim, rough yet gentle; friction heating the air between them and making his cock swell even harder.

Y/N tugged her hand through his long hair once more, loving the silkiness between her fingers, the pathetic cry it pulled from his throat. “You need something else, baby?”    

“Need-”

She yanked the chestnut strands, winding her fingers around the soft locks until her knuckles grazed his scalp.

“Tell me.”

Sam opened his eyes, struggling to focus on her, panting as the pain spread like delicious fire across his skull. “Need to fuck you. Please.”

Another firm tug lifted his chin and Y/N kissed him hard, plunging her tongue into his dazed mouth, lapping at the stale taste of beer and mint that lingered on his tongue. “You sure?”

His head lolled to the side when her hand disappeared. “Yes. Please. Please.”

Zippers were ripped, buttons snapped and belts opened, drawers discarded. Sam could barely stand it. The slide of his own hands as he undressed drove him insane; the sight of Y/N stripping for him made his heart beat dangerously fast.  

Finally, she came back to him, hopping back into his lap, taking his lips again as she slid down, slowly impaling herself on his enormous erection. She inched down as gently as she could, holding her breath against his mouth as her cunt stretched for him.

Sam held on, wrapping his arms tight around her back, holding her close so neither would fall. His head was spinning, his blood rushing too fast, pounding in his ears.

“Please…”

“It’s OK, Sam,” Y/N whispered, kissing his cheek sweetly, “I got this…”

Dean tripped over his bootlace in the hallway but caught himself and laughed it off, thankful that no one was around to see his balancing ballet. Realizing he was putting himself in mortal danger, he finally shut down his game and stashed the phone in his back pocket, sighing as he said adieu to his high score.

“I could go professional,” he mused as he passed Sam’s room. “Do they do tournaments for Tetris?” He paused, scrunching up his nose as he thought about the ridiculousness of such an idea.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean spun on his heel and headed back to Sam’s bedroom, lifting a closed fist to knock on the door. “Do they do Tetris- oh...”

Just as quickly as he had before, Dean spun around again, this time smirking as the unmistakable sounds of fevered lovemaking made their way through the ancient door. Shaking his head, Dean made a mental note to ask Sam about his new money-making idea in the morning. That, and what he and Y/N had gotten up to thanks to his accidental drugging.

Dean laughed to himself. “Poor kid needs to be stoned to make a move.”

From behind the door, Y/N let out a wail, screaming Sam’s name without care.

Dean paused for a moment to listen, nodding proudly before heading off to bed. “That’s my boy.”

2020 Forever Tags: @67-chevy-baby​ @akshi8278 @akhuna01​ @amanda-teaches​ @because-imma-lady-assface​ @blondemarvelchick​ @blushingjared​ @broiderie​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @classic-rock-angel​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @covered-byroses​ @crashdevlin​ @deansgirl215​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deangirl7695​ @deanwanddamons​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @defenderrosetyler​  @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @edge-oftonight​ @emoryhemsworth​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @flamencodiva​ @focusonspn​ @herbologystudent252​ @heycasbutt​ @hornyandsmol​ @ilovefanfic86​ @i-love-superhero​ @ilsawasanacrobat​ @imjustadrummer​ @ivvitm1109​ @joseyrw​ @justagirlinafandomworld​ @justcallmeasmodeus​ @katymacsupernatural​ @laxe-from-outer-space​ @leatherandfrackles​ @lessons-of-red​​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @lonewolf471​ @maddiepants​ @mariekoukie6661​ @meganwinchester1999​ @missjenniferb​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @mummybear​  @onethirstyunicorn​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @starboycas​ @stephaniecanfield96us​​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @thebookisbtr​ @thehardcoveraddict​ @thevelvetseries​ @veevm​​ @winchestersister55​​ @wendibird​ @winecatsandpizza​ @winterpoohbear​

[pinkja]

Sports, Crushes, College and All Other Things Stressful (Nora x Black Female Reader)

AU where Nora is a stressed out college student and you are a simple black girl who has no time management.

Nora felt like she was a simple person.

She grew up in a small town near Salt Lake City, made it through the akward teenage phase, and graduated high school with honors.

Does it matter that she was always so close to pulling her own hair out in frustration? She doesn’t think so.

She liked to think that her high school years went swell.

She was captain of the swim team, played in both tennis, chess, soccer, and volleyball. She was also co captain of the debate team, won the Reading Bowl in TOME for three years in a row (she didn’t join freshman year) and did a bunch of community service at the homeless shelter every other Saturday from 9am to 3pm.

Yeah, Nora was a simple person, she thinks.

Does it matter that she barely had time to sleep? She doesn’t think so.

She got into college with a full ride scholarship (which her family celebrated for two days straight. It practically turned into a block party.) She was on the Pre-Med track, wanting to become a pediatrician like her grandmother had been, and like her mother had been, and like her older sister had been as well.

Wait…who exactly was she doing this fo–

Doesn’t matter!

She got to get an apartment on the campus housing first year with her best friend, Abby, who’s a biology major of all things, when Nora was pretty sure she was gonna be an English major. Her room was pretty average, but Abby often made comments about how it really needed some personality.

“You don’t even have a poster!” Abby remarked one day while she was laying on Nora’s bed. She had an old copy of Lord of the Flies in her hands, read and re-read about eight times.

“Not everyone needs a poster, Abby.”

“Yeah, they do. Especially when you don’t have a book or a video game, or even something to play music on-”

“Isn’t it enough that I have a phone?” Nora placed her head on Abby’s lap. Abby rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed so Nora would be more comfortable.

“And you had to beg your mother for it. Now hush and let me finish this chapter.” She leaned against the headboard and made a comment about how she was going to buy her a poster for Dirty Dancing or something.

Now that freshman year was almost over, and tennis season for the school had started up again a month prior, Nora, being captain of that and many other teams, was starting to feel even more stressed. She has to aid the coach in training the less athletic recruits, plan their next meeting, and prepare for their next game which was in two weeks, which was a few days before a big biochemistry test.

She was out by the track, the slightly warm early April air hitting the side of her sweaty face after almost an hour of staying out in the sun. There was another hour of practice left, and with a clipboard, a pen, and a timer in her hand, she watched the baby-faced girls run laps around the field.

“Ok, the game is on a Saturday, it takes around 30 minutes to get there by bus, so 30 minutes to get back… but the game ends at 6:30 so I have to give at least another 30 minutes to an hour for traffic, not including the time it takes to shower and pack our stuff up so the latest I’d get home is around…” She looked up from her clipboard, tapping her feet on the floor. “Jackson! If you want to play in the next game you gotta beat your record! Pick up the speed!” She called out to a red haired girl.

God, I really hope I’m not sweating out my hair, she thought, brushing a few stray hairs back in her ponytail. Nora went back to muttering.

“Ok so that means I’ll be home by 8 at the latest, and if I lock myself in my room and pull an all nighter, I could probably get all my studying done by 6-ish? Maybe… I would have to stock up on coffee. I’ll stop by the store on the way ho–”

Nora’s quiet rambling was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey, Captain!” Nora didn’t turn around, already knowing who it was by the voice alone.

(Y/n) (L/n).

Ah, Nora’s feelings for you were…complicated, to say the least. But we’ll get to that later.

“Sorry I’m so late.” You rubbed the back of your neck with a sheepish smile.

“Fourth time this month, (Y/n).” Nora’s voice was stern, exasperated and a bit annoyed.

“I know. I know, but–”

“You know the drill. 10 extra laps and you have to beat your record or else you don’t play in the next game. Go.” Nora didn’t look up from her clipboard, but knew you were pouting anyways.

Your footsteps echoed in Nora’s ears as you ran to the field, smiling at your teammates as they passed you. She marked off your name on her clipboard and wrote “Late” next to it, again, with furrowed eyebrows and annoyance tickling the back of her brain.

When 4 o’clock came, the girls all filed out of the field and towards the locker room, feet tired and sore. You were still running, of course, doing the 10 (plus 10 extra) laps you were assigned. Although you weren’t, Nora felt like you were taking your time, acting as if you hadn’t a care in the world.

“God, I have to get home and study…” Nora whispered and rolled her eyes, even though only 5 minutes had passed. By 4:15, you were done, walking back to her while rubbing your left thigh.

“How’d I do, Captain?” You asked while wiping the sweat off of your forehead. You balanced yourself on the balls of your feet. Nora clicked the button on her timer once again and finally looked at you.

You had sweat stains on your blue shirt, and you picked at the edge of your shorts that rode up your thigh just a little bit.

“Two minutes under your last time. I guess you get to stay in this time around.” Nora said curtly, pursing her lips while doing so.

You smiled as if you already knew the answer. “Aw come on, Captain. Have a little faith in me, yeah? I’m not all bad.” Your nose scrunched you as you pouted.

God your lips were so cu–

“But I do stink though. Imma hit the showers real quick. You coming?” Nora gulped, mind going a little to the left as she snapped out of her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Was all Nora could say in response.

They walked into the locker rooms, all of the girls clean and gone. Nora placed her things on one of the benches, opening and looking into her locker for clean clothes. You did the same.

“Jeez, all that time I put into doing my hair only to sweat it out in less than 10 minutes. I don’t know how you do it, Captain.” You remarked, looking in the mirror of your locker. Nora hummed, but didn’t respond. She grabbed some fresh clothes from her gym bag and started stripping.

Nora peeked into the mirror in her locker at you. Yours was diagonal from hers. You were still looking at yourself, not at her. Part of her wanted you to be.

Once she was done, she wrapped a towel around herself and grabbed some soap and a rag. She showered in silence, only being interrupted by the pat pat of your footsteps on the floor as you hopped in the showers next to her. You tied your hair up and put a bandana around your head before starting the shower, and Nora looked away before she could see anything else.

She thanked whatever god there was that there was a wall between you two.

But what if there wasn’t?

Nora started to feel very self-conscious all of a sudden. She started to take note of the stretch marks and too thick hairs on her stomach and arms and legs.

Oh my god, is my hair presentable?

She went to smooth out her hair with a (thankfully) not soapy hand, but stopped herself. She wouldn’t want to ruin her hair now. She spent all morning getting it together.

Wait? Why am I worrying about my appearance? My body is fine.

After her little realization, Nora started scrubbing really hard at her arms and legs, preoccupying her mind with the upcoming test.

Nora finished before you did, wrapping a towel around herself and waiting until she was out of your sight to start drying herself. She put on some lotion and deodorant, got dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a green shirt and sneakers before grabbing her stuff and going to leave.

“Captain!” Your voice stopped her.

Dammit! She was almost free!

“Yeah?” Nora took a few steps back but didn’t look in your direction.

“Can you…um…stay?” Nora’s spit got caught in her throat. “I mean, until I’m done. I really don’t like being in the locker room by myself. My mom always told me don’t let myself be in a room alone.” You let out a laugh, albeit a bit nervous.

Nora nodded, spitting out a stuttered, “Sure.” She hopes she didn’t sound too excited. She leaned against the outside wall of the showers, facing away from you once more. Nora waited (im)patiently, suddenly remembering how she forgot her glasses at home and that’s why she hasn’t been able to see well all day. She also remembered the stain on the coffee table that she was too busy to clean up because she was rushing out of the house because she had slept through her–

The squeak of the shower faucet snapped Nora out of her thoughts as the rush of water stopped. Nora kept her eyes on her shoes as you passed her, suddenly very interested in the speck of dirt on the toe of her left shoe.

I should clean it later, Nora thought.

“Captain?” Nora’s head snapped up, looking towards you with large brown eyes. You brought a plump lip into your mouth before giving Nora a smile. You were done getting dressed, snatching the now-wet bandana off of your head.

God, is it hot in here? Nora feels like she’s been sweating oceans.

“Thank you for staying. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

“No problem.” It’s not like she doesn’t have a test she has to study for or a meeting at 6 for a club that she really couldn’t remember the name of now which was really concerning, but Nora couldn’t bring herself to care because you were smiling at her and Nora’s heart was not working anymore.

Although part of her wanted to be mad at such a carefree attitude and your seemingly lack of schedule, she settled on scolding you instead.

“Practice is next Monday at 3. Try not to be late next time.” You nodded before grabbing your stuff from the bench behind you and walking out of the locker room in silence. Nora followed before you both split off in different directions.

Nora’s weekend was filled with nothing but meetings and studying and homework, with the constant repetition of “Game on a Saturday, test on a Monday” leaving her mouth. She started her mornings at 4 am, going for a 2 hour run around campus. At 6 she went back home and took a shower, answered a bunch of emails about things that Nora couldn’t bring herself to care about anymore, and then she spent a good 3 hours studying old material from her classes, read a book she was assigned for Lit, then she was back studying again.

Wait, did she eat anything?

She wouldn’t have if Abby hadn’t practically shoved a piece of turkey bacon down her throat because, “You literally haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon” which she should be grateful for her friend’s willingness to remember the important things for her when she forgot them. She had meetings for Spanish and French Honor Society, Creative Writing, the school’s green club, and she also had to tutor a bunch of kids who were failing their math classes.

And to top it all off, you were late to practice, again! God, Nora wanted to be mad at you. You were being selfish at this point. Didn’t you know that if you were late she had to stay with you until practice was over?

Well, technically, she didn’t. She could leave practice whenever she wants to but honestly she didn’t want to leave you to practice alone. Plus, you might slack off!

Nora’s eyebrows twitched at the thought. It’s like you didn’t have a care in the world! You just walked around wasting her time, your time even!

You arrived 15 minutes late, better than last time, but still late.

You were already preparing your excuses, but Nora shushed you, telling you to go and practice on your serves. You did just that. Nora had already completed her drills, now just waiting for you to show up. She wrote your name down and the word “late” next to it once again before she went back to observing her team.

Once 4 o’clock rolled around, the girls rolled out and into the locker rooms, while you stayed behind. Your serve was good, Nora thought, you were just a heavy hitter and would forget to try and get the ball into the court first.

After watching the ball fly past the court for the 3rd time, Nora sighed and made her way over to you. You spotted her and gave her a smile.

“Hey, Captain! You need something?” You asked as you threw the ball in the air. You hit it across the net and watched as it flew straight into the wall. You grabbed another ball from the basket next to you and went to do it again until Nora gently grabbed your wrist and pulled it back down.

“You hit too hard, (Y/n). Try it again, but with a little less force.” Nora stated, backing out of the court to watch you once more.

You tried again, only for the ball to land just outside of the court.

“That’s ok, (Y/n), just try again.” Nora encouraged you. You tried again and again, only for you to keep hitting it out of the court.

You let out a huff, frustrated. “Captain…” You whined, turning to her with dragged feet. “This seems pointless. I just keep hitting out of bounds.” Nora raised a brow, not taking you for the type to give up so easily.

“You know we can’t leave until you get it right.” You pouted at her answer before going to try again. Nora stopped you, walking up to you and grabbing the hand you were holding your racket in. “Here. Make your hand face the net. That always helped me serve better.” Nora turned your wrist. “Now plant your feet so they’re in line with your shoulders.” You listened. “Now breathe in, slowly, and as you breathe in, toss the ball into the air and as soon as you exhale, swing. Don’t focus on the force. Focus on how your hand moves to hit the ball.” Nora realized how close she was to you, how weird this must’ve looked to others and what they might think.

She was starting to get self-conscious again.

Nora cleared her throat and backed out of the court again. Once she was far enough, you served again, the ball just making it into the court. You jumped up in excitement, coily hair bouncing with you. Your eyes darted towards her, a wide smile on your brown face.

“Captain! Captain I did it! Did you see?” You spoke with the giddiness of a child with a new toy, and, suddenly, Nora’s anger at you disappeared. Nora nodded with a smile.

“I saw. Good job, (Y/n).” You smiled wider at her praise, going to pick up all of the balls you managed to drop. Nora helped.

After cleaning up the mess you made, you both walked to the locker rooms. You repeated your routine from Friday, with Nora finishing earlier than you once again. Nora remembered how you had asked her to stay, and decided not to leave you behind. She walked to her locker in silence, getting dressed in some jeans, a graphic tee, and her same pair of sneakers she always wore before leaning against the walls of the showers like she did once before.

She was still facing away from you.

“(Y/n)?” Nora called, despite the lump in her throat about having to talk to you while you were naked.

“Yeah, Captain?” You answered, stopping the humming you were previously doing.

“May I ask, um, why are you always so…late?” Nora tapped her fingers on the wall and hoped she didn’t offend you with the question.

You were silent for a moment before answering. “I just lose track of time, y’know?” Nora’s eyebrow twitched again. You spoke as if you knew what she was thinking. “Yeah, yeah. I know that’s not a good excuse. However, I get so caught up in the little things that I just forget to remember the big things.” Another twitch of the eyebrow.

God, was it gonna get stuck like that?

You turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself as Nora moved to sit on the bench. She preoccupied herself with her shoes again and waited for you to get dressed. The buzz of your phone interrupted the silence between you two. You grabbed it from out of your locker and looked at the bright screen before scowling and placing it back in your bag.

“I wanna know, Captain.” You started, as you put underwear on. Nora cursed the human evolutionary habit of looking at anyone and anything that made noise, as she had turned her gaze towards you as you were putting on a dress and oh my goodness you weren’t wearing a bra. Nora’s face burned as she quickly turned back around to look at her shoes. “Have you ever had Mr. Lance before?” It took a few seconds for Nora to register your question, and once she did, she shook her head no.

“U-Um… no. No I haven’t, um… Why do you ask?” Preoccupy yourself with the test, Nora. Focus on the test.

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“I wanted to thank you for once again putting up with me and helping me in practice. Other captains would’ve just left me there.” Now she felt bad for thinking about leaving. “You wanna go?” You turned to her with another smile, not caring that Nora wasn’t even facing you.

“You don’t have to. It’s really no problem.”

Game on a Saturday. Test on a Monday.

“Come on, Captain. Please. I promise you it’ll be worth your time!” Nora finally gained the courage to look at you, and you were pouting. Good god you were pouting and it was so adorable and Nora really has to learn how to focus again.

Game on Saturday. Test on Monday.

Nora was in a trance. Your eyes had caught her in a trance and she couldn’t get out but she had to. So she agreed to your little adventure. You jumped up again in excitement and Nora was once again reminded of the fact that you don’t have on a bra. You both walked out of the locker room and you led Nora down the street to one of the coffee shops about 7 minutes away.

“Mr. Lance is just a few minutes from here.” You started as you put your phone in your bag after checking it again. “And I know the name seems kinda boring, however, they serve the best ice cream there is.” You gave Nora another beaming smile to reassure her, even though Nora didn’t need any reassurance.

Once you both arrived at the little parlor, you opened the door for Nora and she was immediately hit by the cool air and the smell of mint. Nora scrunched up her nose a little bit and sat at one of the red chaired booths. You sat opposite of her and folded your hands on top of each other.

“What do you usually get here?” Nora asked you, pushing her glasses up to her face.

“I either get the triple chocolate milkshake or the extra cookies and cream ice blizzard. But that’s my personal preference. Get whatever you want.” You said nonchalantly, not even looking at the menu.

Would it be too embarrassing for Nora to admit that she didn’t know how to choose? Nora thought that yes, it would be. However she couldn’t just not order something after you had brought her all the way here. That would be rude! But it would also be rude to sit there and order something she wouldn’t want and then sit there and pick at it because she had never really had time to–

“And what about you, miss?” Nora jumped at the voice. She looked up from her death match with the colorful menu and at the waiter who was standing there with a notepad in her pale hands.

“Uh…oh! Oh! I would like a…” What the hell was that first thing you said? “A triple chocolate milkshake, please.” Nora’s face burned at her awkwardness. Maybe she didn’t leave that weird teenage phase at all.

“Coming right up! I’ll just take these off your hands.” The waiter grabbed the menus and walked off to the kitchen.

Nora tried to act like she didn’t feel your gaze on her while you waited, and felt grateful when your phone buzzed for the third time that afternoon.

“Guess I’m popular today, huh Captain?” You let out a chuckle as you turned your phone off.

Nora smiled back and she hoped it wasn’t crooked.

You pulled at a curl on your head and frowned. “I’m so glad tomorrow is wash day. My hair’s been so uncooperative lately.” You pulled at the same curl again and watched as it bounced back into place. “Captain.” You called her. Nora answered. “What do you think I should do with my hair? Twists or plaits? Ooh maybe I can do box braids instead.” You shot out ideas to her, hoping she would choose and make your life a bit easier.

“Um… I think you’d look good in–in twists.” Frankly you would look good in anything.

Wait, what?

“Don’t you have to set out the whole day for that? You have classes tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I have one class in the afternoon but it shouldn’t be a problem. I can catch up easily.” You said nonchalantly.

She looked at the clock on the wall to check the time. 5:45 p.m. She cursed how fast this day was going.

Their treats came a few minutes later and you popped open your straw and dug in. Nora did the same, eyebrows raising at the onslaught of very, very sweet chocolate attacking her taste buds.

“See. I told you it was good!” You said, licking a little bit of chocolate off of your lips. You swirled your straw around your glass. “I’m glad you decided to come with me, though.” You said offhandedly.

“Why did you decide to bring me here?” Nora didn’t mean for her voice to sound all nervous. She would roll with the punches.

“Hmm. I already told you earlier that I wanted to thank you for putting up with me.” You took another sip and stuck your tongue out a bit. “But also, and forgive me if I seem rude but, I thought this would relax you.” Nora raised an eyebrow. “You always seem so…pent up. Like a stiff. I just noticed that you might need some sort of release or something, Captain. That’s all.” Nora realized that you were the only one to address her as Captain after practice, and in that moment she started to feel very…different.

Was she uncomfortable?

No, Nora wouldn’t exactly describe it as that.

It was just that the heat creeping up her neck and the sudden realization that you were right and the idea of getting some sort of release, as you put it, was making her feel very, very weird.

It didn’t help that Nora’s gaze went back to your lips and eyes and hands and chest and the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra hit her again and–

Why the hell was she so focused on that? Of all the damn things to focus on? It’s not like the concept of not wearing a bra was foreign to her, she did it from time to time herself but what the fuck was so different when you did it?

Focus on something else, Nora. Focus on something else.

Like the test!

She had a game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on a Saturday, and a test on a Monday.

Game on Saturday, and boy were your eyes cute.

Game on Saturday, test on a Monday.

It’s not like she had a problem with it.

Game on Saturday, test on Monday.

She was fine. Nora was so fine. Nothing to worry about here.

Maybe she did need a release. A time for herself to relax.

Game Saturday, test Monday.

Oh god was she staring at you?

Game, test. Saturday, Monday.

Were you smiling at her? You look so sweet.

Monday. Saturday. Monday. Game. Test. Relax. Release. Relax. Relax. Game. Test. Saturday. Monday. Relax. Release.

Her glass was empty and you were smiling at her and UGH.

Nora stood up, her knees knocking into the booth as she did so.

“Is everything alright, Captain?” You expressed concern over her. Your eyebrows furrowed as your smile went away.

“I gotta go.” Nora managed to choke out. She reached into her back pocket for her wallet as you stared at her with confusion.

“What? Are you sure?” Nora threw $20 on the table and grabbed her bag from the floor.

“Yeah. I gotta… I gotta go…” Nora turned and sped out of the shop, leaving you alone.

She made it back to her apartment and unlocked the door with shaky hands. Abby greeted her from the couch, hair in a low ponytail instead of its usual braid.

“Hey, Nora you–“ Abby stopped herself when she finally looked at her roommate. “What’s wrong?” She turned to her and grabbed her before Nora could sped past the couch. “Come on. Around the couch you go.” Abby pulled Nora by her belt loop around the couch and made her sit down. “What’s up with you. And don’t say you have another test to study for because you’ve already studied enough.” Nora scrunched up her nose and looked away from Abby.

“There’s no such thing as too much studying.”

“Nora…” Abby’s voice was stern.

“Fine, fine… There’s this… this girl and she… she said I was a stiff and treated me to ice cream today and I can’t focus around her and also I can’t stop thinking about her and also–” Nora plopped herself face first into Abby’s lap, groaning loud enough for her roommate to hear.

“Does my Nora have a crush?” Abby teased at her, poking the back of her head. Nora sprung up.

“What! No! Of course not!” Abby didn’t believe her. “I just can’t focus around her, that’s all. And it’s frustrating me.” Nora defended herself, slumping against the couch.

“Hmm. Sounds like a crush to me.” Abby retorted, leaning her head on her hand.

Nora couldn’t have a crush! I mean, when has Nora ever had time to think about crushes? Or dating? Hell, with boys or girls!

“I don’t have time for crushes, Abby.” Nora slumped some more until she sat on the floor.

“You don’t have time for anything, Nora! All you do is work, work, work. And I know we’re in college but that doesn’t mean you have to give yourself to the seeds of capitalism just yet.” Abby kicked Nora in the thigh as a way of telling her to get off the floor.

Nora got up with a pout.

“All I’m saying, Nora,” She started, propping her feet on the coffee table, “is that maybe this could do you some good. You got to enjoy life, and you can’t enjoy it if you’re stuck hunched over a book all day.” Nora rolled her eyes before retreating to her room to take a cold shower.

The next morning, after her 4am run and a long shower, Nora got dressed for the day and sat down at her desk to study. She didn’t have any classes today, her professor for the day sending out an email to cancel class the night before. She opened the giant biology textbook that never left her desk and tried to remember where she had left off last.

I was writing notecards, she remembered as she searched her desk to find them.

Her search was interrupted by the loud ping of her cellphone. Nora chose to ignore it, thinking that it was probably just Abby trying to remind her to eat something. Her phone vibrated again and Nora rolled her eyes with a loud sigh and got up to check it out.

She walked over to her bed and picked the phone off the pillow, squinting her eyes at the sudden light hitting her face as another notification came.

“Hi, Captain!” It was you. You texted her.

Oh my god you texted her!

“I know you said only to use your number in case of emergencies but I guess this would qualify as an emergency because you kinda left in a hurry so!!!”

“Are you ok, Captain? I wanted to check up on you afterwards but I didn’t know whether you’d want me to use this number or not so I didn’t text you but I didn’t know what happened and I was getting nervous so I texted you.” God did you ramble.

“Sorry for rambling.” You sent a few seconds later. You added a crying emoji for effect.

It was then, in that moment, that Nora realized she didn’t know how to respond to you.

Why weren’t her fingers moving?

Why was she just staring at her phone with a stupid face?

Move, dammit! Move!

With a deep breath, Nora let out a big, long groan of, “ABBY!” Said friend was at her door within seconds, hair in a frenzy and protein bottle in her hands, ready to attack someone.

“Nora! Nora what is it? Is someone dying?” With wide eyes, Nora handed Abby her phone, to which Abby lowered her guard and grabbed it out of Nora’s hands. “Nora are you fucking kidding me?” Abby deadpanned after reading the messages, seeing it was only someone expressing concern over her friend and not like…cyberstalking her or some shit.

“I don’t know what to do please help me.” If Abby wasn’t so mad at her she'd tease her for her inexperience and compare her to a lamb. Abby flopped on the bed with a groan and started typing away.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” Nora asked frantically as she tried to snatch the phone out of her hands.

“I’m replying. Duh!” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, but Abby! What are you saying to her?” Nora whined, attempting to grab it again only to fall on Abby’s lap.

“You know, for someone who denies that this is a crush you aren’t really helping your case all that much.” She continued typing, and Nora thought that whatever she was typing would be long and embarrassing and stressful.

“Abby!” Nora dragged out her name as she tried to reach for the phone again. “Come on! I know you’re gonna put something embarrassing!” Nora gave Abby a pout and made no move to move off of her friend.

“I’m not! I swear!”

“Then read it to me!”

“What?”

“Read what you wrote to her!”

“Ugh, you’re so childish.” She said as if she wasn’t the one typing something to Nora’s…Nora’s…well…Nora’s whatever. “Hey, (y/n).” Abby paused. “Such a cute name by the way. Good choice.” She continued. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me. I was wondering if we could meet up later and–” Nora started to protest, reaching up for the phone. Abby held it away from her. “And I could, hey quit that–” Abby smacked her hand away. “I could explain why I’ve been acting so weird lately, if that’s alright with you–Nooooooo.” Abby whined like a child when Nora snatched the phone away and deleted the text message. “All my hard work! Wasted! Oh the inhumanity!” Abby fell on the bed, fake fainting.

“I don’t wanna meet her.” Nora muttered as she stared at the phone with a glare.

“And why not? I told you, this is good!” Nora looked at her in disbelief. “This is good! You need a break, Nora. If you don’t slow down now next time you have time for yourself you’ll be a bag of bones!”

“Not a bag of bones…”

“Yes, a bag of bones! So you are going to take this phone, text this girl back, and you are going to talk to her or by god I will throw your planners away. And I know where you keep them. All of them.” Abby pushed the phone up to Nora’s face.

“Even the Scooby Doo one?”

“Especially the Scooby Doo one. That goes first. Now type.” With a cry and a wail about how hard Abby was making her life, Nora started texting you back, giving the phone to Abby for approval.

“Hey, (y/n).” She started typing. “Abby please don’t make me do this.” Abby didn’t budge. “I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me. I promise I’m ok and you don’t need to worry about me–”

“Don’t put that. You're invalidating her feelings.” Abby interjected.

“…I’m happy you checked up on me. If you want I’d like to meet–”

“Abby I’m nervous! Please can’t I just go back to studying?” Abby told her no.

“…up with you again. Maybe sometime this afternoon. Or whenever you want to it doesn’t have to be today it could be tomorrow or next week or–”

“You’re stalling.” Abby warned her, already reaching for her Scooby Doo planner hidden under her mattress.

“…Is this afternoon good?” Nora closed her eyes and hit send.

You replied within a minute.

“Sure! How about around 5. I should be done with my hair around then.” You sent a bunch of emojis afterwards and Nora plopped down in the bed with a groan after she agreed.

“See? You see how good things go when you listen to me?” Abby put the almost destroyed planner back in its place and patted Nora on the head. Nora groaned even louder. “Now. I want to know what time you’re going so you can have time to look nice.” Abby added emphasis on that last part. “And I mean it. No sweatpants or oversized jackets. I want you looking nice.” Nora’s face dropped at Abby’s constrictions.

“You’re already making me suffer by going outside but now you’re making me dress nice? You’re killing me, Abby!”

“No, I’m helping you. Now hold on for a second. I need to text the group chat about this historical moment.” Nora's eyes widened as she watched Abby get up and run back to her room before she could stop her.

When 4:30 rolled around, Nora patted herself down nervously and stared at Abby with a confused face.

“Come on, Nora. You look fine.” Nora stared at herself once more, her black jeans, light blue t-shirt and black shoes seeming too…boring for this.

“I-I don’t know, Abby. Maybe I should just cancel and say I got sick. Is it too late to hit myself with something?” Nora held her purse in shaky hands.

“No! You’re doing this. Now come on.” Abby dragged her from out her room and to the living room, where their friends, Manny, Owen, and Mel were hanging out and watching tv.

“You guys! Abby’s forcing me to go outside! Help me!” Nora tried to plead as she dragged her feet on the floor.

“Hmm… I don’t see a problem with that.” Manny spoked, looking at her with amusement clear on his features.

“Yeah, Nora. Owen and I for sure thought you were going to turn into a vampire or something if you stayed inside any longer.” Mel agreed while Owen nodded his head.

“That’s not how vampirism works and you know it!” Nora planted her feet into the ground and groaned. “Owen! Hide me! Help me! Save me!” Nora pleaded as Abby pushed her along to the door.

“Sorry, Nora. My expertise is animals not humans.” He said with a shrug and put his head on Mel’s shoulder.

“Traitors! Traitors! All of you!” Abby finally got her to the door and pushed her out with a huff.

“You be back no earlier than 6. Got it?” Abby ordered. Before Nora, could protest, Abby interrupted her. “If you wanna save the Scooby Doo planner you better start walking.” Nora closed her mouth and glared at her before calling her a muscle head and walking away. She heard the chorus of bye’s and have fun’s as she walked down the hall. You both had agreed to meet up at the campus park, and as Nora walked up, she saw you sitting on the bench with a book in your hands. Nora recognized it as Pride and Prejudice, something Abby had read a thousand times.

You looked up and spotted her. With a smile, you said, “Hi, Captain!” You placed the book beside you and waved at her. You had twists in your hair, and it went down to just below your shoulders.

“Hey, (Y/n).” Nora sat down next to you and placed her hands in her lap.

“I’m glad you decided to meet up! I was really worried about you yesterday.” You tried to keep the smile on your face despite the concern present.

Nora’s face burned as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that I…um…” Nora couldn’t really explain herself in that moment.

“No need to explain yourself, Captain. I’m just glad you’re ok.” Your smile never faltered and Nora decided to smile back.

“But-But thank you! For, um, taking me to the ice cream place yesterday. I really appreciate it.” Nora didn’t know why she was stuttering so much. If the group were here they’d be laughing at her.

“No problem. I like going there a lot. Not just for the treats but…it’s calming. Gives me time to get away.” Your phone buzzed and you checked it with a frown.

“Is everything alright?” Nora felt kinda sad when your attention wasn’t on her.

“Yeah. It’s just my stupid ex.” EX? Ex as in ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend? Ex-partner? Oh my god what was Nora thinking? She didn’t have time for crushes! Let alone any time for exes or dating of feelings or–

“Hey, Captain.” Nora perked up.

“Y-Yeah?” She could run. Nora could run and hide and go back to the apartment Scooby Doo planner be DAMNED.

“You remember when I told you about getting caught up in the little things?” Nora remembered, yes. “This is one of those little things. Just relaxing in the park, or going to the ice cream parlor, or staying after practice with you.”

Wait, what? Nora must’ve misheard.

“I could never share those little things with anybody else. Not even a person I had thought I liked. But I can with you.” You turned to her with a smile, moving a stray twist from out of your face. “I’m glad I was able to show you the things that relax me. Hopefully, Captain, they can relax you too.”

“Nora.” She blurted out.

“Hmm?” You titled you head to the side.

“You can call me Nora. I-I don’t mind.” You smiled at her, and Nora started to feel her heart burst in her chest.

“Ok…Nora.” Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Nora liked you.

Holy shit. She liked you.

“I-I’m glad you thought about me so much.” Nora played with her fingers as she spoke.

“Well, Nora. How about we go see a movie? I hear there’s this new mystery movie that’s so intense that people lost their senses when they left the theater!”

Nora laughed at your giddiness.

“Sure. I’d like that.” You stood up and grabbed your book to place it in your bag. You held out your hand to Nora and she took it, although a bit hesitantly.

“Cool. Let’s go, then.”

Maybe, just maybe, Nora could learn how to handle a crush this time around.

[henrycavell]

homecoming part 2

summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone.

word count: 1,899

pairing: Syverson x OFC warnings: none

authors note: this is another slow/kind of boring chapter!! sorry, i don’t want to make these chapters very long because i know when i read fanfics i prefer shorter chapters soooo, but i promise next chapter is gonna be sad and probably hurt your feelings <3

taglist;  @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​ ​ @80scavill​ @kaatelyyynn

PART 1 | PART 2

So the first meeting with Syverson could've gone better. Penelope had better first impressions with Aika than the with the former captain, but she was determined to turn things around. Returning to his home the next weekend, Penelope knocked before letting herself in, multiple grocery bags hanging from her arms. "Hey!" Her voice echoed quietly in the hall, the only response she was given besides the sound of Aika's nails hitting the wooden floors as she came running down the stairs. Making a mental note to schedule her an appointment with the groomers', Penelope brought the groceries into the kitchen, setting them down on the table. 

Syverson's pick-up hadn't been in the drive today, but Penelope didn't think on it too much. Beginning to take the groceries out of the first bag, Aika went running up to the back door, placing her paw up near the door knob and whining. "Need out, girl?" Penelope asked, setting down the coffee she held in her hands. Before letting Aika run free in the backyard, Penelope checked to make sure the gate was secure and then disappeared back inside to continue putting up all the groceries she'd bought. Every few minutes, Penelope would raise her head to look out the window to make sure Aika was still in sight. She couldn't help but feel on edge, she was still in a complete stranger's home and it was even worse when she knew he was out. 

Her gaze moved around the kitchen, noticing a thin layer of dust on the window sills and in the back edges of the counters. The floors looked like they could've used a decent mopping and there was a small pile of dishes in the sink too. Checking on Aika once more, Penelope moved to open the back door and decided to leave it open, allowing the dog to decide when she wanted to come back in. Placing her phone on the kitchen table, Penelope played her favorite band as she moved around the kitchen, starting with wiping down the counters and sweeping, before making her way to other rooms in the house. 

♫ We get colder As we grow older We will walk So much slower ♫

Making her way down the stairs after cleaning in every room upstairs, Penelope held a basket of dirty clothes on her hip with the intention of taking them to the laundry. Aika sat at the foot of the step, with her leash in her mouth, her head cocking to the side when the two made eye contact. "What's up, Aika?" Penelope asked, stepping off the last step before reaching down to take the leash from the dog. "You wanna go on a walk, huh?" Dropping the basket by her feet, Penelope knelt and clipped the leash to the dog's collar, holding it tightly in her hand as she opened the front door. "Okay girl, c'mon!"

Syverson had been gone most of that morning and afternoon to a psych appointment. He hated Friday mornings for that exact reason, twice a month a doctor sat across from him and tried picking his brain apart. And then by the end of the appointment, usually his meds were switched around, doses were changed. It was all such a big headache. Shutting the door behind him, he let himself slump against it, his shoulders drooping as he waited to hear the sound of Aika's paws hitting the floor.

Except he didn't. And the air around him had a slight scent of lemons to it. Pulling his brow together, Syverson stood up straight again and looked down seeing a laundry basket that he surely hadn't left there. "Aika?" No answer. Even though he was telling himself not to panic, Syverson could feel his heart start to pound heavy in his chest. Moving through the house, he stepped into the kitchen and saw things had been moved around, the dishes had been washed and new things sat on the counter like a fresh loaf of bread and a new box of cereal.

"Penelope?"

Still no answer. Sliding the back door open, Syverson stepped out onto the porch and called once more for his dog before his hands started to shake. Panic ran through every vein as he turned on his heel and returned back into the kitchen. If he could've just paused, taken a deep breath and just thought logically for just a second, he would've realized there was nothing to worry about. That it was obvious the volunteer from the VA had been here, that Aika's collar was missing from next to the front door, that they were just on a walk. But the only thought running through his head was that Aika was gone. Just gone.

Just breathe, he told himself, forcing his feet to carry him into the living room where he sank down on the couch. He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling as he took in deep breaths through his nose, trying to focus on how his chest would rise and fall. Closing his eyes, Sy told himself to wait, to try and relax before he spiraled out of control.

Penelope had only taken Aika for a short walk around the block. It had only been about ten minutes after Syverson arrived back home that they came in through the front door. The door shut behind Penelope and Syverson rocketed up off of the couch in the living room, no longer able to listen to the voice in his head trying to calm him down. Penelope unlatched the leash off of Aika’s collar, and the second she was free, she darted straight up to Syverson, whose entire body was tense and rigid. She licked his hand, but he didn't respond, instead, glaring a hole into the side of Penelope's head, waiting for her to give him her attention. When her eyes lifted to meet his, he launched straight into screaming. "You don't take my dog anywhere!" He stepped forward, backing Penelope up against the door. Aika whined, laying down in the floor on her belly, hiding her eyes behind her paws.

Caught off guard, Penelope pressed her back up against the door, lifting her hands up by instinct, her eyes widening in fear as Syverson seemed to grow in size, bulking up on her. "What’s the matter? I just took her for a walk-"

"I don't care!" Syverson shouted, feeling like his face was on fire, sure that it was blistering red. He didn't trust Aika with anyone, certainly not a weak looking thing like Penelope. Syverson only knew Aika to listen to him and he didn't even want to think about half of the horrible scenarios running through his mind had she broken loose from the girl. Aika was more than just a dog to him. Hell, Aika was the only thing keeping him alive, especially on his bad days. His hands tightened into fists by his sides, veins popping out and running up his arm. Penelope could feel her heart hit her stomach, watching the anger on the man's face as his chest swelled. "Get out," he growled.

"W-what?" Penelope frowned, pulling her brow together as she looked down at his fists. She could feel her heart in her throat, wondering briefly to herself if he was the type to hit a woman. His fist alone seemed like it was the size of her head and she didn't really want to think too hard on how it might feel to be hit by a man his size. Aika was getting back to her feet, coming up behind Sy's legs, nudging her head against his knees in an attempt to comfort him, hoping it would help him to cool down.

"Get. Out." His voice had lowered now, though Penelope could still hear the exasperation in his voice. The man took a step back, his hand reaching down to scratch behind Aika's ears, trying his damnedest to get himself under control. Penelope felt frozen, her feet glued to the floor as she felt hot, burning tears in her eyes. For the last few hours she had worked hard around his home, nearly finished with everything besides his laundry. "Don't make me tell you again, girl!" Syverson stepped back towards her, feeling his anger spike once more. The sharp gaze he gave her was enough to startle her into jumping forward, slinging the front door open.

He slammed the door closed behind her and she heard the locks falling into place. Her hands were trembling as she looked over her shoulder towards the front door, slowly moving off of the porch. This time, Penelope had no intention of coming back. There had been plenty of times where she found herself in arguments or uncomfortable situations with other veterans she helped, but never had she felt directly threatened. Penelope kept her head down as she hurried to her car, not taking a second glance back.

That evening, Penelope had been quick to submit a report on Syverson, detailing his sizable outburst and how she had felt threatened. One of her counselors had asked if she felt comfortable continuing to see the former captain and she had answered no. 

"I'm sorry this happened," he sighed, closing Syverson's file and pointing towards the door, seeing Penelope out. "I'll have you a new client on Monday morning." 

It didn't feel good giving up on someone, but she told herself that she had to put herself first, her safety first. Penelope had never found herself in a situation with a man where she felt in danger, but now when she closed her eyes, her brain was just sending her into what if circumstances, the image of his tightened fists and clenched jaw permanently etched into her mind. Penelope just nodded, trying to keep her head held up as she left the counselor's office.

Out in the hall, she was having a hard time shaking this sinking feeling she had, like guilt was already beginning to eat her alive and she had only made her decision mere moments ago. Heading out into the lobby, Penelope stopped by the front desk, leaning her elbow against it and letting out a heavy sigh. The receptionist, a girl named Katherine, looked up at her and gave a confused look. "You alright? Ready to sign out, girly?" At the same time, a psychiatrist came walking up to the desk to check back in from their lunch hour. 

"Not really-" Penelope sighed, hearing her phone ding in her pocket, but for the moment, she ignored it. "When do you get off today? Wanna go get drinks?" she asked, picking up the pen to scribble her name on the sign-out sheet. 

Outside, the sun was already beginning to hide behind the horizon and storm clouds were rolling in. There was a heavy scent in the air, like the smell right before it rains. Penelope had been disappointed to hear that Katherine was pulling a double shift as she sank into the driver seat of her car. It seemed like she was heading to the bar alone.

Ding! Her phone went off a second time, reminding her of the message she had ignored only a few minutes prior. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the the name that popped up on the small screen.

𝚃𝚎𝚡𝚝: 𝟽:𝟸𝟹𝚙��� 𝚂𝚢𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛.

[dirtymindedwriting]

The Science TA

You were so excited that the teaching assistant for your biochem class wanted help. When he asked you to help with his lab work. The chance to spend time with the hottest grad student in your department. The chance to be his lab assistant, spend some time with the rising star, maybe even flirt a little. You were even more excited when he told you it was help in the off site lab where the trial meds and chemicals are made. No other people around on the weekend. The idea of him pulling you aside and kissing you deep, all while pressing you against the wall. You could feel your dirty thoughts rising, but you had to remind yourself not to get ahead of yourself. But you couldn't help be excited, and willing to help. You didn't even notice the odd taste of the bad coffee the lab coffee maker made. You didn't even leave when you started to feel strange. The difficulty focusing, the constant dirty thoughts. Your mind going more and more blank to everything but getting fucked. You barely heard him as he spoke.

"I'll be right back, I need to grab some tools"

You barely mutter out a meek "okay" as he heads out the door. The door closes and you start breathing heavy. Your hands instantly slide down your pants and pull your shirt over your tits. Your right hand, playing with your nipples. You can't believe how sensitive your nipples are, your tits feel like they are swelling, huge and firm. Your pussy is drenched, soaking the cute blue panties you chose. Your fingers teasing your pussy and clit hard and fast. Your mind going blank to everything but the idea of stuffing your wet hole. Looking around the lab for something, anything to stuff inside your tight pussy to get some relief.....

"I take it the new batch of meds are working...."

You turn around, fingers still inside your pussy. The dreamy TA watching you drive your fingers inside yourself. You should be embarrassed. But all that happens is you can't help but push your fingers deeper inside your pussy, dripping everywhere as he watches.

He begins to smirk and speak "the meds make your sex drive increase. The last version was an increase of 4 times. I'm curious how much this one has increased it." He begins digging in his bag, continuing to speak, even as your mind goes fuzzy again. "All science should be documented" he says. The camera begins recording. The sensation keeps growing as he walks closer.

"see it also undoes inhibition, releases all the blocks on whatever dirty, slutty fantasies you may have. And then there is the increased sensation from touch...."

The second his finger touches your nipple, a jolt shoots through your body. You collapse against the lab table. Your fingers fall away from your pussy, still spasming in orgasm as he picks you up and drops you on the lab table. You are still shaking as he drops to his knees and brings his hands to your tits as his tongue begins to flick over your clit.

The orgasms come instantly. Your pussy squirts all over his face, but he doesn't stop. Your mind goes blank, your base desires fully taking over. You barely hear the words you are moaning, even now sounding like a stranger. Begging him for more. You keep cumming. And with each orgasm he pushes you further. His tongue on your clit, then fingers inside your pussy. By the time he begins sliding his finger in your ass you not only need it, you need more. You beg for more. Beg for him to stretch your pussy. Beg him to fuck it raw. Begging for cum as you orgasm again and collapse to the floor.

As you lay there, gasping for breath, he looks down at you and issues a simple command.

"Strip. Now"

You begin tearing at your clothes, throwing them off, your panties clearly soaked as you slide them off. He simply watches, sitting in the teachers chair of the lab, as you expose your naked body to him completely.

"interesting. The obedience level is quite impressive in this batch. Now crawl over her."

You drop to your knees and hands and crawl to him. He says nothing as you come to a stop. You know what he wants, and your pussy is aching again in anticipation. Your hands fumble with the zipper and belt. You can see the outline of his hard cock in his pants. You want it. You need it. You pull at the pants and boxers.....

And it springs free from his pants. His cock is larger than you have ever seen. Thick and long and already harder than you could have imagined. The veins in it pulsing, the whole length it throbbing.

"you didn't think I just made meds to affect women did you? Increased length and width, multiple orgasms without stopping, and a 200% increase in load size for everytime I cum."

The words barely register in your brain as you admire the cock. You can't help but stroke it. As you run your tongue along it, your only concern is getting more. Your mind tells you that you exist to please this cock. Serve it. In whatever way it wants. Your mouth opens wide and you begin sucking his cock. Your mouth barely fits around its width. The more the cock fills your mouth the wetter your pussy gets. Dripping. Your right hand strokes the shaft of the cock as you take more and more of the cock inside your mouth and throat, your left hand sliding down to tease your clit and pussy. You are so focused on sucking the cock you almost miss the sounds of his moans as his hand finds your hair. His moans grow louder as he forces you completely down on his cock. Shoving it deep in your throat. You gag and drool but can't help but cum again as you feel his hot cum shoot down your throat and deep inside you. Filling your stomach with hot cum. You can barely breathe as the hot cum keeps flowing from his cock. Only after the last drops shoot out does he pull his still hard cock from your throat and mouth.

He wastes no time in lifting you up and bending you over the desk, grabbing your legs and spreading them wide. You feel the tip of the massive cock against your pussy, wet and tight. You beg and whimper as your hands reach behind you, grabbing your ass to spread your holes wide. The words coming from your mouth are beyond anything you could ever imagine yourself saying.

"please. Pound me. Fuck me raw, ruin my slutty cunt and flood it with cum. Use me, shove your huge cock inside me and fuck me deep and hard and fast. PLEASE FUCK ME!!"

As you finish screaming the last words his hands land on your hips and you can't help but moan louder and sluttier than any porn as he shoves that massive cock inside you. Your pussy stretches beyond anything you have ever experienced as you cum instantly. You can barely even focus on spreading your pussy as he begins to thrust. Pulling his cock out all the way to the head before pounding it back inside. Building up speed and force, until he is pounding your pussy like a jackhammer. Every slap of his balls against your clit sends shocks through your body, making you aware of every inch of his meaty cock inside you. Your mind loses the ability to count your orgasms. You don't hear his grunting grow more rapid or vocal. You don't feel the cold of the table on your nipples. You lose track of time. The only sensation is the feeling of that cock pounding your pussy. Your pussy tightens again, and you can feel his cock swell inside you. His moans break through the haze in your mind as you feel his cock erupt within you. Hot loads of cum, one shot after another, flood your pussy, squirting out and falling to the floor. He still is cumming even as you collapse to the floor and his thick ropes of cum shoot over your face and tits and ass. The last thing you notice before passing out is him aiming the video camera at you. And somehow you know that he is filming the look of slutty bliss on your face.

You didn't remember getting dressed, or getting back to your room. You almost believed it was maybe even a dream. Until the package came. A simple box. With a single DVD, a new thick dildo, and a note.

"Good morning,

Figured you might want a copy of your trial as our test subject. Start training your asshole for the next trial. The study will be the effect of multiple stimuli on the test subject.

...and don't forget to take your meds....

And as if on cue, a small pill falls from the envelope into your lap.

[monikafilefan]

seven years

This is an answer to a couple different anon prompts from a long time ago mixed together. One with Maggie finding Scully’s journal and seeing what she’d written to Mulder. The other prompt was for Mulder to spend a lot of time at Scully’s place after “all things.”  

tagging @today-in-fic 

*

Margaret Scully considers herself to be a great many things in life. She’s a conservative woman of God who has quietly voted democrat since the day she said “I do.” A loyal navy wife who has worked her slender fingers to the bone as a stay-at-home mother of four; a stickler for rules who occupies her time spent alone with a well-kept home; a grandmother who loves to spoil her grandbabies with cookies before dinner and always reads “just one last story, Grandma” at bedtime.

She also considers herself an excellent judge of character and has learned over the years when not to pry in the private lives of others without invitation. Though she cannot say she has never let curiosity take over and wishes her children would invite her in to visit those hidden recesses of their minds once in a while.

But blind is one thing she is not.

Arriving at Dana’s for a quiet Mother’s Day brunch after church today has only confirmed her long-lasting suspicions of the current relationship status between her daughter and Fox Mulder. One look at Dana’s flushed cheeks and swooning smile as she utters her partner’s name across the kitchen table would have been enough to satisfy Maggie’s curiosity about whether or not her daughter has finally embraced what lay within her heart.

Yet, there is much more to be seen here than a meaningful smile and pink cheeks.

And Maggie sees plenty.

A pair of men’s running shoes - size twelve - sit snugly by her daughter’s size sevens. A large leather jacket that smells of familiar cologne is slung over the coat rack by the door, only partially hidden by the sweater she’d gifted Dana four months ago on her first birthday of the new Millenium. There are two mismatched mugs resting next to the coffee maker, two toothbrushes inside a cup in the bathroom - bristles touching in comfortable ease - and two towels hanging dry over the shower door. The entire bathroom smells of men’s body wash.

A new development seven years in the making.  

Maggie dries her hands at the sink and shuts the bathroom door, smiling warmly as she goes.

“You need help cleaning up, Dana?”

“No.” She shakes her head and turns the water off in the kitchen sink, soap bubbles rising above the dirty plates as she wiggles her rubber-gloved fingers. “I’ve got it, Mom, today’s your day. Why don’t you take a seat in the living room? I’ll make us some tea and we can talk.”

It’s her day, too, Maggie thinks, but will never say. There will always be an ache in her heart at the thought of her child unable to raise one of her own, yet her pain is one she soothes regiously on her knees come Sunday morning.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m fine.”

Maggie eyes the paired coffee mugs once again and taps each one with her manicured nail, giving her daughter a chance to open up if she so chooses.

“Do these need to be washed, too?” she asks, knowing good and well that they do not.

Dana’s blue eyes widen as they flick to Maggie’s but replies with a casually dismissive, “No. I cleaned them this morning,” before resuming her scrubbing. This time, Dana does so with a renewed flush and a bitten lip.

“That’s good, honey,” Maggie says with a reassuring squeeze to her daughter’s shoulder, but cannot resist adding, “It’s good to spend mornings with those you care about,” as she turns to leave her with her thoughts.

As Dana finishes with the dishes, Maggie allows herself to admire the intimate details of her daughter’s home - now that she knows for certain with whom she’s been sharing so much of it lately. Her slender fingers trail along the bookshelf, scanning the titles of anatomy books, several science journals in which Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD has been published, and some classic novels she recalls her freckled nose being buried in over the years. All are in alphabetical order. So very Dana.

She chuckles and her eyes catch on a leather book that is not neatly tucked in line with the rest. It’s black with golden letters etched on the cover that simply says “Journal.”

Curious, Maggie holds the journal close and contemplates on whether she should peek, selfishly hoping that more than just the surface-level emotion her daughter allows her to see might reveal itself.

Yet, the thought of betraying Dana’s trust unnerves her. Her daughter trusts so few these days.

As she firmly decides to return such private thoughts to where she found them, she notices a piece of yellow paper slipping out of its back pages. Maggie quickly tries to nab the square bookmark so Dana wouldn’t lose her page due to her mother’s intrusion when the spine flips wide open, fanning out words of heartache her eyes simply cannot unsee.

And every word is intended for someone else.

To whom it may concern,

To my family,

Dear Mulder,

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The luminous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth, but only in its passage. I feel these words as their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you’ll read it and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other…

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie exhales through her fingertips, hesitantly scanning the pages scrawled in intimacy with watery eyes.

...Mulder, if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done. And though we’ve traveled far together this last distance must necessarily be traveled alone...

Months spent watching helplessly as the bright light of life burning within her daughter slowly faded more and more each day was the hardest thing she as a mother had borne. Watching and waiting for what many thought was the inevitable is something she would never wish upon anyone. And here she is, sneakingly seeking some sort of deeper understanding of what her baby girl has endured.

...Mulder, I feel you close though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful, more than I could ever express. I need to know you’re out there if I am ever to see through this...

Maggie sighs and swipes at a tear hovering along her lashes, hands shaking as she adjusts the book to replace it, when the piece of paper floats to the floor.

Bending down to retrieve it, the journal pages flutter open across her lap to another time in Dana’s life. Maggie’s chin quivers at the words displayed before her.

Dear Mulder,

There was a time in the not so distant past when I told you I was throwing this journal out. That I chose to leave my moments of weakness in the past. But the time has come to admit to myself that losing my only child, my daughter that was never meant to be with you by my side, only confirms that the ache of what lies within my heart is meant for you to bear along with me. That this time, the distance must necessarily be traveled together…

Maggie gasps at the strength and conviction laced within her daughter’s words. The raw heartache Dana must still feel after burying a piece of herself is a familiar one Maggie does not have the strength to re-expose.

But her baby has not experienced it alone; she’s had her partner, and that has been enough.

Her eyes burn and a hot tear rolls down the swell of her cheek, splashing onto the next page before she can stop it. Pinching the tear-stained paper between her thumb and index finger, she waves it through air in hopes of drying the smeared ink before she shuts the book. As she does, Maggie turns the page fully and sees a single sentence hastily written over and over with what she recognizes as fierce emotion pouring from her child’s fingertips.

Dear Mulder,

Personal interest is all that I have. Personal interest is all that I have... Personal interest: it’s something I’ll always have, even if I should not.

“Oh, goodness.” She should not be reading any of this. If Dana wants her to know what secrets lie in her heart, she will tell her.

Maggie picks up the yellow paper next to her feet and immediately realizes it’s more than merely just a bookmark. It’s a note addressed to “Scully” that’s written in fresh ink and time stamped for today’s date.

I never imagined you’d invite me to see your private thoughts you’ve kept so well guarded over the years. I’m truly grateful; for your loyalty, your trust… for you, Scully. More than words can ever express.

Sniffling and riddled with guilt, Maggie slips the note meant for her daughter to read in private back behind the journal’s last written entry. This time, Dana’s greeting to the man she’s clearly been loving from afar for years is a very different one.

To my constant, my touchstone...

Maggie quickly shuts the book and stands, heart racing at her lack of self-control as she places the leather bound memento back on the shelf.

She has known for years that her daughter loves her partner a great deal, and that he loves her just as fiercely in return. She’s not an oblivious woman and never has been.

No, she thinks, as her eyes scan the room once again to land on a lone photo of Dana and Fox standing close together at a crime scene, staring into one another’s eyes, blind she is certainly not.

“Mom, I have tea brewing if…” Dana enters the room and stops a foot away as she takes in the likely overwhelming expression on her mother’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Maggie swallows a lump in her throat and smiles softly at her daughter across the room. Suddenly she sees the tomboy with wild red hair and dirty knees; then the teenage girl with freckles and braces kissing a boy on their front porch. She sees a proud Dana graduating with honors and jumping head first into med school, only to be eagerly recruited by the FBI. She then sees that pride and determination focus on a quest that Maggie will never truly understand, but she doesn’t need to.

No, Fox Mulder is the reason Maggie now sees a real and fulfilled happiness on her daughter’s face for the very first time.

“Nothing, honey. Nothing at all,” Maggie assures, and she means it.

Dana cocks a brow - just like her father used to - and points to the kitchen. “Okay, well I’ve a kettle on the stove if you want some tea.”

The house phone rings before Maggie can respond and Dana stares at it carefully, as if considering whether or not she should pick up. At the fourth ring, she gives in and answers with a breathy, “Yes, Mulder?”

Maggie smirks, silently moving about the living room to gather her things.

“The audit has been moved up? To tomorrow?” Dana huffs with her back turned, tapping her nails along her desk. “Isn’t this a little short notice coming from Skinner?”

Walking into the kitchen with her purse and sweater slung over her arm, Maggie removes the teapot from the burner before it screams for attention. She pours her daughter a cup the way Dana likes it and sets it on the dining room table as she finishes her call.

“Yeah... yes, I can do that,” Dana murmurs, failing to fight off a smile before swiftly hanging up. “I’m sorry, Mom I-”

“Have to go?”

“Mm,” she confirms and darts her gaze out the window. Maggie knows the summer sun is only partially to blame for the glow on her Irish child’s porcelain cheeks. “Something like that.”

“Fox needs you.” A question isn’t needed this time and both Scully women know why.

“Yes,” Dana draws a deep breath and nods. “It looks that way.”

Maggie has seen more than enough today to know that it’s always been that way. And when her daughter finally looks at her again, Maggie is staring at her gleefully.

“What, Mom?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dana runs her tongue across her upper lip, expectant. “You may as well.”

Maggie shrugs nonchalantly, openly grinning now with a motherly confession perched at the tip of her tongue. 

“I may be near-sighted, Dana, but I’m not blind yet,” she teases, reaching up to cup her daughter’s reddening cheek. “Not blind at all.”

*

side note: Mulder leaving evidence of his weekend sleepovers at Scully’s is a little slice of head canon happiness I like to cling to pre Requiem. I do however believe the evidence shows he moved in with her after he came back in “deadalive,” just not beforehand.