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alwaysthebiggerbear · 25 days ago

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"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: When Sam calls to tell you that Dean is gone, you can’t accept it. Not until you visit the offline Bunker and see for yourself. …But is he really gone?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Dean Winchester x Huntress!Female!Reader A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. I had this idea for a scene in my head that took place during 15x20 with the reader and Sam & then from there it just kind of wrote itself, including the semi-twist. There is a song mentioned in here (“Is This Love” by Whitesnake) which is a sort of homage/dedication/thank you. I read this Dean x Reader fic a long time ago (I can’t remember the name of the fic or the author right now, I’m sorry!) but they used the song for some Dean/Reader time in the Impala and I had never heard the song before so I checked it out. I have become obsessed with it. It’s so perfect, not only for Dean but in general as an 80s love rock ballad. So thank you to that author whoever you are! This is meant to take place between mid-15x20 and Dean’s foray in The Winchesters (pre-series). Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Warnings: angst; mentions of character death; mentions of implied sex Word Count: 12k+ First posted on here: 1/1/24 dividers by @firefly-graphics

You sat on the corner of the bed in your motel room, numb, your phone next to you, having been forgotten long ago.

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. You refused to believe it. How was Dean just gone? On a simple hunt? How?

Sam had called you to give you the news. You could hear the breaks in his voice as he relayed what happened, sounding as if he had been crying just a few minutes before. Vampires. Who were mute. A gang of them run by a vampire named Jenny they had faced off with years ago. On a hunt with John. She had gotten away and they thought she was gone for good. Apparently not.

You were frozen, in shock, unable to process what he was telling you.

“Y/N?”

“I… I need to see him,” you whispered.

Sam was quiet for a moment before he forced out, “I gave him a hunter’s funeral.”

You shut your eyes in pain. “What?” You could feel your throat tightening as well as your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I had to. I couldn’t…” You heard him take a breath. “I couldn’t make the long drive with… I just couldn’t.” You could hear those breaks again and you should have been hurting for him, that not only did he have to watch his brother die but he’d had to burn him alone. But right then you got angry and you couldn’t help snapping at him.

“Why would you burn his body, Sam? You know we need his body to bring him back!”

“Y/N, he didn’t want to be brought back.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yeah, I do. He told me right before he died. As long as I was going to be okay,” Another break. “He was done.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and regret immediately consumed you. You knew Sam was telling you the truth. Dean making sure Sam would be okay as he was dying clinched it for you. Sam had always been his main concern. You started mentally berating yourself then. If only you hadn’t let fear stop you, you could have given him something to live for, to fight for. He would have let Sam call for help, call Jack, something. He would have made sure he somehow made it home, just like he always did. But you didn’t and now, he was gone. Truly and irrevocably gone.

Another tear slipped down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away. “I have to go, Sam.”

“Y/N, I—”

You ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed. You weren’t trying to be heartless. Sam was obviously struggling and you should be there for him. That’s what Dean would want, you knew that. The two of you being there for each other, helping one another, you looking after his little brother while he looked out for you. But you just…couldn’t.

Why hadn’t you called Dean? After everything that went down with Chuck and Jack? Why hadn’t you reached out? You owed him that at the very least. So why hadn’t you?

You knew the answer to that. You were scared and like a coward, you’d told yourself it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wouldn’t have changed anything. But a part of you knew it would and that scared you just as much.

You thought back to the last time you’d seen him, right after he and Sam went to try to get Amara on board against Chuck. He was still reeling with the news that Cas had told him before he’d left, that Jack was going to sacrifice himself to kill Chuck. He cared about Jack, more than he let on, even though the kid had accidentally killed Mary. Jack was family to him and he was having a serious moment of doubt. If Jack’s plan would work; if he should let it happen; if he should tell Sam; if Chuck hadn’t been right, he would win in the end. He was so beyond tired of that: Chuck winning. He didn’t want to sacrifice Jack but if they could be free of Chuck and have a chance…

He was torn up about it and he’d called you, asked you where you were, then begged you to come to the Bunker when he found out you were only an hour or so away. You hadn’t wanted to, you could hear the desperation in his voice and you knew all too well what would happen if you went. You were still hurting and you didn’t know if you could survive that.

You didn’t bother telling him that the reason you were an hour outside of town was because you’d temporarily settled there, not sure where to go or what to do. Sure, you took on hunts here and there, but ultimately you were lost. Ever since Dean broke things off with you because he couldn’t tell what was real anymore versus what had been Chuck all along. The breakup had hurt, of course, but that caused pain in you that you weren’t really sure you would ever come back from. Him thinking everything between you might not be real? After you’d given him everything you could because you deeply loved him? In your heart, you knew it was real, but when you had said this to him, he’d simply responded with “I don’t” in his typical detached way he adopted whenever he had made up his mind that he had to do something for the greater good, no matter how hard it might be. You thought he had already broken your heart, but it shattered right then in your chest.

Since it was Dean, though, and he never begged, you went. And sure enough, what you worried would happen, happened. One minute, you’d been wiping the rare tears he let fall around you, and the next minute, he was kissing you and gently pushing you back onto his bed. You could feel the desperation in his movements, his touches, the way his lips trailed over your skin. Shockingly, he took his time with you, and it only hit you halfway through that this was his real goodbye. It wasn’t guaranteed that Billie’s plan would work but he hoped it would. And if it did, then that meant he and Sam would finally be free and they could hang it up if they wanted to, do something else with their lives and move on. And that possible future didn’t include you.

You’d silently cried then, holding onto Dean as he moved and moaned into your ear. When he pulled back to kiss you, your cheeks were free of any tear tracks and you kissed him back. You wondered how on earth he couldn’t feel that this was very real between you as you moved your hips to meet his in a tender rhythm as he held you in his lap, his green eyes staring into yours as he held you close. Sex was sex but this right here, this right in between you right then that he refused to put a name to, it was beyond real. You knew he could feel it just as much as you could…so why was he still hellbent on throwing it (and you) away?

A little while later, you had laid there, with his head on your chest, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes, his body still entangled with yours, staring up at the ceiling as you both were still trying to catch your breath. Your heart spoke for you before you could stop it. “I love you,” you whispered, meaning it with every fiber of your being.

It shocked the hell out of you and made something warm and fluttery happen inside your chest when he sleepily murmured to your skin, “Love y’too. Don’go.” You ended up chalking it up to him being in a post-sex sleep daze though, not knowing what he was really saying or even really having heard you correctly. That or he only meant for the night because the very next morning, things went back to how they were.

Dean seemed surprised when he woke up to find you next to him, scrolling through the news feed on your phone for any new cases. You’d given him a warm smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,” you teased.

Instead of smiling back, though, he cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey.” You could see that familiar detached expression settle on his features and you knew he was regretting the night before. He had been drinking by the time you got there, sure, but he hadn’t been inebriated. He was incredibly lucid by the time he made a move on you so try as he might, this couldn’t be chalked up to a drunken mistake.

You could literally feel that wall going back up and you gave one last ditch effort to keep him from shutting you back out, even laying a hand over his. “Dean, don’t—”

He pulled away from you and got out of bed, quickly slipping on his Scooby Doo boxers and jeans that he grabbed from the floor. You might have smiled seeing the familiar underwear that you hated but secretly loved if you weren’t hurting so much. “I’m hungry. You hungry?” He asked, slipping a black t-shirt over his head. “I’ll go see if Sam’s cooking anything up. I need a serious cup of coffee. You just…” He glanced back at you, seeing you holding the sheet tightly to your chest as you watched him, compulsively swallowing when he saw your eyes glistening. “You, uh, just come out when you’re ready.” He then made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and never looking back.

You sat back against the headboard, dissolving into a fit of tears and quiet sobs. You knew you should have never come. Once you were able to breathe without fresh tears welling up, you got yourself cleaned up and redressed. You splashed some water on your face and you took a deep breath before leaving the room. You were near the bunker stairs when Sam called out to you.

“Hey! Y/N!”

He was coming over to you, a big smile on his face. He was pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as warmly, forcing a smile.

He gave you a quick hug and you could see Jack a little ways behind him, giving you a smile and wave. “I didn’t know you were here. We were just about to have breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”

“Oh, I…”

You were saved from having to make an excuse when Dean appeared next to Jack, his expression severe and cold all at the same time. “She’s got a hunt she’s heading out for. Possible vamp nest in Duluth. Right, Y/N?”

Just when you thought he couldn’t hurt you even more, there he went proving you wrong. “Right,” you agreed quietly. You turned a wan smile onto Sam. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Duluth?” Sam glanced from his brother to you. “Maybe we can give you a hand on this one.”

“We can’t,” Dean stated firmly. He gave his brother a look and Sam’s brows furrowed before realization played upon his features and his jaw tightened. He turned apologetic hazel eyes onto you. “Donna’s up that way. If she needs a hand, she can call her,” Dean added.

You felt sick to your stomach. Obviously, you weren’t heading to Duluth or anywhere near Minnesota but the way he dismissed you so casually…the pain was overwhelming. The smile you kept on Sam turned into more of a grimace. “I appreciate the offer, Sam, but I’m good. Like your brother said, I can call Donna if I need anything. Don’t worry. Thanks, though.” You squeezed his arm and then turned to make your way up the stairs.

“Best of luck,” Dean gruffed out. You turned to see pure ice staring back at you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart right there, from demanding why Dean had obviously only called you for sex and a pick-me-up when there plenty of women in Lebanon that could do that for him, from begging him to wake up and see you were right in front of him and that what you had was very much real before it was too late. Instead, you continued climbing the stairs.

“Keep us updated and give us a call if you need anything,” Sam called after you.

“Will do,” you forced out.

“Good luck,” Jack offered.

When you reached the top, you glanced once more at Dean. His expression hadn’t changed one bit. The green gaze staring back at you was cold, hard. You let out a huff and shook your head, turning to open the door and close it behind you. That had been the very last time you saw him.

After that, you went back to the motel you had been renting a room in, packed up, and headed across state lines. You ignored Dean’s calls but took Sam’s.

Apparently, at some point, you had vanished when Chuck disappeared everyone. You had no idea until Donna filled you in. That explained the several missed calls from both Sam and Dean and the voicemails they left. Both had sounded desperate, especially Dean.

“Please, Y/N. I know you’re pissed at me and I get it but please call me back. Or call Sam. I don’t care. Just as long as we know you’re still with us and that you’re okay.” His tone sounded rough around the edges but considering the context Sam gave you when you did call him (there was no way you were calling Dean, especially not now), you realized they were just desperate to get in touch with anyone, having lost Cas and being the only three forms of life left on the planet.

Dean was right, you were angry. Angry that he’d used you that night, angry that he’d broken your heart in the first place. He had pursued you before you got together, not the other way around. By the time you let your guard down enough to let him in and things kicked off between you, he was deep in. Or so he’d said. By the time he ended things, you were deep in yourself. Now…now you were in even deeper thanks to him, so deep you were pretty sure Dean would haunt you the rest of your life no matter how you tried to shut him out of your heart.

Another tear rolled down your cheek. Though, you’d never meant the word haunt literally.

You wiped your face with your sleeve and let out an aggravated breath before getting to your feet. You grabbed your coat, your emergency bag, your hunting bag, and the car keys from the table near the door. You locked up and got into the car you only used for hunts and grocery trips now, starting it and backing out of the driveway.

It’s not that you doubted what Sam had told you or Sam himself, but you needed to see things for yourself. You turned the car in the direction that would lead you to Kansas.

You opened the door to the Bunker, seeing nothing but darkness greeting you, the clanking of the door being the only sound to echo in the large chamber. That was strange. They never shut it down when they left for hunts. You hit the lights and hearing a loud thrumming sound, you watched as they came back on, one by one. You had your own key since you were also a Legacy. You’d never been more thankful for that fact when you arrived to find the Bunker locked down, no Sam in sight.

You shut the door behind you and dropped your bags near the table. You bit your lip to keep your eyes from welling up when you noticed an unfinished chess game on the table, most likely one that Dean and Cas had been engaged in, but now neither of them would be back to complete it. Instead, you focused on the matter at hand. You pulled your gun out and an angel blade, slipping the latter into your coat pocket in case you needed it. In the other pocket, you slipped a flask of holy water and a small piece of iron bar you could wield if need be. In your gun sat silver bullets; you couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Especially if the word was out to the world of the supernatural that Dean Winchester was gone and only Sam was left now, alone.

You slowly made your way down the stairs, listening intently for any other noises you might hear. All that you could make out besides your footsteps was the low hum of electricity that was commonplace for the old bunker. You cleared the library, the hallways, the kitchen, the shower room, the infirmary, the Dean Cave where you’d been forced to watch The Lost Boys and slasher films more times than you cared to count (you had dug your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying when you saw the DVD cover of Tombstone left near the TV), every single room in the place until you came to the one that made a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it back down and forced yourself to focus, raising your gun that much higher. You opened the door and hit the lights, scanning every which way. The room was clear.

You lowered your gun and made your way inside, the lump in your throat back again. Your eyes roamed over the hastily made bed; the empty dog bowls on the floor (which made your brows furrow in confusion slightly); the messy desk; the empty beer bottles on the table; the headphones on the nightstand; the shotguns on the wall; the books scattered about; the load of laundry sitting off to the right in a corner. Memories washed over you and your eyes began to sting as tears welled up.

You’d walked into the room to find Dean jamming out on his bed, listening to music through the headphones he’d insisted on buying on your last trip. You huffed out a laugh and dropped the laundry basket of folded clothes onto the bed, garnering his attention.

He opened his eyes and glanced up to find you smiling at him.

“What are you listening to?”

He held one of the phones away from his ear and you could hear some serious strumming of heavy metal guitar coming out of it. “Huh?”

“I said, what are you listening to?” You asked a little louder.

“What?” He nearly yelled.

You picked up the top item from your pile, his Scooby Doo underthings, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed squarely on his chest and he immediately jumped up as if it had burned him, his cheeks turning redder by the second as he threw the headphones onto the bed.

“You did my laundry?” He asked in horror.

Amazing. You two had explored every single inch of each other time and time again, been sort of rooming together for the past month, but he was embarrassed that you washed his dirty underwear?

You shrugged and began to place his folded clothes on the bed. “I had room in the washer so I figured I’d grab yours, too. You’re welcome.”

“You washed our clothes together?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

You gasped and gave him a mock look of horror. “Oh no, not together.” You tossed a pair of jeans over at him and he caught it in time. “I used detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, and everything,” you teased. “But putting it away is where I draw the line, pal. That’s on you.” You pointed to the neat pile sitting on the bed before moving over to the door to head to the room you kept your things in down the hall.

Arms wrapped around you from behind, stopping your trek, and Dean murmured into your ear, “You washed my clothes for me?”

“And folded, too,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget that.”

“Mmm, what else can I get you to do for me?” He grabbed the basket from you and placed it down before gripping your hips and moving in to kiss your neck.

“Hey, I’m not your maid. I had room in the washer, that was it. Don’t get used to this,” you laughed before digging your teeth into your lip when you felt his tongue on a particular part of your skin.

“What if I want to get used to this?” He moved up to your jaw line.

“I’d say you’re SOL. Unless…”

“Unless?” He hummed near your lips.

“Unless you finally let me tidy up this room a little.”

His head shot up, frowning down at you. “What? Why, what’s wrong with how it is now?”

“Well,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Some of these papers on the desk need organizing, the books can be put in a stack on the table over there, these empty beer bottles can be thrown out, the shotguns you have near the bed can be put away…”

“There’s nothing wrong with anything you just mentioned,” he grumbled.

“Oh, really? So the other night when you were doing that thing—”

“That thing you really like,” he interrupted, smirking cockily at you.

You had to keep from rolling your eyes and smirking yourself. “When I moved, I knocked into the shotgun and it fell. It almost went off. You remember that?”

“Nothing happened or went off, well, except you.” His smirk got even bigger. “You remember that?”

This time you gently swatted at his shoulder. “Dean.”

He heard the warning in your no-nonsense tone and laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “Alright,” he whispered to your lips. “I’ll put the shotguns up out of the way. But everything else stays.”

You huffed out an exasperated breath. One of these days when he wasn’t looking, you swore you’d do as exactly as you’d suggested. Clear out the empty bottles and stack the books at the very least.

“Hey, it’s all about compromise, right? Speaking of that,” He turned you around in his arms and you were once again facing the laundry basket he’d left on the floor. “Find a space and keep some of ‘em in here.”

A pleasant shock ran through you. “Are you sure?” You whispered.

He slowly turned you back around and gently cupped your chin. “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m sure. You’re practically sleeping in here every night, anyway. I’d rather you not have to put back on the same clothes from the night before or walk naked down to your room. Then again, naked…”

You glared up at him, making him chuckle and brush his lips against yours. “I just didn’t want to crowd you,” you admitted after a moment. “It’s your space. If I’m in here too much, I can—”

“I want you here.” You gazed into his green eyes, unsure, but all you saw staring back at you was softness with a glint of earnestness. He was telling you the truth; he really wanted you to stay.

“Okay,” you agreed with a shy smile.

He beamed at you and then picked you up, making you gasp loudly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Not that you’re gonna be needing them right now.”

You shook your head and kissed him as he walked you both towards the bed. When he had you on it, you could hear the music coming from the forgotten headphones. “Is that…Whitesnake?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Uh huh. One sec.” He reached over, quickly clicked something on his phone, and the music suddenly changed. You smiled when a familiar song started up.

“Really?”

“What? It’s our song.”

You framed his face with your hands, looking up at him affectionately. “Dean Winchester, secretly sentimental and sensitive guy extraordinaire,” you teased him.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I’m not any of that crap. It’s the first song we made good use of Baby’s backseat to, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in here, we gotta celebrate.”

Romantic. You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Like I said, sentimental.” You pulled him down to you and kissed him sweetly. Needless to say, he had been right; you hadn’t needed your clothes for a little while.

You took in a ragged breath, your fingers gently touching over the papers on his desk. While you hated the empty beer bottles and you didn’t want to end up possibly shot with a salt round during a passionate moment of sex, you really hadn’t minded how he had things. You knew this was the first home he and Sam ever really had. He could keep things messy or disorganized if he wanted to; he had more than earned the right. It might sound silly to someone else but he deserved to experience living in a home, mess and all, like everyone did at some point in their lives. Not only did he not have a place to do that since he’d been four years old, he’d never felt comfortably settled in anywhere ever to be able to do it. You remembered him and Sam telling you how long it had taken Dean to settle into this room, to think of the Bunker as not just theirs but home. You’d kick the crap out of anyone who tried to take that away from him, and you would be the last person to try to do it yourself. You still thanked him when he hung the shotguns up on the wall; you were beyond grateful. That time, he was the one who went off and quite happily.

A sob nearly tore its way out of your chest when you saw his handwriting on one of the papers. Your fingertips traced each letter. How could he really be gone?

You ran your fingers over an open file, wondering what he had been looking at, when you heard the clicking of nails on the floor behind you. You spun, lifting your gun, to find Sam standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes as a dog appeared beside him. That must have been what you’d heard. You lowered the gun and let out a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

You winced internally at your question. He had every right to be here, this was his home. You were the intruder.

“The monitoring system we set up… I was alerted that someone was in the Bunker. I locked it down and I know only he and I had the keys, so I didn’t know if…” You watched as he compulsively swallowed.

You turned back to the desk. “I get that. Where were you, by the way? Why did you lock it down?” He didn’t answer for a moment when you glanced over your shoulder at him, seeing his gaze glued to the ground. “Sam?”

His eyes flicked up to yours and he swallowed again. “I was on my way to Austin. For a case. But then…” He gestured towards you. “I turned around and headed back to see.” You noticed he didn’t mention why he had locked the Bunker down but then again, he didn’t really need to. Who else would be coming here now that Dean, Cas, and Jack were gone? Mary was gone as well as most of the other hunters you’d worked with over the past couple of years. Apocalypse World Bobby was still up in Minnesota somewhere. Apocalypse World Charlie and Stevie had moved East, choosing to retire after what happened with Chuck temporarily disappearing everyone. Garth and Bess still lived in their home with their family. Jody and the girls had their own operation up in Sioux Falls with Donna lending a hand every now and then. And you…well, you never told Sam where you were.

You gave him a slow nod and dropped your eyes back down to the desk, running your fingers over the pages of an open lore book Dean had been reading. It was probably ridiculous but you thought maybe you could somehow still feel him here (though you did not want him to be a ghost), that perhaps by touch or sight or smell even that you could somehow connect to what his last days had been like. You wondered if he somehow knew deep down or if he hadn’t seen it coming. Even though he had always told you that he didn’t see a good ending for himself down the road, that he was forever bound to this life, you knew he also secretly fantasized about his life going in a different direction, one he’d included you in once upon a time. You then wondered if there was a girl somewhere who was either waiting for a phone call she would never get or was crying her eyes out because Sam had given her the news like he had you. It hurt to think that maybe he had found someone that he envisioned another future with instead of you, with someone he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Chuck hadn’t inserted into his life as a manipulation or a story device. Someone that he didn’t question what he had with them, if it was real. Though at the same time, you hoped he found a little piece of happiness. You still loved him enough to want that for him.

You briefly closed your eyes in pain when you remembered that last night you spent with him, telling him you loved him. You truly meant it and even though he hurt you again and again, you still did. You forced the thought away and instead chose to focus on the open book in front of you. “What was he working on?” You choked out, quietly clearing your throat once you heard how rough your voice sounded.

You turned the page, seeing mentions of witches and vampires, when you realized Sam never answered you. You glanced back at him, arching your brows in question.

Sam’s eyes were wide and laser focused on your body, his mouth hanging open. Shit.

You should’ve known that despite the dark clothing you were wearing, the long black coat you were sporting, turning away from him, that you wouldn’t be able to hide your secret much longer. Truthfully, it wasn’t even something you’d thought about when you set out for the bunker. Had Sam been here when you arrived, he probably would have seen it then.

You turned towards the younger Winchester and Sam’s eyes flickered up to you. “Are you…?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam closed his mouth and swallowed, glancing back and forth between you and your protruding belly. You read the clear question in his eyes that he was burning to ask.

“You’re going to be an uncle.”

Except the few times he’d been close to death, you’d never seen Sam look so pale.

You and Sam sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, Miracle (as you’d come to find out was the dog’s name) laid at your feet, his head on his paws.

“How?” Sam finally asked you.

You snorted in amusement. “You know how.”

“No, I mean… Why didn’t you tell Dean? Did you tell Dean? Because he didn’t tell me and I don’t think that’s something he wouldn’t have told me.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and sadness wrap around you once more. “No. I didn’t tell him,” you whispered. It was now the biggest regret of your life, right before the second biggest one of you walking out of the bunker the morning you’d last seen him and not fighting harder to get him to let you back in.

“Were you ever going to?”

Your eyes snapped to Sam at the judgment clear as day in his tone and they narrowed. “No, I wasn’t. He made it pretty clear he wanted nothing more to do with me or anything related to me. So, no, Sam, I wasn’t,” you snapped.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at his lap.

You turned your gaze forward again, taking a breath to tamp down the familiar anger and resentment that you’d worked so hard to try to let go of. After a moment, you rubbed at your forehead. “Yes,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I think so…”

Sam stayed quiet and let you sort through your thoughts which you were grateful for. You’d been caught completely off guard by the pregnancy yourself. When you found out, you thought back to how you unwisely didn’t take your usual precautions and since you and Dean had broken up long before that, you hadn’t been too concerned with maintaining your birth control.

You’d thought over your options. Bringing a kid into the hunting lifestyle was the worst thing you could do to it. Dean and Sam were living proof. Their mom herself had known it which was why she tried to get out when she married their dad. Not to mention, it would make you vulnerable in your line of work and the kid would always be in danger, always have a target on its back. Plus, you were pretty sure that even if you told Dean, he’d be less than thrilled. He always told you he didn’t want kids, for the very reasons you were now facing. And did you really want to bring a kid into the world that Chuck was about to end, only to have a father who was dismissive of it, or even hated it? You didn’t think Dean would be capable, he’d been great with Jack and Ben after all, but this was different. This kid would have his blood, his genes, would look like him somewhat. Sure, he had that in Emma once and that had torn him up, but this would also be different. This was for the long haul. And that’s only if he even wanted to be in this kid’s life. Which he might opt not to. How could you do that to your child? So you considered choosing to end the pregnancy, which would have been a true mercy given everything stacked against it before it would be born, but eventually you decided otherwise.

You’d heard the baby’s heartbeat on a checkup while you were still mulling it over, and that was it. Dean wanted to know if what you had was real or not? Here it was, its little heart thumping away deep within your body. After that visit, you’d decided the hell with it. You were someone who believed everything happened for a reason, well before things with Chuck went bad though you still operated on this age-old belief most of the time. You were having a kid, one who would be half of you and half of Dean, the love of your life for all intents and purposes. Though it had hurt when he dismissed you that morning, perhaps this had been the reason why he called you out of the blue, wanting you to come to him, and why you went despite knowing what would most likely happen and how much pain it would cause you.

So you made a decision to start pulling out of hunting. Donna rented her family cabin in Hibbing to you. Bobby hadn’t been back since Mary died so it was sitting empty and unused. You hid the pregnancy as best you could but ultimately, once the first trimester was over and you had popped, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Donna found out though she never knew who the father was. She didn’t pry which you appreciated. When she called you to warn you that Billie was making people disappear left and right, a familiar fear clawed at your chest. Not only fear for your child but also the fear of what if Dean found out about it. That was the only thing that kept you from offering to come down to Kansas to help.

“We’re going into some place warded to protect us. You should do the same. I can send you pictures of the sigils they’re using.”

“Okay, thanks. Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry. We’ll figure this out. You just stay safe in the cabin. You and…well, you know.”

You appreciated her staying discreet when you heard Sam’s voice in the background. “I will. Thanks, D.”

“You betcha. Talk soon.”

You hung up and Donna did indeed send you the pictures. You did your best with what you had but it didn’t matter in the end. The last thing you remembered was painting a sigil on the window and then everything went black. The next thing you knew, you were back at the window, your finger extended towards the glass, the half-finished sigil staring back at you. You noticed the sun was in a different position in the sky than it had been and you immediately grabbed your cell phone. Two days had passed. How?

It hit you then what happened and you dropped the phone with a cry, immediately grabbing at your stomach. You ran for the machine Jody had shipped to you after Donna told her. At the time you’d been annoyed, but right now, you couldn’t be happier at the sheriff knowing about your pregnancy once your baby’s heartbeat echoed throughout the bedroom. You let out a huge sigh of relief, rubbing your belly affectionately. “We had quite a scare there, didn’t we, kiddo?”

It dawned on you then that while you had vanished, you were back, baby and all. Did that mean everyone else was back, too? You went back downstairs for your cell phone and immediately called Donna. Yep, everyone was back, they had all disappeared, and it wasn’t Billie but Chuck who had done it. You asked after Dean and Sam and that was when she told you about Cas and then Jack. You knew both brothers would be devastated, especially Dean, and you considered breaking your radio silence to call him. However, you chickened out at the last second and called Sam instead to check in.

It’s not that a part of you didn’t want to tell Dean he was going to be a father, it was that you were scared of what would happen when you did. Originally, you had feared that he would turn his back on you completely, more importantly on his kid, but now you were worried that maybe it would be the exact opposite. While you would be happy for him to be actively involved in your child’s life as its dad, you also knew Dean. He would try to resume things between you, make it work for the kid’s sake. Just look at how long he tried to make it work with Lisa for Ben’s sake. Not that he didn’t love her and he ended up leaving to protect them, but even Lisa knew his heart wasn’t in it. While that had been for different reasons involving hunting and Sam’s reappearance in his life, he still tried to make it work. But as he’d told you, the family thing didn’t work for him, and besides he already had a family with Sam, Cas, and Jack. You hadn’t missed how he didn’t include you in that group; you supposed you should’ve known then.

You didn’t want him to fake wanting to be with you just to give your kid some semblance of a family life that Dean himself hadn’t really had. You didn’t know if you could take him forcing himself to kiss you goodnight before turning his back on you every single night. Or forcing a smile when he’d come home after a long day and you were the first thing he saw when he stepped inside. It was a ridiculous fear to have, you knew that, and you should be stronger than this — you were stronger than this. Not to mention, you knew you were being selfish and not at all fair to your baby or Dean. But the images kept replaying over and over in your mind, making you flinch, and you told yourself you’d tell him the next day. The next day turned into next week, then the next month. Before you knew it, you were in your third trimester and you were getting a call from his younger brother to inform you of his untimely death.

Maybe that’s really why you raced down here from Hibbing. Maybe that’s why you wanted to see for yourself that he was gone. Not only to confirm that the man who had your heart was gone for good, but also so you could tell him, hoping he might hear it wherever he now was. Or maybe by some act of mercy Jack could relay it to him, wherever Jack was. It was cowardly, you were a coward, and you hated yourself for it. You knew you should have told Dean months ago, after you found out that he and Sam had beaten Chuck, Jack was in charge of the universe now, and the world was not coming to an end anytime soon. Regardless, you couldn’t turn back the clock.

A tear escaped that you quickly wiped away, not caring if Sam saw or not. “You know, when you first told me about Dean, I considered a demon deal.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “No! That’s not what he would want! No!”

You held out a placating hand. “I know. I’m not going to do that.” He seemed to deflate slightly in relief. “I can’t, anyway.” You motioned to your bulging stomach. “I couldn’t do that to my kid. Only be around for 10 years and then poof, I’m gone? Even if it had Dean, if Dean wanted it that is, it’s still terrible to do that to a kid.” You winced slightly when you realized you were saying this to Sam Winchester of all people.

“Dean would’ve wanted it,” he assured you quietly.

You grimaced and dropped your gaze down to the dog who was staring up at you. “Maybe.” You reached down to pet his head.

Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would’ve.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words, when you murmured, “Is there any way to get him back?”

Sam let you go and his hazel eyes began to shimmer. “No,” he choked out. “I, uh, checked with Jack and he said it was his time. So…no.”

“What?” You snapped, getting to your feet. “After everything you’ve done for that kid? He just—”

Sam got to his feet, tenderly cradling your shoulders. “I know. I didn’t want to hear it either but…Jack’s right.” Your jaw dropped, ready to let some f-bombs fly (which you usually tried to avoid since the baby could now hear you), when Sam’s hands moved up to your face, trying to get you to listen. “He was ready to go. Jack confirmed it. Dean’s in Heaven and he’s at peace.”

Tears were on the edge of falling when you heard that. “He’s in Heaven?”

Sam nodded, a tear making its way down his cheek. “Yeah. He is.”

If Dean was in Heaven…well, then that was some consolation at least. Just when he thought he’d never make it there thanks to his being a demon for a short stint, being killed by a Hell Hound, and everything that had occurred over the years — even some of the things he’d done. But that also meant he was gone, for good this time. It was confirmed; he wasn’t coming back. It hit you like a freight train and it punched a huge hole in your chest. You felt as if you were falling, falling, and would never stop. Dean was…gone. “Then he’s…”

“He’s gone,” Sam confirmed. “He’s not coming back.”

Your knees buckled and you nearly fell, Sam thankfully having caught you. You heard a wailing sound but you had no idea where it was coming from until you felt it ripping its way out of your body. Sam gingerly picked you up in his arms and moved you onto the bed. You were violently sobbing and you barely noticed Sam holding you, gently rocking you back and forth, his own tears falling into your hair. Miracle had jumped up and laid next to you, whining quietly and trying to shove his head under your hands, rubbing his body carefully against your belly.

There was no way. No way that this was real. This had to be a nightmare. But when you heard Sam sniffle above you, choking out, “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, it’s going to be okay,” you knew that it wasn’t. Memories of Dean’s face, his laugh, his smiles, his touch, his scent, the way he looked at you when you’d both been happy together, his kisses, the way he felt like home in a way that no other person or place ever could, the way he made you feel safe — all of it smashed over you like a tidal wave and it didn’t let up. Dean Winchester, the man you’d loved with all of your heart, the man whose child you now carried inside of you, was gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back.

Dean had just pulled the Impala over at a beautiful spot, where you could see nature’s beauty for miles. He rested back against Baby and marveled at it all. There was even a double rainbow that showed up and Dean chuckled, knowing that had to be Jack’s doing considering there hadn’t been any rain. Then he wondered if it did rain at all. How did things like that work up here anyhow?

He was still enjoying the view when Jack popped in next to him.

“There he is.” Dean grinned and went to give him a hug before he thought better of it. “Am I still allowed to…you know?”

Jack smiled. “Of course. I like hugs.”

Dean laughed and embraced him tightly. “Thanks, kid. For everything you did up here, I mean. Bobby told me.” He pulled back, clapping his shoulder in thanks. “So, where’s Cas?”

“He’ll be along shortly but first, I need to show you something.”

Dean’s brows furrowed but he shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and next thing Dean knew, he was back in his old room at the Bunker. “Whoa,” he whispered, thinking Jack and Cas had built the Bunker just for him. He would be able to wait for Sam here, in his home. He hoped the TV in the Dean Cave worked and that he still had access to his music. Baby’s radio had worked so he had high hopes. He was about to thank Jack when his eyes suddenly caught sight of someone in his bed. Well, two someones.

He glanced towards Jack who gave him a subtle nod, silently encouraging him to get closer. Dean shot him a confused look but did move closer. When he caught sight of you, his heart dropped into his stomach. Even being dead, he felt the same exact thing he felt the last time he had seen you. You were the one who got away, or more appropriately, the one he pushed away.

Sure, he’d been confused when he found out everything in his life was a lie when Chuck revealed himself to be a giant dick, but he did love you. He had such trouble reconciling the two: what he knew to be true and what his mind was telling him. No other romantic relationship had worked out for him, all two of them prior to you, and now he knew why. Chuck liked him better on his own, being the guy with no strings attached and rolling through town to save the girl, kill the monsters, get thanked, and move on his way. The only other person Chuck liked having in the Impala regularly was Sam. You, well, you he hadn’t seen coming and after the Big Bad Chuck reveal, he had to wonder why.

He had never meant to hurt you, though he couldn’t seem to stop from doing it. If things weren’t real between you all of this time, he didn’t want to keep pretending like they were. That wasn’t fair to either of you and he certainly didn’t want to continue stringing you along when his heart was no longer in it like it used to be. So he let you go, as painful as it was and as wrong as it felt, he did the right thing by you. Then that night he’d called you out of the blue, he’d been torn up about Cas’ revelations about Jack’s actual role in Billie’s plan, how badly he wanted Chuck gone, and how while he didn’t want to sacrifice the kid, he wanted his and Sam’s freedom more. Without thinking, he’d picked up the phone and dialed you. He shocked himself when he asked you to come over after hearing you weren’t that far away, and you shocked him even more when you agreed.

Dean hadn’t planned for you two to be intimate, but once you were there, right in front of him, it hit him hard how much he missed you, missed what you had together. So he made a move and you let him. He’d put everything he had, everything he felt but couldn’t tell you, into this stolen moment in time between you. And then the next morning, he thought it had all been a dream until he turned his head and saw you laying there, hair adorably disheveled, sheet covering you, doing something on your phone. It briefly reminded him of the many mornings he’d woken to find you in this exact same position, already up after a wild night, searching for cases. He wanted to bask in the comfort and familiarity for a moment longer, but when you turned and smiled at him, greeting him like you always had, he started kicking himself internally. He didn’t want you to think that this meant things would change when he knew they wouldn’t. He was being unfair to you and it wasn’t right. He’d been a selfish bastard and now he had to go into dick mode which would hurt you again. And sure enough, he knew he did when he saw your face fall as he easily dismissed you, not once but twice. He winced at the memory; he certainly didn’t blame you for not taking his calls or returning his voicemails after that.

The truth was that while he had initially been confused about his feelings for you and their validity, he knew he cared deeply about you and the most important thing was keeping you safe. He didn’t want you involved in the Chuck showdown, which is why he rudely dismissed you that morning, making up an excuse of a case in Duluth, something he knew you’d go along with. After watching you leave, as the door closed behind you, his heart fell into his stomach and he felt about three inches tall. He hated hurting you, hated pushing you away, but he knew it was for the best. You needed to be safe; not a target for Chuck.

After Chuck had been defeated and Jack took over, Dean realized in those months that he’d been a grade A idiot when it came to you. Sure, he’d been a cold dick, but he also had been a complete dumbass. He still loved you and he missed the hell out of you. What you had together had been something special that he stupidly threw away. There were quite a few nights after quite a few drinks, he’d picked up his phone and hovered over your number but he never actually called it. How could he even think of asking you to forgive him and give him another chance? After everything he’d said and done? He truly was a selfish bastard.

When he didn’t call, he then switched over to all of the photos and videos he had taken of you and both of you together. As he heard your laughter, saw both of your smiles, watched how you looked at him and the affection you’d shown him, he continued drowning his sorrows. He wanted so much to talk to you, to apologize and explain, and ask if he could come see you, but he never let himself ask. He didn’t deserve it; he knew that.

Now, here you were, asleep on his bed, Miracle curled up next to you. Staring down at you, he wondered how the hell he had ever let you go. And now, he’d never get to hold you again, feel your touch, or even share a conversation with you ever again. Even though Dean was at peace with his fate, regret languished within his chest the more he studied your face. He reached out to brush some hair back over your face but sadness overwhelmed him when he realized he couldn’t even do that small simple touch. Not anymore.

Dean’s eyes narrowed when he noticed an arm curled around you, almost protectively, pinning you to another body. His gaze traveled up that arm to find his younger brother, asleep right behind you. That surprised him but he quickly put two and two together. You must have gone to the Bunker when Sam called you to tell you the news and here you were, in Dean’s room, asleep on his bed with his dog. And while he didn’t begrudge you or his little brother some comfort you both might need, he didn’t like the look of that embrace or that Sam’s face was buried into the back of your neck.

Dean glanced back down at the arm, seeing Miracle staring right up at him. He couldn’t help but smile at the canine who had been his companion for months before he died. “Hey, boy,” he whispered, not sure if he would be heard or not but not wanting to startle you if he was. “How are you?”

Miracle didn’t seem to react at first, not until he got up and moved closer, wagging his tail. Dean went to try to pet the dog, hoping he could at least touch the animal, but he never got that far. His eyes zeroed in on just what Miracle’s body had been blocking.

His wide eyes flicked up to you, to Sam, back to you, and back to your fairly large and round stomach. The hell with being heard and possibly scaring you two. He glanced back to find Jack watching him. “What the hell is going on here, Jack?”

“They’re sleeping.”

“I’m aware of that,” he growled. “But what—”

Just then, Cas popped in next to Jack. When the angel saw Dean, he offered a soft smile. Dean felt himself relax slightly and a part of him wanted to go hug the angel but another part of him was nervous to. Plus, he really wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shifted his eyes towards Jack, his jaw tightening. “What the hell are you showing me?”

Cas glanced towards the bed, realization lighting his features, before he turned to Jack as well.

“The present,” Jack simply answered.

Dean cursed under his breath, not caring that both Cas and Jack could hear him. “The present of what? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like some time has passed.” He gestured towards your stomach. He tried not to be angry with you or Sammy, he really did, but dammit, his brother knew how he felt about you! Him dying didn’t change that! Besides, Sam had something going with Eileen last he knew, whatever happened to that?

“What you’re seeing is a few days after your death.”

Surprise ran through Dean at that revelation. So, this wasn’t some screwed up future scene he was witnessing? His eyes roamed over you, coming to rest once again on your stomach. You were very pregnant, looking as if you might be ready to pop any day now, he wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear; there was no way the baby was Sam’s. Sam wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from him that long and he just didn’t see you or Sam going behind his back like that while he was alive. You were pissed at him, maybe even hated him, but you would never do that to him. Nor would Sam. The only answer was that you had found someone else and you were starting a family with them. Now he understood your radio silence even more. You might currently be sad at the news of his death, awash in memories in his room to where you’d fallen asleep on his bed and Sam had to comfort you, but you had truly moved on. That burned him even more. While he was happy if you were happy, knowing you’d found someone who wouldn’t break your heart and would treat you better than he ever could, a part of him was saddened by this knowledge. He knew you were too good for him, that you deserved better, but to see it confirmed in such a way, well, it was heartbreaking.

“So if she’s… Then she’s…” He couldn’t even put it into words; it hurt too much.

Jack clasped Dean’s shoulder. “The child is yours, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t alive anymore but if he had been, his heart would have stopped. He turned to Jack, shocked. “What?”

“You’re going to be a father,” Jack supplied, letting him go.

“But…how?” Dean’s gaze fell on you once more.

Cas suddenly appeared on his other side. “You don’t remember how you conceived the child?”

“What? No, I just…”

“Dean,” Jack called.

When he turned to look at the new God, the latter held up a glowing finger to him that almost reminded him of that movie E.T. “What are you gonna do with that? Check my temperature?” Speaking of E.T., hadn’t that been one of the last movies picked for movie night before the Chuck showdown?

Jack smiled and touched the finger to his forehead. Within seconds, Dean was reliving every single moment between you two:

…When you’d met.

…When he decided he’d liked you while you decided you didn’t like him too much.

…His constant flirting and trying to win you over.

…Your begrudging friendship that then grew into something more.

…Your relationship.

…Your breakup.

…All of the times you’d been in pain because of him.

…That last night.

…The next morning.

Then the memories shifted to yours from after that morning:

…You finding out about the pregnancy a couple of months later.

…Your hemming and hawing over calling him to tell him.

…Your fears.

…When you’d vanished with everyone else.

…Your panic upon your reappearance.

…The time you spent getting ready to retire from hunting and set up a normal life in Hibbing while preparing for the baby.

…The call from Sam with the news of his death.

…Your regret at not telling him about his child and your drive down here.

…Your conversation with Sam.

…Your collapsing in grief at finally realizing that he was gone and not coming back.

All of it that led to the scene he was witnessing now. He felt everything you felt, heard every thought, saw every tear, every smile.

By the time Jack pulled away, Dean’s eyes were wet. He wasn’t sure how he was able to produce tears as a dead man but he did. Not only did he feel how deeply he’d hurt you, but he also felt just how deeply you loved him. He already knew he’d been an idiot when it came to you, but he really had no clue before this just how incredibly stupid he’d been. It had always been real between you. That hadn’t been Chuck. Not by a long shot.

Dean discreetly wiped his eyes. “Send me back.” His tone was firm and he wasn’t really asking.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but your time on Earth is up.”

Dean turned a menacing glare onto Jack. New God or not, he didn’t care. “She’s having my kid and she needs me. They both need me. Sam, too. After everything I’ve done for this world, you owe me.” Jack stared him down, unbothered by the taller man’s attempt to make demands. “Now I appreciate the Fixer Upper: Heaven Edition, I really do, but I should be with them. I deserve a shot at this and you know it.”

Jack mused on that for a moment before staring up at Dean sadly. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

Dean scoffed. “Then why bother showing me any of this? Why bother telling me that it’s my kid she’s about to have? What’s the point, dammit?”

“You were afraid that you had left nothing behind of value, except Sam and your beloved car. Afraid that your life hadn’t amounted to anything in the end. No matter how many people you saved, no matter how many connections you made, no matter what good you did.” Jack gestured towards you. “It did amount to something. You are leaving behind something, something important. A legacy,” Jack gestured to your stomach. “A family,” he waved his hand over you and Sam.

Dean’s jaw clenched and he ignored the stinging in the corner of his eyes. “So this was just to show me what I can never have. The girl, the kid, the life…that’s just aces,” he muttered.

“No, Dean,” Cas spoke up. “What Jack is trying to explain is—”

“–your life amounted to more than you thought it had,” Jack finished.

Dean watched as Miracle went back and curled up against your belly once more, his head on his paws as he watched the scene in front of him. The corner of Dean’s lips tipped up into a smile. It was almost as if the dog knew it was his kid in there. And he was determined to protect it in Dean’s absence. His smile faded though when he thought of how he wouldn’t be able to see his kid, at all. He’d had enough of this. “That’s great. Appreciate the pep talk, fellas. Now, if you could send me back so I can actually raise my legacy and take care of my family, that’d be much appreciated.”

Jack and Cas exchanged a glance. Dean knew he wasn’t winning this one but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying. “It’s not your time yet,” Jack answered cryptically.

Dean’s head snapped in his direction. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that now your time is in Heaven, not Earth. And it’s best if you return to it.” Before Jack could snap his fingers, Dean held up a hand.

“Whoa, wait! That’s it? You’re not even gonna let me stick around to see what I’m gonna have?”

Jack smiled once more. “You’re going to have a son. A strong, healthy son.”

Dean reeled from that information. “A son?” He choked out.

Jack gave him a happy nod and held his fingers up again.

“Wait, wait! I’m serious, Jack. Why can’t I stick around?”

“You know what happens to ghosts, Dean. Besides, you’ve already been admitted to Heaven.”

“But you can do something about that, right? Like bring me back?” When Jack didn’t respond, Dean became desperate. “At least let me check in on them every now and then or something! You’re telling me you can’t even do that? You’re freaking God!”

Jack’s smile faded. “You’re not an angel, Dean.”

“No,” Cas interrupted. “But I am.” Cas stretched out his wings that were a lot brighter than Dean remembered. If he wasn’t dead, he was pretty sure he would at they very least be blinded from the brightness right about now. “I can take him back when he’s ready and I can escort him on any future visits.”

Dean was shocked but also beyond grateful at Cas’ offer. While they hadn’t spoken yet about how things were left between them before The Empty took away the angel, he couldn’t imagine it would be easy for Cas to watch as he pined over someone else, as he watched his kid grow, but Dean was grateful all the same.

Jack appeared to think this over before meeting Cas’ intent gaze. “You will make sure to bring him back each time.” At Cas’ nod, Jack gave him a knowing yet affectionate smile. “I expect you to keep to the rules during these visits.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed.

Jack then glanced over at Dean. “If you’re worried about her and your child, you don’t need to be. Sam is going to watch over them.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped in your direction, his eyes shifting to Sam’s arm around you.

“What the hell does that mean?” He demanded.

“It means that your family is going to be safe. They’re going to stick together. Sam is going to help Y/N raise your son. He won’t allow any harm to come to them.”

His jaw tightened, thinking it should be his arm over you, him behind you, him helping you raise your kid, you two together. He should be the one to take his son fishing, teach him about girls when he got older, show him how to keep Baby going, be the father his old man had the potential to be but minus a few things. He’d do whatever it took to keep the kid out of hunting, to give him a shot at a full happy life. He’d give up hunting himself in order to make it happen. And you…if you’d take him back, he’d never leave your side. Hell, he’d marry you if you let him. After Jack had caught him up to speed on everything you went through, everything you had felt and were feeling, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to you, letting you know every single day just how much he loved you, if only you’d let him. If only Jack would allow him to come back. It felt beyond wrong that he wasn’t there and Sam was stepping into his place. Sam shouldn’t have to; he should be able to go and build his own family with Eileen or whoever, get married, have a couple of kids, buy a house, get out of hunting and go back to school — do whatever he wanted with his life. Not this.

“Dean.”

His eyes slowly lifted to Jack’s, who was a lot closer now than he had been before. He laid a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s as it should be. After you died, Sam was lost. She’s going to need help when the child is born.” He stared at Dean meaningfully. “They all need this.”

Dean’s gaze briefly roamed over the three of you on the bed before landing on Jack again. He thought back to his cryptic words from before. “Will I ever meet my kid? Get to see her again? Outside of Heaven?”

Jack’s expression didn’t change nor did he say anything but he squeezed his shoulder. That was the only response Dean was going to get apparently.

Dean huffed a snort and shook his head.

“I told you, Dean. There would be no more meddling with the world from on high. I will not repeat Chuck’s mistakes. Everything is as it should be.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze. No, everything wasn’t as it should be. He made up his mind then to talk to Bobby when he got back. There had to be something he could do to get back to Earth, to get back to you and Sam and the baby…to get back to you all. If he couldn’t convince Jack to send him back, he’d find some other way.

Jack released him as Cas came to stand next to Dean. “I’ll see you back in Heaven.” He then looked at Cas. “Not too long.”

Cas gave him a nod and like that, Jack disappeared, leaving the angel and the hunter alone. Dean wasn’t thinking about how that might have set them up to talk about Cas’ last words to him before dying; right now, his focus was on you.

“Cas, please…can I touch her?”

“Dean…”

“Please,” he begged. “Just one last time. I’m not gonna get to be with her or raise my kid. I just want to touch her one last time. Please, Cas.”

Cas thought it over and then moved closer to the bed, leaning down to place two fingers against your forehead. Dean’s brows furrowed when he noticed a golden glow appear from the touch. “Whoa, whoa, Cas. What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you what you asked for. Y/N’s a light sleeper, like all of you hunters. If she wakes up, she could think she’s being attacked by a ghost or some other entity. I doubt you want that.” He pulled away and gave Dean a look.

“No,” Dean quietly agreed. Cas moved away to make room to let him in. Dean gingerly sat on the bed, about to touch you when he glanced up at the angel, unsure. Cas gave him a nod and Dean turned to gently run the backs of his fingers down your cheek. He felt your warm and soft skin this time when he came into contact with you and he let out a small breath of relief, sadness filling his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Had I known, I would’ve…” He supposed it didn’t really matter what he would’ve done. “I should’ve been there. You shouldn’t have had to go through all this alone. I should be there with you now, ready to help you take care of the kid. I…” He tenderly moved your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, but I had to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to become a target for Chuck. And I never should’ve…” He could feel a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes and he wasn’t surprised that his voice was a bit gruffer when he next spoke. “I knew what we had was real. I know I questioned it for a second there but I always knew. That’s why it was so important to me that you were safe. But it doesn’t make what I did and said okay. And I’m sorry for that.” He ran his fingers lightly over your lips, wishing he could kiss you one last time, feeling you kissing him back. “I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek that he hastily wiped away. He stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly with his thumb. “And I always will.”

Not really wanting to pull away from you but knowing he was on a time clock, he reluctantly moved his fingers away from your face and laid his hand on your belly. He couldn’t feel anything except the taut skin underneath his fingertips, but it was enough to make him smile. “Being that you’re my kid, you’re probably going to give your mom a run for her money. Try not to make her too crazy, huh?” He let out a watery sounding laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t be there but your Uncle Sammy is going to make sure you and your mom are taken care of. Okay? He’s going to show you how to toss a ball around, help you with your homework, all that stuff. Just do me a favor, though. Don’t let him feed you kale the whole time and don’t let him get you into his true crime podcasts. The guy is a classic nerd, don’t let him turn you into one, too.” His smile slowly faded. “Saying all that, he’s one of the best guys I’ve ever known and I know he’ll be good to you, be good to your mom. So cut him some slack when you get older, alright?” He rubbed his thumb in gentle circles. “Take care of your mom for me. I’ll be watching over both of you. I hope I get to meet you someday.” Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your stomach before sitting up and coming face to face with Miracle. The dog quietly whined and Dean gave him one last good head scratch. “You look out for them, okay buddy?” The dog whined again and Dean patted him.

“Dean,” Cas gently called.

Dean nodded and slowly got to his feet. His eyes shifted to Sam who was sound asleep, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for taking care of them, Sammy,” he whispered. He didn’t vocalize that it was only temporary, that he was hell bent and determined to find a way to get back. His eyes then landed on you and he reached out to you one last time, trailing a fingertip along the dried tear tracks on your cheek. “Cas, can we just stay until they wake up?”

“Dean, Jack said—”

“I know what Jack said,” Dean snapped, glancing back at the angel whose parted lips pressed into a thin line. Dean immediately felt sorry for snapping at him; it wasn’t Cas’ fault and he wasn’t angry with him. He softened his tone. “I just want to be here when she wakes up. That’s all.” Cas seemed to be wrestling with his request. “Please, Cas,” he begged. “I just want to see her like this, awake.” He was slightly embarrassed at admitting that to his best friend but he wasn’t sure when he’d be allowed to visit again (and what he might be able to figure out to get himself back or how long it would take), and he had the strongest urge to see you up and about, walking around, pregnant with his kid. Not to mention he wanted to hear your voice one last time. “Please,” he whispered in a broken plea.

Cas stared at him for a moment before giving him a nod. “But after she wakes, we go back.”

“Thank you, Cas.” He meant it. While he highly doubted Cas would get into any real trouble on his behalf, he knew how difficult it must be for the angel to unwillingly push against Jack’s rules.

Dean turned back to you, carefully sitting down next to you, caressing your face. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured. He also made you a silent promise: he would do whatever it took to get back to you. His eyes briefly roamed to your stomach. To get back to both of you. Fate and the universe and all that crap be damned.

A/N: Sequel coming soon...

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles character

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starfilmz · 9 months ago

Text

SHOW ME WHERE IT HURTS — SAM W.

⤷ An argument between sam and dean lead for the younger winchester to call the teen help line his friends has been bugging him about. ᡣ𐭩

cw: gn!reader, sam pov, platonic relationships, maybe a little of mischaracterization, jess is here, swearing, takes place in s1ep1, unbeta’d so mistakes are around, inspired by dawson’s creek’s college help line and this fic (read if you like cj braxton or jensen!), alot of sam internal monologue. banner || gif

It all started one night when Dean arrived at his and Jess’ apartment, out of nowhere, and tried to bring him back into hunting because of their dad’s prolonged disappearance. Sam’s mind was already a jumbled mess because of his interview on Monday; his brother’s appearance and his attempt to make him leave Stanford were the last things he needed. He can’t just leave the life he’s been building on his own—at first, at least, now he had his friends, his Jess— and Sam wasn’t willing to let it crumble down for the man that had shut him out of his own family.

He was quick to reject Dean, not even when he used his brotherly tone on him.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dean said with a scowl. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Dad is—”

“I heard you, Dean.” Sam crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “And I meant what I said. This isn’t the first time Dad didn’t come when he said will.” He felt for Dean; he really did. If he were to have come sooner, before everything, Sam would’ve said yes. The guilt Sam had instilled in himself for leaving Dean weighed on his shoulders, but that wasn’t enough.

His brother’s frown deepened when he didn’t respond, though Sam could see the visible disappointment and anger in the boy’s eyes. The silence thickened the tension between them and deafened him—he swore he could hear Jess’ breathing in the other room.

Dean turned his head away from Sam, and with his jaw clenched in the same way he does whenever he wants to say something but refuses to. Sam, even with the little time he spent with Dean as a teenager, was able to pick up the facial expressions and unsaid words his brother would use when their dad was around.

“Fine.” It’s not fine. “I’ll go look for him myself, with or without you.” He meant that, actually. “Enjoy your little university, Sammy.” Go fuck yourself.

Sam suppressed a sigh as Dean left, who made sure to slam the door on his way out.

“That went well.” Jess was already behind him as she spoke. “He looked exactly as you described him; rugged and, I quote, like a ticking time bomb.” Her arms circled around his torso, managing to intertwine their fingers together. Sam remained quiet as he looked at the closed door.

He didn’t expect Dean to take his rejection so hard. Sam knew his brother was more than capable on fighting a house full of ghosts on his own, let alone finding a human being. Why did he need his help anyway?

Sam sighed, squeezing Jess’s hands. “It’s something you’ll need to get used to.” He turned around to plant a quick peck on the girl’s head, leading them back to their shared bedroom.

“I’m guessing this is a family matter you’re not going to share with me?” She asked as soon as she got on the bed.

“Jess...”

She smiled at him, though the corner of her lips didn’t exactly reach her eyes, and took his hand. Sam lets her gently pull him down beside her on the mattress, their feet planted on the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not going to pester you for it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but judging from what I’ve heard, you guys have a lot to talk about with each other, not your girlfriend.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed, running his fingers on his hair. “but I have a lot on my plate right now. I can’t just- you know, leave.”

Jess nodded, her expression never changing from her soft gaze. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about it, since you don’t give me much detail about it.” Sam looked like he was about to be say her name again in that same tired voice whenever they would talk about his family. “But I know where you can. Anonymously, so you could tell all the details without trouble.”

He groaned, letting himself fall horizontally on the bed. Sam knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s been what his friends have been doing since the announcement from the school board. It was some sort of collaboration between neighboring schools— Stanford created a teenage helpline specifically for the university close to them, and vice versa. Some students confided in the helpline since the counselors weren’t from their university, but Sam had refused to give in.

It felt stupid to spill all your secrets and personal problems to another person, who’s most likely the same age as him, and expect to get the answers he needed. Sam had to point out that the helpline was used for normal problems, but that wasn’t something he could say to his friends, who continued to force him into dialing them.

“Jess, c’mon, I highly doubt a student can fix my problem with just one phone call.” Sam dismissed the idea entirely, but Jess seemed to be persistent with it, anyway. She lay on his chest, letting Sam’s hand twirl with the ends of her hair.

“Who said about fixing? or that it’s just one phone call?” Jess adjusted her position on the bed, letting her legs rest on Sam’s. “Sometimes, a person just has to talk to someone to help them feel better. Obviously the counselor won’t fix your family’s situation, but they could probably help you from exploding the pretty head of yours.”

Sam glanced at Jess, and from the tired tone in her voice when she spoke up, it didn’t surprise him to see her already fast asleep on top of him. He smiled for the first time in a while after Dean appeared, and the cogs in his head began spinning. For as long as he could remember, ever since he began studying at Stanford, Sam had nights where he’d talk to himself in his head. Sometimes, it would be about a test he needed to take the next morning— a topic he could easily make conversation with— but it’s usually about his family, more specifically his brother, Dean.

Especially during his first week, Sam found himself sleeping in a place that wasn’t a dingy motel with a roommate who wasn’t his brother. Sam wondered at night what Dean would be doing, knowing sleep was the last thing on the list. Then he would feel his chest tighten— the one thing his dad didn’t want his sons to have was fear. As much as he believed in Dean and the remaining fatherly instincts their dad had, Sam couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt for every possible injury his brother had or would have because he wasn’t there to back him up. The thought of the older brother, whom he viewed as the strongest person he knew (despite his lack of saying so), all bruised and battered, cornered by monsters no person should be laying their eyes on in the first place, clawed onto Sam the whole night.

And the worst part of it all was that he had nothing to prove himself otherwise, leaving him chained to his own guilt.

Sam closed his eyes, his migraine coming just in time. If monsters weren’t going to kill him, he was sure it would be himself who would do so.

—-

The next morning, as soon as he got his first vacant time in between classes, Sam had to excuse himself from his friends, including Jess, who exactly knew the reason why he needed to go back to the apartment. It was a now-or-never situation, Sam believed. He gave Jess a chaste kiss before leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she answered, though he was already a few steps away to hear it.

Sam entered the small home, leaving his bag on the couch, and grabbed the telephone from the bedroom. He was already pressing against the buttons before he registered what he was about to do. When it rang, Sam immediately began to think about what he was going to say.

It was an anonymous call, but surely he doesn’t have to be fully honest, right?

Even if Sam had never talked about his former profession to other people, he knew ghost hunting wasn’t exactly a well-received topic.

“Help line. This is Y/N.”

Sam held his breath for some reason, scared that even the pattern of his breathing could easily be an indicator of who he was. His leg nervously shook below him, still unable to say a word into the mouthpiece. A few seconds passed, and he heard your voice again; this time he could clearly hear your voice against his ear. Sam assumed you got closer to the phone.

“I could hear something shaking from your end, if I’m not mistaken. That’s either your hands trembling on the phone, your legs shaking against the floor, or it’s something else causing it.” His eyes widened at your observation just by what you’re hearing. This caused him to voluntarily stop his leg, embarrassed by his action.

“I guess it was you.” Your tone remained careful, though Sam had no idea why. “If there’s anything keeping you from talking freely, press on any of the buttons, please.” The boy finally registered your sudden change of mood— you were worried for him. It started to make him wonder what type of phone calls you receive every day.

“There’s nothing. I’m alone.” Sam leaned against the couch with a sigh. “Just nerves, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. A lot of first-time callers feel the same way.” You reassured him. He was glad your voice sounded much calmer.

“You can track those?”

“I mean, yeah, since you guys are anonymous, it’s the only way we can keep up with regulars.”

In truth, Sam fully expected a whole spiel from you. Like a robot scripted into saying whatever’s appropriate for the caller, he wasn’t fully prepared for your laid-back tone and casual words, as if the two of you were just friends talking.

“So, anything troubling you today? or in general?” He didn’t realize he’d been quiet for a whole minute. Again, he was surprised by the amount of patience you’re giving him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yes.” Sam coughed into his fist at how awkward he sounded. “You guys don’t usually get family problems, don’t you?” He would assume so, seeing as both Help lines were created a few months before Midterms.

Sam heard a quiet chuckle from you. “We do, actually. A lot of Stanford students seemed to hate their parents more than we thought they would.” He doesn’t exactly fall far from them, Sam thought to himself.

“But we try our best not to fuel them. The Help Line is exactly what it is; we help, but only to a certain degree.” You continued, your voice full of the most sincerity he’s ever heard from someone. He could tell you were quite fond of what you do.

“I bet a lot of your callers were glad they decided to call you guys.”

“Maybe,” You paused for a moment. “are you?”

The change of topic caught him off guard. Sam didn’t exactly plan to keep the conversation going about you and Help Line; talking with you made him forget why he called in the first place. To catch that as well— you were really good of a counselor.

Sam nodded and realized what he just did before answering your question. “Yes, I am,” he couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “this is probably the most like-able conversation I had over the phone.”

You hummed as you listened. “Unlike-able people calling you often?”

"Not really, now. I did have a bit of an argument with my brother in real life last night. I didn’t like how it ended.” Sam’s words came out almost naturally, unaware of how open he’s currently being. You had that sense of familiarity in Sam’s head already, despite how little time has passed since the two of you spoke.

“Tell me about it.” And he knew you meant it, so he did.

Sam gave all the details of what happened last night with Dean, though he had to keep him under the alias of ‘Older Brother’ for his sake. He told you about his relationship with their dad and with Dean, how he was never the son he wanted him to be, which resulted in him leaving for good and his small journey to Stanford.

He was still weighing his decision to be completely honest with you, and he told you that as well.

“That’s totally up to you, really. If those details aren’t needed for what you need help with, then you don’t have to.” You responded, being the ever-understanding angel Sam was learning you were.

“I’m not really looking for fixing, if that’s what you’re thinking of helping me,” he recalled Jess’ words from last night. “I don’t like talking about these things with my friends or my girlfriend because they shouldn’t be burdened by my messed up life.”

You were quiet on the other line, except for the barely audible breathing that told him you didn’t hang up on him. Sam wasn’t expecting an immediate response; you needed just the amount of time to think of one, just like any other person in a normal conversation would.

“I’m all ears, then. I can’t imagine having to handle all that by yourself. This call isn’t just for fixing, I assure you; sometimes people just need to let out some steam to help them think, y’know?”

“That’s true,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “I make a bunch of wrong decisions when I’m all worked up.”

“Like saying no to your brother?”

Sam’s lips thinned into a straight line, as if he were a deer caught in headlights. His silence seemed to have made you continue speaking.

“Hey, like I said, I’m all ears, but questions are meant to happen when you’re listening,” you said, your voice lighter than before, as if you’re trying to bring back the friendly mood.

Sam smiled as you did, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it, yeah,” he said, tapping on the back of the phone with his finger, thinking about your question. “my mind was a bit out of it last night, not to mention the—”

Pausing on his words, Sam managed to catch himself from mentioning how Dean greeted him that night. He didn’t think that was information you needed anyway.

“Never mind. What I’m trying to say is, yes, maybe my answer was a bit of a ‘heat of the moment’ thing,” Sam confessed. To you or to himself?

“I’m glad you finally managed to catch up with yourself.” Your voice was filled with humor, a teasing tone that somehow made Sam’s heavy chest a little bit lighter as he playfully scoffed.

“Is it allowed for counselors to make fun of their callers?” He challenged, but had no intention whatsoever. The chuckle from your end made him grin.

“Only if it’s needed in the process.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

The banter ended with the two of you laughing at each other, though Sam was laughing at himself a little bit. He knew Help Lines existed for a reason, but Sam doubted he’d get this much help if another person who wasn’t you had picked up his call in the first place. You were a good person in a good job that fitted you.

Sam’s mind was a bit clearer for now, definitely better than usual, and he wanted to fix his mistakes as soon as possible.

He was the first one to break the comfortable silence. “Thank you, by the way.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” You seemed to be genuinely pleased at it, though. “the best way you can thank me is if you feel better than before.”

“I do. After this call, I’ll probably start looking for my brother, if I can find a way.”

“Of course, you will. I can’t exactly help with that, but if you need me in ways that I can, feel free to call back next week.” Sam smiled at the offer. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

“How would I know it’s you I’m calling?” He asked.

“My shift starts at three pm and ends at eight. If you don’t get me, you’re allowed to switch counselors. Just look for the charming employee named Y/N and they’ll direct you to me.”

“I think saying your name would be just fine,” Sam chuckled as he heard your whispered protest. “okay, okay, I’ll ask the charming employee named Y/N when I call again.”

Your switch of moods made him shake his head. “That’s the spirit! You promise?”

“The name or the call?” Sam teased.

“Preferably both, but mostly the call part.”

“Yes, yeah, I will. I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Oh, gossip!” You faked a gasp, making you laugh at your own jokes as well Sam. “I’m so glad this isn’t a recorded line.”

#sam winchester x you #sam x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #mentioned dean winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #spn fic #supernatural x reader #jared padalecki

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 3 months ago

Note

Sorry i made a mistake in the other one and i feel obligated to rewrite it, can you give us more of being best friend with OG air please?

I’m NGL, I really ran out of new headcanons for being friends with Air. Primarily because I have already written so many I feel like I would just be repeating myself! So I decided to write you a reader insert blurb with Air instead. Hope this is just as good! :’)

Also, here are some links to my Air HC’s already!

[Link]

Please enjoy!

Unbeta’d drabble

Reader Insert

G/N Reader

Sibling of Sin Reader

Platonic Friendship Air

Air is Grumpy and Old ™

Library Visit

You clutched two to-go cups of coffee in your hands as you reached the Library. The giant, wooden doors looming over you like imposing guardians set in the stone walls. By this point you had already mastered opening the medieval styled giants with your leg and back, even with your hands full. Carefully, you shouldered one of them open enough to scurry through. Not even minding when it closed behind you with a weighty thud.

There was sunlight streaming through the endless rows of books. You did a quick scan of the aisles as you slowly made your way to the front desk. Empty. But he was clearly here by the supplies left out. You cautiously set the coffee down and cleared your throat.

“Air?” You whisper yelled. Trying not to invoke the wrath of the library sentry that valued his peace.

When there was no response you tried again.

“Air?” A little louder.

You strained your inferior human ears, as your ghoul friend would say, trying to catch the littlest peep. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure anyone was in the library today! Back to the desk you took one more step out. Trying to strain your neck to see into some of the closer rows of books. You couldn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no shuffling of reshelved books. Not even the typical exasperated sigh.

It's not like him to be gone from his post… You sighed yourself.

“Ai-“

“I heard you.” A deep voice rumbled behind you.

You caught the scream before it came out of your mouth. Spinning around back to the desk and clutching your chest as your heart hammered in fright. You groaned and coughed as you doubled over- trying to catch your breath.

“Y-you scared me!” You hissed.

“Pity. If you were not impatient you would have seen me coming.”

“No, you’re just too quiet for your own good. I still think we need to put a bell on you.”

You waddled up to the giant ghoul, having to crane your neck to look up at his silver mask. Air impassively watched you from where he stood. Not bothering to stoop down and meet you eye to eye. It wasn’t a disrespect thing from what you gathered over the odd years of your friendship. It still baffled you how a monster over SEVEN FEET TALL could be so stealthy!

He didn’t dignify your comment with a response and just set the books he had been carrying down. You gave the titles a quick look. Handwritten Latin. The secured books for upper clergy.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You started, leaning over the top of the front desk to retrieve one of the cups. “I didn’t realize you were all the way in the back. You got up here pretty fast! Is it just you today?”

He didn’t speak until after you handed him the still warm cup. He took it slowly in his large hands.

“For now.”

You didn’t bother trying to sneak a peek as he lifted his mask. He was way too good as shielding his face under the mouthless mask.

“I guess everyone is at that thing today.”

“Where you should be.”

You know I don’t like crowds. Besides, I don’t feel like being out in the chapel all afternoon. And I DID agree to come help you.”

“Yes.”

You watched as Air snatched up the stack of books with one hand. Play rolling your eyes, you took them into your arms as he started to speak.

“Check those out for Bishop Marshall. He will be arriving within the hour to collect them.”

“Can’t we ever do anything fun around here?”

“I could have you resticker the entire inventory.”

“Ok touche. I’ll get these done.”

You smiled as you walked around the desk to sit and get the tomes checked out. Air watched you still holding his coffee.

“Don’t you have something to do, Air?”

“I’m supervising you.” He commented dryly.

“I didn’t know you were capable of jokes.”

“There’s much you don’t know.”

“Touche again.”

You loved your silly, grumpy friend.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #air ghoul #ghost reader insert #reader insert #ghost drabble #air

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thebumblecee · 2 years ago

Note

🌹🌹🌹 :)

Three roses means three lines right?

He loves all parts of his boyfriend but right now he’s thinking about his hands 24/7. It’s driving him to distraction. He stupidly let TK drive his car home from a bar they were at when he had a couple of beers and watching those hands all over the steering wheel when he was already a little tipsy had him dragging TK out of the car and into the bedroom.

#thanks B!!!#I’m really in the trenches with this right now!#it’s kicking my ass.#cee speaks #tarlos #writing #wip #all of this is unbeta’d so if you see a mistake no you don’t

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lucyandthepen · 3 years ago

Text

gorgeous | lmh ( m )

there is a part 2!

you don’t know what in the football uniform mark is wearing is so attractive. maybe it’s how broad is shoulders always look in that jersey. maybe it’s how nicely accentuated his ass is when he’s running. or, maybe, just maybe, it’s how painfully conspicuous the outline of his cock is through those pants.

or, you know. all of the above.

pairing: mark x reader rating: R genre: college / football au, romance, humor, smut warnings: kind of feels like pwp with just a bit of background pining I guess, semi-public (?) sex, oral sex, just good ol’ fashioned smut perhaps with minimal dirty talk. nothing depraved (yet). please be sure that you are 18+ to read! word count: 12.4k

author’s notes: i literally have nothing to say like . i just wanted to post something that would gain me access into the 18+ section of the nctzen library i guess :^) this is once again an edited fic, but it is pretty unbeta’d, so i’d love for anyone to point out any mistakes they see! since this has explicit content, please do not read this unless you are of age! honesty is the best policy, everyone. :^) enjoy !

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You know you’re done for the moment the sky opens up and starts raining.

You can’t even get off the field and run from the rain because it’s all a part of the whole cheerleading gig; if the playing team’s on the field, then you have to be, too.

Sometimes, you think that there are more drawbacks to being in this position. For one, it’s completely risk-heavy; you can’t remember a game where someone didn’t at least obtain a sprain or slip on the mud in front of five hundred people while trying to still look like everything’s fine. Pile on other issues, like having to cut back hours of free time in a week to practice, having to constantly fit and refit uniforms that you also have to shell out your own money for (because what else is the university’s budget for if not to pay for a yet another science lab?), and dealing with slightly catty teammates because on no particular day of the month is the entire team period-free, and you almost have a deal ready to be broken.

Just almost, though.

Possibly the only perk that beats all those downsides is the fact that you have free access to the football team and all their practices and games. Most days, you think it’s actually worth it to risk breaking your neck coming down from a human pyramid (or, worse, being the base of one, which requires the kind of upper body strength you don’t think you have a lot of in you) if you get to at least see eleven cute guys jogging around the perimeter of the field they share with your team for practice.

Oh, and, yeah, even if you had to pay for the cheerleading uniforms, they were kind of cute, in all honesty.

You look up as the first droplets fall on your head, and you can see the collective grimace that sweeps over the cheerleading team; one girl even stamps her feet and yells something about her not wearing waterproof mascara just as the rain mixes with the crowd’s cheers when it starts to intensify. It quickly forms a thick curtain, and you lift a hand up to your forehead to shield your eyes as you scan the field in front of you. Everything is just a blur of white and blue sometimes interrupted by the droplets that hang off your eyelashes, but you keep looking anyway. It shouldn’t be that hard to spot him because he’s fairly tall in his own right, you think, except it’s hard because so is everyone else — perhaps even more so — and he’s probably being eclipsed by all these jacked up guys from the visiting team.

You get called out of your search temporarily when the cheerleading captain plucks on your sleeve and tells you you’re all going to do one more routine; in that time, all you can do is think about not slipping on the mud that’s slowly deepening under your feet. Even your fucking pom-poms are a saggy mess.

The only time you manage to see him is when the referee’s whistle blows for a time out, and the teams troop back, somewhat sluggishly, to their benches. He always walks at the back of the line, like he’s careful to not get crushed between his teammates, even though they always tell him to walk with them. He glances up at the scoreboard; there’s two minutes of play left, and your home team is ahead by a mile, so he could sit pretty for the rest of the game and they’d probably still win.

In all honesty, no one had ever thought Mark would make the football team. Not even Donghyuck, his freshman roommate, who, in his own weird way, idolizes Mark (at times, to a fault). Not even you, his best friend, who had criticized him for never being active in any kind of extracurricular activity ever since you had met in your first year of high school. And especially not Mark himself, who had, in an attempt to get you off his back about being a hermit, tried out for college football just so that he could prove that he would never make it and would never fit in a team, anyway.

Except for some strange reason, he had. Inexplicably, he had even placed on the actual starting team instead of the reserve, like you and Donghyuck had initially guessed when he’d come home, slightly starstruck, with a jersey in his hand. You thought it was a joke — even though Mark rarely makes any of those in the first place — until he announced that he’d placed as a free safety and would be starting practice that coming Thursday.

You’d thought it was a joke even when Thursday came along, convinced he was just trying to one up you and get you to admit maybe it’s not a big deal if he’s essentially disconnected from the rest of society, until you actually saw him come out of the locker rooms and start doing laps with the rest of the team. At that point, something just… snapped.

Sure, Mark has always been attractive to you, in that kind of boy next door with the nice skin and the naturally casual laid-backness so many people try so hard to achieve, and a part of you has always been pretty aware of how appealing he was. You’d been pretty good at repressing it, though; only Donghyuck had slowly cottoned on over time, mostly because he refused to make friends with classmates he would only spend one semester with, which led him to tagging along on yours and Mark’s trips to the library (which he hates) as well as your trips to unlimited refill barbecue restaurants (which he loves).

(Sometimes he hangs out with some other freshman kid named Renjun, whom neither you nor Mark have ever seen, but Mark swears he exists because he sometimes finds that his bed seems to have been slept in on days that Donghyuck is much more vocal about how cool he thinks Mark is.)

“Why don’t you just tell Mark hyung that you like him?” Donghyuck had once asked when you’d both been sitting on the frontmost bleacher, waiting for Mark to finish a particularly long and seemingly grueling weekend practice. “You know it’s not like he’s going to think any less of you. Also, it would be better if you just ended up honest with him before he catches your dried up drool on your chin.”

You’d flicked him on the forehead, partly because he was sticking his nose into where it didn’t belong, but mostly because he was suggesting the one thing that would overturn the delicate internal balance you’d been carefully building up since the first day you’d met Mark.

Not that you’d never thought of it. You’d just been really, really good at talking yourself out of it, making excuses about how it’d probably just been your hormones telling you that you could stand to entertain a boyfriend or even a friend with benefits every once in a while. It had never really been about Mark, specifically.

Until now.

These days, you’re not so great at keeping yourself calm and collected at the thought of him. It’s the curse of being able to see him run across a field almost daily, his asscheeks tightening visibly when he lunges and the veins on his forearms bulging when he uses all his upper body strength to toss the ball. You’re thankful that cheerleading practice almost always winds up earlier than football practice because you can use the little gap between when you have to leave the field and when you have to see him again to do your homework together to take a cold shower or, when it’s really bad and your roommate isn’t around, to masturbate to the thought of him bending you over and pounding so deeply into you that you’re practically speaking in tongues.

And it’s never any one else’s face that you imagine looking up at during a blowjob. It’s always his.

You squint across the space between you and him, and even through the rain, your vision tunnels towards him. His shirt is soaked completely now, and it clings to his skin; you can see the deep curve of his spine and the definition of his right bicep even from here — proof that this football thing is really starting to shape his body in a way that is both frustrating and totally attractive to you. Behind the steady noise of the rain, you can’t help but give a slight whimper.

You’re not sure if it’s because you catch his eye or just because he feels like someone’s watching him, but he suddenly looks up at you, mirroring your expression and squinting through the rain. When he realizes he’s looking at you, the corners of his lips turn up into a small but genuine smile, and your heart skids dangerously, breaking its already fast rhythm. You respond with a bigger, goofier grin before you can stop yourself, and you see the whites of his teeth peek out as he laughs at your expression.

Damn you, Mark Lee. You gnash your teeth together as you turn away, but you’re really only chastising yourself. You hate that this is confusing. You hate that this situation is actually simple, but you’re too hesitant to do anything about it, so it becomes confusing. You hate that ever since Donghyuck had brought it up, you’ve been secretly planning out the ways you could just seduce him, and you also hate the slightly sick feeling that comes after those fantasies when you remind yourself that you’re being a hopeless pervert. You hate that the rain his making his pants just the slightest bit translucent, so you can see the outline of his cock just pushing against the fabric, and you almost want to scream because you really, really hate how much you wish he were fucking you with it at that exact moment.

Mostly, you hate that your body seems to be going through its whole mid-adolescent years sexual arousal phase all over again.

The referee’s whistle sounds through the air, and the team troops back onto the field and gets into position. Someone from the squad calls your name, and you walk stiffly over to join the routine again, trying to make excuses about how you’re wet from the rain and not from thinking too much about your best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You’re drenched by the time the game comes to a close, the home team scoring an impressive 6-1, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about the cheering and hugging that’s occurring all around you. You had just seen Mark bend over to pick up a bottle of water and scoped two whole eyefuls of his substantial ass stretching the fabric of his pants, so, yeah, you kind of have to do something about it.

It isn’t as easy as it seems in your head, though. For one, he’s being blocked by people much, much larger than you, and they’re traveling in groups — the referee and the vice principal, three of his teammates carrying the team’s water cooler over to throw onto the coach (boys, seriously), and the two teams’ mascots walking side by side, their costumes absorbing all the rainfall. There’s also the problem of people holding you back, like Park Sooyoung, one of the juniors on the squad, hooking her finger into the back of your shirt and dragging you backwards to shout very loudly into your ear that most of the girls were going to go to a McDonald’s with some of the players right now. You try to shake her off with weak excuses, but her grip is unnaturally strong.

“There still might be room in Jeno’s car, if you want to join,” she yells over the rain that’s practically torrential at this stage.

“No thanks,” you shout back, although you have the decency to at least keep your mouth a few inches away from her ear canal. “Stuff to do. Gotta shower, and all. And… Homework,” you add lamely when she gives you a disbelieving look.

“You can do it when we get back! Jeno’s car has a heater anyway. Aren’t you hungry?”

Hungry? No. Thirsty? Yes. But not in the physiologically necessary sense.

You manage to get her to cotton on that you have no intention of tagging along after a couple more refusals, making sure she zips off across the field with the rest of the squad before turning your attention back to Mark.

Who is no longer where he had been five minutes ago.

The weighty feeling of regret at a missed opportunity settles in your stomach as you spot him across the field now, nothing but a tiny white and blue dot disappearing into the boys’ locker room. The feeling is only alleviated slightly by you telling yourself that you didn’t even really have a plan anyway, so it was better that he’d disappeared before you got the chance to embarrass yourself.

The rain stops overhead suddenly; you look up to see a familiar baby blue umbrella covering you, and you let out a small sigh of relief.

“I thought you went back to the dorms already.”

“I almost did, but I saw you standing like a dumbass out here,” Donghyuck laughs. “You could just ask someone to sneeze on you if you really want to catch a cold.”

“What I really want is a hot shower and a snack,” you respond.

“I saw your teammates leave with Lee Jeno like three minutes ago. Why didn’t you go with them? I thought people liked you on that team,” he teases. You whack him in the face with a ruined, soggy pom-pom, but you don’t dignify his question with an answer. He spits out a piece of the paper that had stuck to his tongue on impact. "Oh, I see. Distracted by external elements? More specifically, external elements on Mark hyung’s body?“

"There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t wish you had a mute button.”

“My mom couldn’t afford the down payment for it,” he shrugs. “You know, I could always mention it to him if you’re too chicken —”

“I will never forgive you if you do that,” you cut him off. “Never. I will strangle you before I strangle myself if you tell him.”

“So you tell him,” Donghyuck snaps. “All you ever do is moon over him now. Just get laid so that we can go back to eating breakfast for dinner every Thursday instead of you never showing up or backing out at the last minute because you’re too worried seeing him eat pancakes will trigger hyperrealistic fantasies of him eating you out.”

“I don’t think that way!” You yell, but you’re glad that he’s not really looking at you, so he doesn’t see the flush that spreads like wildfire across your face.

“Fine; I won’t tell. But you have to soon. I can’t stand being in the middle of all this awkward atmosphere you’re suddenly creating. Plus, he keeps asking me if I’ve talked to you recently.” He shoots you a meaningful look that you ignore. “It’s not like he’s stupid. He thinks you’re avoiding him because you suddenly hate him, or something.”

“I’m trying to fix that,” you frown.

“Fix it faster,” he nags, and you smack the pom-pom into his face again. It’s satisfying to see how little bits of wet paper stick to his nose.

Donghyuck walks you to the locker rooms, overestimating the capacity of his umbrella by saying he’ll wait for you and Mark to come out so you can all head back to the dorms together. You try not to read too into the fact that he’s essentially forcing you to live through another fifteen minutes of wading through one-sided sexual tension and troop yourself into the locker room while he strolls off to the nearest waiting shed. It’s odd that you can’t hear any water running, and no one seems to even be inside. You figure everyone’s out making a mess out of the nearest McDonald’s until you turn on one of the showers and realize that there’s no hot water in the stall you’re in. And in the next one. And in the next one. Or the one after that.

You groan in frustration, now acutely aware of how sticky and heavy your uniform feels against your skin. You could always just shower at the dorm, but that just means staying and walking around in this state longer, which doesn’t feel like a very comfortable option. You could also just brave the cold, but in this weather, it doesn’t sound like a healthy idea.

Of course, there is one other way.

You weigh out your options briefly, but it’s not like there’s any better and more immediate choice. You gather your spare clothes and quickly exit the girls’ locker room, your hand over your mouth as though your breathing is going to be too loud and give you away.

The distance between the girls’ locker room and the boys’ locker room is less than ten steps, but because you’re trying to be unbelievably careful, the tiptoe over to its entrance feels like a mile-long and extremely stressful endeavor. You bump into one of the members, Jung Jaehyun, right as you’re about to enter, but he at least doesn’t seem to notice how guilty you’re looking, or the fact that you have a towel and a shampoo bottle in your arms.

“Hey, _______________,” he greets you, shaking the remaining water out of his hair. “I thought you would have gone with Jeno and Doyoung. Most of the cheerleaders did.”

“I wanted to take a shower first,” you say lamely. You don’t add the in your locker room part.

“Same.” There’s steam forming a thin cloud around him as he stands in the doorway, so you’re at least assured your rule-breaking isn’t going to go to waste. “If you’re going to catch up, maybe you can invite Mark to come along with you. I asked him, but he said he was just going to go home and rest. He’s like a grandpa.”

“Oh,” you swallow thickly. “He — is Mark in there? Still?”

“Yeah, he was talking to coach about something, so he’s still in there getting ready. Anyway, at least try to get him to tag along; it’s as much his victory as it is the rest of the team’s. Text me if you guys are both coming to McDonald’s later. I’ll save you seats.”

He gives you a pat on the shoulder before walking off; the rain has calmed into a light drizzle now, and you hear his jovial voice greet Donghyuck by the waiting shed, asking him if he wants to tag along for a burger.

This is… fine. It’s not a big deal. You really just want to shower. Except, you know, you’re not really sure how you’re going to explain yourself to Mark. Except, do you really have to? It’s just a shower. He’d understand. He… showers too, doesn’t he? Yeah. That’s good.

Even with this logic, you walk in carefully, trying to keep your steps as light and as quiet as possible. The rows of lockers in here somehow look longer and larger — male athlete privilege, you guess — but you’re grateful for the fact that maybe in this tiny labyrinth of lockers and benches, you can completely avoid Mark.

You almost do, too, right until your foot lands in a puddle and goes skidding so far you feel like your pelvis has snapped in half; with a squeak of surprise, you claw at the side of a locker row, making the loudest, most obnoxious set of sounds an accident could produce as you crumple to the floor, mildly shell-shocked.

“Who’s there?”

The voice is unmistakable, and you right yourself just in time for Mark to peek out from behind the set of lockers two rows down. His face morphs from initial alarm, to brief surprise, finally settling with confusion. You try your best to look as collected as possible, but it’s hard when you take the whole form of him in and notice that he’s already stripped off his shirt and remains only in his pants.

“Hey, um. Mark. Hey,” you force a smile out. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I was talking to coach,” he says in a small, slightly disbelieving voice. You don’t miss the once-over he gives your whole drowned rat aesthetic. “Sorry — what are you doing here, ____________?”

“I was, um—” you try to come up with something less stupid, but nothing sticks to you better than the truth, so you admit it anyway. “Just… wanted to take a shower here.”

“Oh… you know this… is the boys’ locker room,” he reminds you carefully, as if he’s trying not to hurt your feelings even if he’s essentially pointing out how stupid he thinks you are.

“I know. There’s no hot water in the girls’ locker room, so I thought… I thought I would just—“ you gesture around yourself, and Mark’s round eyes follow the course of your left hand.

“Right.”

“It would be really great if you didn’t tell anyone,” you add.

“I won’t. It’s just me in here, anyway.”

A terrible silence passes between you two. You can see the gooseflesh forming on his arms and shoulders from being exposed to the chill for too long. You’re acutely aware of how loud the sound of your heavy, wet skirt is when you shift your weight from foot to foot, and he’s watching you carefully, with this sort of strange, glazed-over look that you can’t read. You both open your mouth at the same time to speak.

“Have you been avoi—”

“Great game, by th—”

You stop at the same time too, and you share a nervous laugh. At this, the tension in his shoulders goes away, even though he does look slightly uncomfortable standing half-naked in front of you. He gestures for you to keep talking.

“You played great, was what I wanted to say,” you rub at your arm. “I know Donghyuck and I weren’t serious about it at first, but you really play like you belong out there.”

“Oh — thanks,” for some reason, even if it’s a compliment, he looks mildly disappointed. “It’s really just practice.”

“I know that you practiced hard, but I also think you play pretty naturally. And you run… well, too.” You avoided a bullet by biting your tongue down and keeping it from saying something about how good he looks running.

“Thank you.” He folds his arms across his chest, keeping out the cold as much as he can. “Do — have you been, you know, avoiding me?” You shake your head, but he continues to elaborate. “I can quit, you know, if you don’t like it — me being on the football team. If it’s taking up too much time that we can’t even hang out after, I don’t really want that to be the reason for us to just fall out. I already talked to coach about it, and he said—”

“Mark,” you speak over him, a little alarmed. “I don’t — of course I don’t want you to quit.”

“Oh.” He looks slightly relieved. “But, then, you’ve been—”

“Yeah, I know I’ve been missing in action,” you lick your lips nervously. “It’s just personal stuff, but like, not the serious kind? Don’t — I mean, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“I thought maybe you hated that I was on the team now,” he goes on.

“It’s not that. I love that you’re on the team.” More than you know. “I’m sorry; I’ll be better. We can do breakfast for dinner on Thursdays again, like we used to.”

He stares at you, like he’s unsure of how to phrase his next thought into a meaningful sentence, so he just nods and settles with a shorter, “Donghyuck will like that.”

The next silence kills you as the desire to explain yourself bubbles up again, but the dying purity inside you causes you to swallow it back. Mark is the first to break the silence this time, without any interruption from you.

“I should really go take a shower.”

“Oh — yeah, me too,” you gesture vaguely to the exit with your thumb. “Donghyuck’s waiting for us.”

“Better not keep him standing out there in the rain, then,” he points jerkily to the next row of lockers. “You can just change there. Or wherever else. I’ll be in the shower anyway.”

You nod your thanks, not trusting yourself to speak clearly anymore, opting to shuffle to where he’d indicated. You’re all alone on this side of the lockers, but you can hear Mark moving about, a locker door opening and closing as he gets his things ready. You have to keep reminding yourself to stay on target instead of listening in like some creepy maniac, but you pause, swallowing thickly as you hear the tell-tale sound of wet fabric hitting the concrete floor, and you know that’s him taking off the last article of clothing he has on.

You think that this experience can’t be good for your mental health, but it doesn’t even matter because your mind is so invested in the idea that Mark’s bare body is less than four feet away from you that it can’t think about its slow, inevitable death.

The sound of a shower curtain being pulled close followed by water running signals that Mark is in the shower. You peel off the rest of your clothes, and hold your towel close to your chest as you walk over to the stalls. The one that he’s occupying falls right under the ceiling light, so you can see his blurry silhouette move through the fairly thin curtain. Your throat is dry, and you want to walk past it to get to the next stall, but you stop right in front of it, weirdly mesmerized by his form.

“Mark,” you say before you can stop yourself. You see him stop and listen, one hand still in his hair, frozen in the act of shampooing. His head turns, and you can tell he knows you’re standing right outside the stall, mere inches away from him.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds different — maybe higher and a little more frail, although you assume it’s just the steam affecting his vocal chords, or whatever excuse your mind half-assedly churns out.

“I have been avoiding you,” you confess, doing that stupid shifting from foot to foot thing again. Something like a sigh escapes his lips, rising above the stall along with the steam.

“I knew it. Do you really not like me being in the team that much? You should have just said so. I told you, I can quit — really. Our friendship is more important than some sport I didn’t even know how to play six months ago.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you chew your lip. “It’s more that I like it so much I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What? Football?”

“No. You playing football.”

Something hits the floor inside — probably a bar of soap — and you see Mark fumble with it for a moment before straightening back up. He doesn’t say anything, though, so you press on.

“Ever since you started playing, I sort of felt like you were — I don’t know. Different? You look different for sure, but you act differently; you even walk differently. But not in a bad way. Like, in a good way. A really good way. And it’s distracting me a lot, so for my own, um, sake, I had to… take a step back.”

You feel like you’ve said everything you can at this point without giving extreme on-the-nose specifics or a terrible love confession, so there’s nothing for you to do except wait for a response. When it comes, it isn’t what you’re really expecting.

“Actually, I don’t think there’s any hot water in the other stalls either,” he says in a careful voice, so soft that it’s almost drowned out by the water.

“I can just shower after you,” you mutter in disappointment. The conversation seems over for a brief second until he replies with a much firmer voice.

“There won’t be any hot water after I shower.”

“I’ll just go to the dorms, then.”

“_____________,” he says your name in slow, deliberate syllables. “There won’t be any hot water there either. Trust me.“

You stare dully at his form through the shower curtain for what feels like forever until something dawns on you, and a mild shiver runs down your spine — not at the cold but at the thought of your interpretation being correct. Slowly, carefully, you toss your towel so that it hangs next to his on the metal rod on the shower curtain. You wait for him to protest, but all he does is make his silhouette grow slightly smaller as he steps back, and you take this as a good sign, pulling the shower curtain aside and quickly stepping into the stall before your nerve completely abandons you.

You’ve never seen Mark naked before. It’s not like you’ve tried before recently, but when you think about it now, you feel like your assumptions have slightly undersold him. He’s always been on the slightly lankier side (at least, in your opinion), and even with all the toning up he’s done, you don’t actually expect him to look this… good. His muscles are actually well-defined now that you can see the shadows they create under the light, and his body is extremely well-groomed.

His cock is slightly bigger than you’d initially imagined, too, probably because you’ve only ever guessed at its form through stolen glances. It’s as long as you’ve assumed, but its girth is strangely more than the football pants had let on. You wonder if it had always been like this or if he had grown into it over a span of, like, ten years, and then you feel like a pervert again for being more concerned with that more than the fact that your best friend is backed up against the wall, regarding you with wide eyes.

His lips are parted, and the water coming down from the shower catches on its curves and rolls down, creating a new dimension to them. It takes all of your self-restraint to stop yourself from kissing them at that exact moment.

Your gaze meets his, and nervousness overtakes your lust; you have to remind yourself that he wanted this too — invited you in — just so that you don’t make a run for it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever—” He swallows hard; the water on his lips make them look slick and irritatingly delicious. “Told you why I stayed on the team either.”

“Now’s a good time,” you say quietly, trying to be nonchalant, which is stupid, because your naked bodies are at most two feet away from each other.

“At first, I was thinking we could hang out more, since you were always caught up in practice during the afternoons. But recently, I—” Mark lets out a nervous chuckle. “When we take breaks, I watch you practice. I’ve never actually seen you; you look so pretty when you dance.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, feeling a blush crawl up your neck. “When have you ever said something like that to me?”

“What? You thought you were the only one brave enough to confess?” He laughs a little more easily. His back is off the wall now, body a little closer to yours. Whether this is intentional or not, you don’t know, and you don’t ask. “I was thinking… that I would pluck the courage to ask you out soon, but then it felt like you were ignoring me, and I worried, I guess?” He’s shifting from foot to foot now, too; the habit seems to be contagious. “I thought you didn’t like that I was on the football team.”

“I’ve always liked it. Maybe a little too much.”

He’s inches closer now; you think that this can’t be some random set of movements he’s unaware of. You’re also vividly aware of how hard his cock is, standing erect extremely close to your thigh.

“I’ve always liked you,” he murmurs. “Maybe a little too much.”

“You never acted like it,” you accuse him without real heat. He smiles, more to himself than anything.

“I didn’t really know until the first time I saw you out on the field,” he chuckles. “If you hadn’t said anything first, I might have taken it to the grave, too.”

“I guess I have to live up to being the pushier one in this friendship now and then.”

He laughs, a rich sound that causes a pleasant shiver to pass through your body. Mark notices the slight movement, and he reaches out, pausing in hesitation before taking your waist, his palms pressing against your flesh.

“We’re in the shower together,” he mumbles as if it’s the first time he’s noticing. “Two hours ago, I was worried you were going to stop being my friend.”

“We’re in the shower together,” you repeat, a small smile lifting your lips. Mark mirrors the action. “I think that fact kind of trumps your fears.”

It takes him a while to say anything, his fingers doing most of the work by trailing along your side, dipping into the curve of your waist and skimming over your hip. The steam curls up over the both of you, creating a thin veil that leaves his skin glowing. He only speaks up again when his hands place light pressure against your skin, and he draws closer with this anchor, his eyes traveling further down the landscape of your frame.

“I—” he lets out a nervous laugh. “I can’t believe — we must be breaking twenty school rules right now.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not really. It’s new to me, but — you know. It’s not that weird; not when it’s with you.” His eyes move up again, gaze meeting yours. “Do you?”

“Mind?” You laugh, and his smile widens at the sound. “Not at all. Not when the pay off is looking at you this way.”

He stops pulling himself closer until you’re almost nose to nose, and he replaces his hands with his arms, slowly winding them around your form. From this level of closeness, you can see the droplets of water forming on his eyelashes, dripping down the curve of his cupid’s bow.

“You said,” he tries again, his voice a little softer now — a whisper just for the both of you. “You said I was distracting you.”

“You were.”

“How?”

“I thought a lot about you,” your voice is level with his, almost drowned out by the sound of the shower spray.

“What did you think about?”

You hesitate. The situation at the present is well-established for sex, but you somehow still feel like you’re the only impure one in this stall. Mark is watching you, though, his expression somewhat expectant but mostly genuinely curious. You decide to go the gradually honest route.

“At first, I just… thought a lot about how different you were on the field. You’re more confident; you’re more… alive, I guess?” You laugh at your poor choice of words. “I was surprised, but I liked it a lot. But, um — more recently, you’ve been playing a more active role in the fiction-generated part of my train of thought.”

“Like how?”

You check his expression, and nothing has changed, except maybe his eyes have grown slightly wider.

“I think about… us,” you admit, suddenly refusing to meet his gaze for the rest of your spiel. “I thought a lot about situations where I’d get to see you like this. Where I would get to touch you and taste you.”

You’re so close to him now, wound up in his figure that you feel the shiver run through his body. He clears his throat. “Do I get to touch and taste you in any of those distracting thoughts, too?”

Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out, and he looks… amused now. Slightly nervous, but there’s a small twinkle in his eye that is unmistakably mischievous. When you don’t respond, he plows on anyway.

“You’re not that special, ____________,” he teases breathily. Your eyes snap up to his again. His face is growing pink, but he doesn’t have any intention of stopping, clearly. “What? Like you’re the only one who’s allowed to think about us? I think about it, too. Sometimes I think about lying in bed with you. Other days, I think about making love to you. Most days, though…”

He sucks in a deep breath; you notice that his arms are shaking a little, like the act of saying so many things at once has drained him of a bulk of energy, but his grip around your waist only grows tighter, and his cock, pressed between your stomachs, twitches.

“Most days I just think about kissing you.”

“Well,” you say, a little hoarsely. “Great minds think alike.”

Mark laughs right before he presses his mouth against yours, cutting the sound off with your lips. You initially assume that it’s going to be brief, but he seems to decide that now is not really the time for elementary-school-style chasteness, opting to part his lips against yours quickly and flicking his tongue out against the seam of your lips. You eagerly respond in kind, coaxing his tongue into your mouth and allowing him to explore it, the wet muscle flicking against your palate and passing over the ridges of your teeth. It kind of tickles, actually, and you want to laugh, except that would ruin the moment you’ve worked so damn hard for, and you would never forgive yourself for that.

His hands are at your sides again, skimming up and down your skin with more fervor, and you return the favor by pressing your palm against his chest, fingers tracing long, slow lines down his chest, one digit catching on his nipple. You’d say something about how cute the consequent shiver is, but you’re currently rubbing your tongue against his eagerly, so you don’t really get to. There’s no other word to encompass Mark’s taste; it’s just clean — fresh, a little bit minty, maybe, and sharp in the most pleasant of ways. A moan passes between you, and you’re not sure who the source is, but it causes your lips to vibrate against his.

Both of you are under the spray of the shower now, the warm water constantly running between your lips, and your hand follows the liquid trail downwards, stopping just above the base of his cock. Mark stiffens, and for a brief moment of panic, you think maybe you’re acting too fast. The fear dissipates just as quickly as it comes when his lips mouth against yours more eagerly, his teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip. You let out a soft whine, and he pulls away, his face suddenly morphing into unparalleled concern.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry.”

“No,” your fingers, acting on the unspoken green light, wrap around his shaft, and you can see him trying extremely hard not to drop his eyes and stare. A low huff escapes him. “I just wanted to do that to you first.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really have the time to be competitive about this? Right now?”

“I guess not,” you admit. “I should probably focus on what I’m doing, anyway.”

His second laugh segues into a low moan as your hand begins to stroke his cock slowly; it’s almost weird how much more heightened your arousal is at the sound, coupled with the sight of his jaw going just a little bit slack, his eyelids dropping halfway. You’ve never seen Mark like this — in fact, you’re fairly certain no one has, and the thought of you being the first to witness pleasure on his face makes you feel maybe a little inappropriately emotional at a time like this. Luckily, the sounds he’s making are some you’re wholly willing to focus on instead.

He leans back in, and you’re prepared for another sweet kiss, but he dips his head, soft lips landing on your shoulder. His kisses are firmer this time, more audible against your skin, and he trails them along the curve of your shoulder inwards until he reaches the dip of your neck. Something that doesn’t feel like his lips presses against your skin there — it’s his tongue, you realize a little belatedly as he licks a slow, careful stripe up your neck, causing a soft, surprised moan to leave you, and the hum that rumbles in his throat as he kisses back down your neck leaves small, tingling patches against your skin.

You also think his mouth is content where it is, but it seems like Mark has a penchant for the unexpected that you’d never been fully aware of, because his lips trace a messy line even further down. When his hands come up your sides, they stop just above your stomach, and you feel his thumbs stretch out, tracing the lower curve of your breasts slowly. You’d planned on saying something — maybe to egg him on (the specifics hadn’t been laid out in your head yet) — but that plan flies out the window when he bends a little more, his lips tracing a small spiral around your nipple before he takes it between his lips.

“Holy shit.” The electric shock of his lips causes you to tighten your fingers slightly on his shaft, and your hand moves at a slightly quicker pace. You’re satisfied to hear the groan that sounds against your skin, even though this triumph is easily overwhelmed by the feeling of him sucking diligently — almost reverently — on your nipple, his hand cupped under your breast with just the right amount of pinch.

The stall is filled with steam now, but with it rises the frequent sounds of your moans and heavy breaths. The water beating down on you makes Mark’s cock interestingly slippery, letting you speed up your strokes with little friction or resistance. The result is amazing; while his head is still bent, lips pressed down on your skin as they move relentlessly against your nipple, you see his hips moving slightly against your hand. You try to push past the haze of pleasure his fingers and mouth on your body are creating and slow your hand to a stop. You’re absolutely fascinated by the fact that even though he makes a soft, slightly questioning noise, his hips are still rocking in minute motions against your hold. Not for the first time, you feel faint in the shower stall; you’d never imagined you’d see Mark fucking himself into your hand, but here you are, witnessing it in high definition, and it’s glorious.

It doesn’t last for long, but it’s still a good enough amount of time before he realizes you’re almost motionless, dazed by the sight. You almost miss his question entirely. “What’s wrong?”

“You,” your words come out breathless. “Are so hot. It’s not fair.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He chuckles softly. You meet his eye now that the mini show is over. He’s looking up at you, wide-eyed and amused, lips still unintentionally grazing against your nipple.

“Can we try something?” You ignore him entirely, but thanks to his general personality, he doesn’t complain; he just nods a little in response. No sooner has he pressed a tiny kiss to your nipple do you back him up against the shower stall’s wall, and he straightens his posture. Your plan is only slightly derailed when he reaches up, cradling your face and landing a brief kiss against your lips. He doesn’t say anything even as he watches you take a small step back before you carefully sink up to your knees or even when you place your palms flush against his thighs. The only time he actually starts asking questions again is when you brush your lips against the tip of his cock, to which he responds with a soft intake of breath.

“What’s the plan here, ___________?”

“I’m going to put your cock in my mouth,” you announce, and you don’t miss how his eyebrows lift slightly. “And you’re going to move your hips. Can we do that?”

“I don’t think I’m going to live through it,” he rasps. “I’m actually two seconds away from a heart attack.”

“Well, hold it in,” you laugh softly, but he doesn’t join in this time; you can tell he’s torn between keeping himself in check and just letting his desire take the reins entirely. He stares down at you, chest rising and falling a little more aggressively. “Come on. Please?”

“I’ve never done that. What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” you make the promise for him. “Just do it slowly. I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Please?”

“You know you’re being unfair. It’s really hard to say no when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this. Kneeling down in front of me. You know. Begging me,” his hands curl into your hair, making more of a mess of it. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter than ever. “Okay. We can try.”

He doesn’t lead you closer like you think he will with his hold on your hair, so you take the initiative, parting your lips so that your tongue can flick out against the tip of the head. It elicits a shiver that visibly runs through his body, and that’s all the invitation you need to wrap your lips around his cock. His grip tightens minutely, and he looks down at you again, still somewhat concerned. You think it would be kind of stupid to just nod with part of a dick in your mouth, so you squeeze his thighs lightly. Luckily, Mark gets the signal, and with a soft, drawn-out exhale, he starts to move his hips shallowly.

It’s nothing extreme at this point, really; the tip doesn’t even hit the halfway point of your mouth, and he’s moving so carefully that a kid’s gait might outrun him at this rate, but the look on his face is exquisite. Mark in any angle is attractive, and you’ve long come to admit this, but you haven’t been able to decide on which angle is actually his best. You’d always assumed it was his profile, but the view you have now, with him looking down at you, gaze burning, his lips formed around an unspoken ‘o’ of pleasure, has trumped every other angle by a mile.

You still think that him being quiet isn’t so much what you wanted — in fact, the minutes you’ve spent in the shower have not only come to embolden you but have also sparked a weird, internal competitiveness that makes you want to push all of Mark’s buttons until you can find the one that makes him noisy. So far, you’ve gotten a few moans out of him, but nothing that feels satisfying. Even when you roll your tongue against the underside of his cock with every slow pump into your mouth, he doesn’t do much but hum or groan a little, brow furrowed in concentration. You want to egg him on, but you don’t know how, and you’re also not sure how far down his cock you can go before something unfortunate happens.

The solution presents itself when you focus a little less on Mark’s face and more on his cock; more than half of his length is exposed to hot air and water. Your right hand leaves his thigh as your left one gives his thigh another reassuring squeeze, and your fingers once again wrap around the now familiar shape of his shaft just as he rolls them forward.

Mark swears sparingly, especially since he tries to avoid situations that stress him out enough to get him to drop a bomb. For some reason, that just makes it more potent and extreme, like it’s a signal that indicates just how far something’s pushed him. It’s not surprising that you feel some kind of pride swell in your chest when the first out of a long string of fucks suddenly falls from his lips, hoarse and frustrated. His other hand joins the one already tangled in your hair, and there’s an uncharacteristic glassiness in his eyes as he rocks his hips forward with more intent.

“Fuck, ____________,” he slows his litany of curse words with your name, tongue peeking out to catch the water that’s pooled just above his upper lip. “Fuck, you look so hot. What the fuck.”

You can’t respond, so you make a pleased noise in the back of your throat that resonates down his shaft, and he tilts his head back at the feeling. His Adam’s apple bobs dangerously, like he’s swallowed down the rest of his obscenities, and you can’t see much of his face apart from his jawline, which has tensed into a sharp angle.

Your left hand finally leaves his thigh, assured that he won’t need any more guidance, and it finds its way between your legs. You’ve gotten off embarrassingly quickly by imagining Mark like this — moaning, erect, drowning in pleasure because of you — but now that it’s playing out in real time in front of you, you have all the content you could ask for and more. Your fingers find your clit, rubbing it with the same speed his hips are following, and while you haven’t had much practice with your subordinate hand, it doesn’t even matter; you’re so turned on that even half-assed masturbation could probably get you off easily at this point.

You actually think this is how it’s going to end — with Mark fucking into your hand and mouth until he cums, with you fingering yourself until you climax as well — but that fantasy comes to a disappointing halt when he stops moving his hips again, panting as he finally finds the strength to look back down at you. His hands lead your mouth back, easing your lips off his cock as he lets out a soft noise of relief.

“Why’d you stop?” Your mouth feels a little numb, so you stumble over your words somewhat.

“Wa — are you fingering yourself?” He asks, fascinated and now ignoring your question, drawing his head back in a vain attempt to get a better angle.

“You looked so good,” you state, like this should explain everything. “You tasted so good. Why did we stop?”

“As hot as that was, and it was really hot,” he chuckles. “I kind of feel like it’s unfair that you’re keeping your pussy to yourself.”

His voice and words make your chest clench so hard that you can’t even make a noise; your mouth just forms soundlessly around an incredulous oh my god. Mark’s thumb traces your lips as they move.

“Think you can still stand?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. Your calves and thighs had started burning a few minutes into this position, considering you’d spent a good part of the evening before running around and jumping. “If I can’t, will you kneel down with me?“

“Yeah. But let’s try getting you up first.” He takes both of your hands, and you use his hold as leverage, slowly getting to your feet. Your face is impossibly close to his, and his hands are back around your waist. You can see a streak of water slide down his nose, and you lean in to press your lips to the tip, stopping it in its tracks. Mark laughs again, a low rumble of a sound that comes from his chest. “You good?”

You nod, opting to to spend more of your energy on pressing a kiss to his lips again; he returns it without hesitation, but it only lasts very briefly. When he pulls away, you notice that he squeezes your hips a little tighter.

“Turn around,” His voice is still soft, but it’s lost whatever hesitation he’d had before this moment. You follow wordlessly, keeping yourself as close to his form as possible, and his hands never leave your waist, skimming over your stomach. Even if you hear him take a small step back to adjust, you can still feel his cock hard against you, settled between your asscheeks. You press your hips back against his, closing whatever tiny gap he may have made, and you hear him laugh quietly again.

The one regrettable thing about agreeing to turn around is that you can’t see him anymore; his hands move across your skin, rising and falling over the curve of your ass, but you can’t watch him do it without putting a lot of strain on your neck. You have to content yourself with imagining his expression as his fingers dig into your skin lightly, spreading your cheeks apart slightly. At least he makes a sound — a low, appreciative hum that gives you just enough to guess.

He shifts his stance, moving his cock downwards before his hands ease them between your legs; you feel his length pressed up against your folds, and he starts to rock his hips again in the same slow, controlled movements that seem almost trademark. You make the mistake of not keeping your volume in check as you let out a moan, feeling the tip rub against your clit.

Fingers crawl up your stomach, his hands briefly stopping at your chest to squeeze at your breasts. He keeps one hand in place while the other continues its journey, settling gently at the base of your neck. His forefinger stretches upward slightly to press against your lips.

“Someone could hear you.”

“We’re the only people left.”

“You don’t know who could be outside,” he sounds amused at your quick, nonchalant response.

“I don’t think they can hear us from outside. Even if they did, they wouldn’t know who’s in here,” you pause before smiling against his finger. “Unless you want them to.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can be a little more specific, if that turns you on.”

Mark falls silent, clearly trying to decide how to proceed. His finger traces the shape of your lips before falling lax in front of them, and you take this opportunity to flick your tongue out against it.

You expect him to retract his hand, or something, but you don’t expect his hips to jerk forward a little in surprise, and you let out an even louder moan as his cock skims against your folds. Your thighs close a little more deliberately, adding to the friction.

“Jesus.” His voice is thick, distant, like he’s choked up on something. You can only imagine that he’s probably gritting his teeth, which is a sight you wish you could see, if you weren’t so intent on pushing this newfound button of his.

“Mark,” you breathe out. You feel his cock twitch between your legs. “I want you inside me.”

As soon as you finish your sentence, you part your lips, taking his finger into your mouth. There’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, and you waste no time in bringing your lips down to the knuckle, suckling languidly.

You hear him say something about a heart attack again, but he complies, pulling his hips back so he can align himself to your entrance. In your impatience, you push your hips back. Your moans harmonize as you feel him enter you, and he only waits a moment to collect himself before he’s slowly pushing in, his grip on your breast tightening a little. He’s careful, so careful, like he’s worried if he moves too suddenly you’ll freak out and leave. Reluctantly, you release his finger.

“More,” you murmur when he seems to be slowing to a stop. “I want all of you.”

“You need to relax or something. You’re so fucking tight. Holy shit.”

“You don’t have to act like I’m made of glass,” you laugh softly before letting out a noise of frustration as he actually stops halfway. “Mark.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. But also,” he exhales a little shakily. “This view is nice. Like, really nice.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been wet since I saw you shirtless outside,” you admit. He makes an amused sound. “Come on. I want to feel all of you stretch my pussy.”

“If you keep talking like this I’m just going to cum on the spot,” he warns. “Is this the kind of dialogue you’ve been imagining we’d have during sex?”

“Sort of.” You don’t even have it in you to sound sheepish; you’ve focused your attention on more pressing matters, like trying to push yourself further along his length. “You’re kind of nastier in my head though. But that’s probably my fault more than yours.”

“Okay, now that just makes me more curious.” His hands realign at your hips before moving backwards, and he spreads your asscheeks again, gripping your flesh a little more tightly as he inches himself forward. You finally let out a soft sigh of relief when you feel his hips flush against yours again, and your walls pulse around him. “Tell me what else you and I say in your head.”

“Why don’t you start moving,” you suggest. “And we’ll see what comes out of my mouth.”

He hums in assent before drawing his hips back and rolling them forward; the soft moan that comes from you is a signal for him to keep going. Mark thrusts in the same manner he seems to do everything in his life — cleanly, carefully, thoroughly. It feels good, but you can also tell he’s holding back, because his grip on your hips is unconventionally tight for his current pace.

It’s actually quiet apart from the intermittent sounds that pass between you; you actually think about saying something dirty, but you put that thought aside when it feels a little too sudden after a silence. You chew on your lip, trying to figure out how to get him to let loose without sounding way too demanding about it. It’s only when you think about Mark’s words — his heightened concern — that you start to pinpoint what the problem is.

“It’s not just about hurting me, is it?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re worried about something else.”

“Is it that transparent?” He chuckles softly, his hips slowing to a stop again. You decide to let it slide this time.

“You were fine before this,” you point out. “You even said—”

“I know, I know.”

“Do you not want to… anymore? It’s okay, you know. If you don’t,” you add quickly.

“Wha — no,” this time, it’s his voice that rises a little. “No, that’s not it at all. I’ve always wanted to — you have no idea how much I’ve…”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. A while ago, I was kind of in the heat of the moment, and you looked so… so hot, and it was all good, and then, just now, I just realized,” he laughs softly at nothing in particular, but it’s an embarrassed kind of laugh. “I might not live up to your expectations at all.”

You want to throw him a look of disbelief, but you can only turn your head so far sideways, so you can’t see his face fully. You settle with giving him a side eye that you hope translates just how absurd you think he’s being.

“Are you kidding?”

“I don’t want our first time to be disappointing for you,” he continues. “If you have standards, and I don’t meet them, won’t it be too awkward for us after?”

“I really want to look you in the eye right now, but since I like the fact that you’re still inside me while we’re having this conversation, you’re just going to have to imagine me looking a little sternly but affectionately at you,” you instruct, and he snorts softly. “Mark, the one and only standard I have for any fantasy I’ve ever had is that you’re part of it. Since you’re here, I think we can call this a win.”

“So after this…?”

“After this, we’re going to take Donghyuck out for a late dinner, and if we still have the energy after that, you’re going to tell him to sleep in Renjun’s room so I can come over and ride you, or something.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he hums approvingly. “I guess I could roll with that, then.”

“So stop holding back,” you groan. He chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder blade, the act of him nodding causing his lips to brush against your skin. This time, without your prompting, he starts to move his hips again, pulling them back and rolling them back forward with more resolution. “Fuck. Okay, this, I’m on board for.”

His breath cools against your skin as he laughs silently, but it doesn’t last long; he focuses more of his energy on his movements, and you can hear a low groan echo from the back of his throat. His palms move to press against your stomach lightly, but one of them slides further downward. You feel his fingers press against your clit, rubbing it in intense circles that match his pace. You moan low, feeling yourself tighten around him again.

“I guess shower sex has that whole keeping you super wet perk.”

“Nope,” your voice is higher than usual, but it isn’t cracking yet, at least. “That’s all you.”

“Yeah, I kind of just wanted to hear you say it,” he chuckles. Your admission of it seems to renew his confidence, and his thrusts grow sharper, his two fingers spreading your folds so he can rub the middle one along your slit, having it brush against your clit with every upward stroke. You can’t help but squirm a little at the stimulation, but he keeps you firmly in the embrace of his other arm.

“You like hearing how wet you make me?”

“It’s suddenly become my new favorite topic.”

“I’ll be sure to bring it up at every appropriate time,” you promise. “Like when you’re balls deep in me, or something.”

“Great plan,” his voice sounds a little short, but your assumption is just that he’s trying to conserve his breath now that he’s giving it his all. Now that he’s not burdened with irrational worries, he’s fallen into the delicious pattern of drawing his hips back almost until he’s out of you before snapping his hips forward, burying himself back into you until the base. The feeling of being filled doesn’t turn you on as much as the idea of him being the one who’s filling you, and your moans increase in pitch and volume with every thrust. He doesn’t even try to shush you anymore; in fact, you feel like it’s sort of driving him, considering that he seems to move his hips more intensely whenever you moan his name, prolonging the last syllable.

The hot water is starting to run out; you feel even more goosebumps on your back and shoulder as the water starts to cool down. Your teeth are digging hard into your bottom lip because you’re desperately trying to hold back the fact that you’ve been humiliatingly close to cumming since you’d felt his cock against your clit, but you can feel yourself pulsing around him dangerously. Just when you’re about to confess, though, he suddenly pushes his hips harder into you, suddenly stopping with a low groan.

“Mark —“

“Don’t be mad,” he mutters, his voice dangerously low. “But I’ve been holding myself back since you gave me that blowjob.”

“Technically, you fucked my mouth —“

“Yeah, whatever, that really hot thing you did that almost made me blow a load,” he snaps. You feel his cock throb inside you, and you mewl.

“I’m really fucking close too,” you admit, and he doesn’t skip a single beat. His hips jerk up, allowing him to grind his cock into you for one intense second as he pulls your back flush hard against his chest. He buries his face into your shoulder, and you can feel his short, labored breathing as he pumps into you.

You can’t even form coherent sentences to keep egging him on, so you’re just stammering at this point, switching between Mark and so close and a string of obscenities that heightens in volume when you feel yourself tighten right before you reach your peak. Even when your shoulders tense and you fall into a blissful silence in your climax, Mark doesn’t stop, diligently fucking into you in his determination to keep you riding your high. It doesn’t end when you come back down, either, and you’re a whimpering mess in his arms, nails digging into his forearms and repeatedly moaning out how much you want to see him cum.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and his voice breaks uncharacteristically; he’s close, but he’s still going, his thrusts growing erratic and sharp. “Fuck, _____________.”

“Mark,” you whine, neediness thick in your voice. “Let me blow you again.”

“You feel so good, though,” he whispers reluctantly. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Mark—”

“Shit, I know,” he groans, easing you away. You turn to look at him, and the sight makes your knees weak; his brow is furrowed, and his hand on his cock, stroking it haphazardly. His lips are parted slightly, and he’s staring at you with a burning desire that somehow makes you wish you hadn’t asked him to pull out. You’re so entranced by how he looks that you almost forget why you’d turned around in the first place, and it’s his low, drawn-out moan that snaps you back into focus.

Getting back on your knees, you tug his hand away; it falls back to his side as you replace it with your own hand, stroking his length at a quicker pace. You can see him threatening to tilt backwards, and you call his attention before it can tip all the way.

“Mark,” you breathe out. “Baby, look at me.”

He complies, slowly bending his head and squeezing his eyes shut for a second before opening them to gaze down at you. His pupils are blown out, and water caught on his lips drips down onto your hand and face.

“Tell me where you want to cum.”

“Shit,” he looks dazed; the fact that you’re squeezing him probably isn’t helping. “I — I don’t know.”

“Do you want to cum in my mouth?”

“Oh my god.” He squeezes his eyes shut again. “Fuck. Fuck yes, yes.”

“Look at me when you do,” you press. “I want you to see your cum all over my lips.”

He looks positively overwhelmed at this point, but he opens his eyes again, fixing his stare on your lips, which have parted to kiss his tip. Your tongue peeks out, pressing flat against the underside of his cock as you continue to stroke him, trying to coax him into climaxing.

He starts to rock his hips again, but instead of intensifying his thrusts, he suddenly tenses; his cock twitches against your hold, and you feel the heat of his cum spill onto your tongue and stain your lips. You can tell he really wants to keep his voice down, but he can’t control the long groan that leaves him. Mark’s expression is something straight out of the million fantasies you’ve had, with him unconsciously licking his lips at the same time you lick your own clean. He stands in slightly dumbfounded silence, not breaking eye contact as he watches you swallow.

He doesn’t even say anything as he helps you up, but he does gather you in his arms again. His embrace is tighter than before, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then finally your lips. His fingers glide down your back, resting naturally just above your ass.

“Holy shit,” he finally manages to cough out as he pulls away.

“For sure,” you agree, and you watch his lips curl up into a grin. “Never had a shower sex fantasy. Not sure why, but I guess I found out what I should have imagined.”

“These fantasies of yours — do you have, like, a list, or—?”

“Only up in here,” you point to your temple, and he pulls out a disappointed expression. “What does it matter?”

“Well, what kind of checklist am I supposed to make now?”

“You want a sex checklist? Can’t it just be spontaneous like this?”

“I’ll have to work on it.” He reaches behind you, taking the soap from the holder and pressing the flat of it against your back before rubbing it in gentle, circular motions. “It would be nice to have a guide, though, so I’m not repeating myself, or whatever. For example, we can’t have shower sex again tomorrow. That would just be lazy planning.”

“You don’t need a guide,” you say dismissively. “But I’m kind of into the fact that you already think we’re going to fuck again tomorrow.”

“Are we not?”

“We are. That’s why I’m into it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you come out of the boys’ locker room, Donghyuck is standing by the door, arms folded across his chest. He’s visibly miffed and bursts into an enraged whisper when you step out, followed by Mark.

“You guys were in there for an hour! The janitor came and tried to lock the door. Thank god he said there was a ghost inside and he went to the chapel to get the priest. What took you so long?”

“There was only one shower,” Mark says simply. “The girls’ locker room didn’t have any hot water.”

“You take like ten minutes showering,” Donghyuck accuses him before turning to you. “And you hate long showers because they make your fingers wrinkly. Two showers back to back don’t equal an hour in there.”

“We didn’t take back to back showers,” you reply, equally monotone.

The three of you stand in silence, with Mark only moving to close the door behind him. Donghyuck points a slim finger at him, then at you, then at the door. Finally, it makes its way back to you, and his jaw drops a little as the pieces fall into place.

“You’re the ghost?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one making noise in there.”

“I wasn’t that loud,” Mark defends himself, hugging his jacket closer to his chest. Donghyuck shakes his closed umbrella, the droplets flying around.

“You guys made me stand out here and try to talk the janitor into getting a different mop while you had locker room sex?”

“Technically, it was shower sex. Locker room sex sounds too public,” you correct him, and he makes a disbelieving noise.

“Weren’t you the one pressuring me into admitting I had feelings for her?” Mark frowns, and Donghyuck freezes, his mouth still open from the words he had been about to say. Your eyes widen, and it’s your turn to point an accusing finger at him.

“You told Mark what?”

“He said I needed to confess or some other guy on the team would beat me to it.” Mark inhales sharply at his following realization. “There isn’t another guy on the team, is there?”

“Technically, we don’t know who has feelings for her on the team, so I might not have been lying so much as guessing with only little information,” Donghyuck sounds decidedly less hostile now. Mark rolls his eyes.

“You told me to just get laid!” You recall, and Donghyuck flinches.

“I didn’t mean right now in the damn showers while I waited for you out here for eons. I was thinking, like, one of you would confess, and then you’d go on a date later in the week, and if things go well then you’d kick me out of the room so you could bone, or something. It’s not my fault you guys made it sound like a scene from the exorcist in there.”

“We didn’t— okay, you know what?” You snatch his umbrella, and he lets it go without much resistance. “Let’s just go back. Come on, Mark.”

You open the umbrella, the remnants of the rain flying outwards as you do. Mark takes the handle from you, and you both march away, leaving Donghyuck behind in front of the boys’ locker room.

You’re halfway across the field when Mark speaks up in a low voice.

“We can’t leave him there.”

“I know. I’m just trying to spook him.”

You both stop, turning to face Donghyuck, who’s still by the locker rooms. He’s clearly watching you, though, because the moment he sees you looking at him, he makes a run for it, his long legs carrying him across the grass at top speed. He’s huffing when he arrives, and he throws his arms around the both of you so he can minimize the space he takes up under the umbrella.

When you reach the parking lot, Donghyuck speaks up.

“So, was it just one round in there, or what?”

#mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #mark x you #mark x reader #mark scenarios #mark scenario #mark imagines #mark imagine #mark drabble #mark drabbles #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct drabble #nct drabbles

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thesoftestirises · 3 years ago

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swim

♡ pairing : aemond x reader ♡ rating : 18+. this is straight up smut lol. minors dni. you will be blocked. ♡ word count : 1.8k ♡ warnings : light degradation, humiliation, fingering, dirty talk ♡ summary : You are supposed to be a pure maiden devoted to only the gods. But instead, you allow the forbidden pull of carnal desire to drive you into Prince Aemond Targaryen’s arms. ♡ a/n : unhinged, unprotected, and unbeta’d. if you see a mistake, no you didn’t. (please dm me so i can fix it thank you 💕) as usual, the assumption is that all my characters are consenting adults.

To the outside world, you were a paragon of virtue.

A pious, studious daughter of nobility, destined to one day be a lady of faith. A wife of the gods, as your parents often said.

That could not be further from the truth, you thought to yourself as Prince Aemond Targaryen pinned your back to the wall behind you and pressed his lips to yours hungrily. You made a soft noise of surprise, but quickly melted into the press you had grown familiar with over the last few days. You brought your hands to his broad shoulders and welcomed him in further, inhaling his intoxicating, unique scent of fire and parchment.

“This dress has been nothing but a distraction to me all night,” Aemond whispered against your mouth, his voice falling into an almost hushed moan as his hands moved to the fabric over your hips.

“This dress, your highness? I look ridiculous. I’m afraid it would be better suited for hauling potatoes,” you said, pointedly turning your gaze to the frilly, puffed sleeves. “If that.”

Aemond chuckled into your kiss, his lips curving upwards in that charming way you could never resist.

“You look beautiful in everything. Besides, I think it makes you look innocent,” he replied, stealing another kiss before putting a few inches of space between the two of you. “Even though we both know you’re anything but.”

“Under your corruptive influence,” you teased. “I was as pure as freshly fallen snow before I met you.”

“Oh, is that right?” Aemond said, arching one perfect eyebrow at you as he tilted his head. “I could have sworn it was you who threw yourself at me a mere week after our first meeting.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head in denial. “I don’t recall that ever happening, your highness. You must be mistaken.”

“Is that right?”

“I do believe so.”

“So it was not you who I kissed in the garden veranda but a fortnight ago?” Aemond asked, winding his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “How strange. You look exactly like her.”

“How strange indeed, but I would never engage in such improper acts. Certainly not with such a powerful, handsome prince,” you said, gently brushing Aemond’s soft blonde locks away from his face. You skimmed your thumb over the soft, worn leather of his eyepatch and sighed. “You don’t have to wear this around me, you know.”

Aemond’s smile dimmed, his gaze shifting away from you. “It’s not a pretty sight, my lady. I keep it covered for a reason.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Sometimes. I see my scars as the price I paid to become the man I am today.” he replied, his uncovered pale blue eye focused on you. “But the way that others recoil, or worse, look on with pity? That bothers me far more. I couldn’t bear it if you pitied me.”

“I could never,” you said, your voice firm. “I would never pity you. You are strong, honorable, and intelligent. Most men wouldn’t even measure to half of you. What is there to pity?”

The corners of Aemond’s mouth lifted in a small, but genuine smile. “You flatter me, my lady.”

“I speak only the truth.”

“I’ll remove it for you one day. But there was something else I was hoping to try with you tonight.”

“What is it?”

“In those dirty novels you always have your nose buried in,” Aemond whispered, his heated gaze locking with yours. “Have you read of fingering?”

You swallowed. “Yes. But I- I haven’t-“

“Shh, I know, love,” Aemond said, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. “I just want to touch you. Make you feel good. Do you want that as well?”

“Yes, but I’ve never done anything but kiss you, my prince. This is…”

“Lewd?”

You bit your lower lip and nodded.

Aemond laughed and pressed a soft kiss to your nose. “You were so bold when you first approached me. Now I offer to go further, and you get bashful?”

You pouted and crossed your arms. “It’s not like that.”

“Then? What is it like, sweet girl? Are you afraid of pleasure?”

You tried to fight off the heat rising to your cheeks and dropped your gaze to your shoes. “What if it hurts?”

Aemond took your chin into his rough, calloused fingertips, his touch paradoxically gentle in comparison to the state of his hands. He looked at you, his gaze earnest. “I would never hurt you.”

“Okay,” you agreed.

“Yes? You’ll let me stretch you out?”

“Fuck,” you groaned. “Yes.”

“Come.”

You allowed Aemond to lead you to his bed, tumbling in with him following after you. He settled between your thighs, pulling you into a open mouthed kiss. He lightly traced his tongue over the roof of your mouth and brushed his lips over yours until you were shuddering. His hands pushed your dress up until it was gathered at your hips. You broke the kiss to breathe, running your hand down his chest and playing with the gold buckles on his clothing.

“You are so devastatingly perfect, my prince,” you sighed, the words slipping off your tongue without you even thinking about them.

“I feel the same way about you,” he replied, no hint of humor in his tone.

Your breath caught in your throat and he kissed you again. Maybe you were just being delusional, but you could have sworn you felt a different type of passion in his movements. Your eyes closed and you wrapped your arms around his neck as one of his hands traced little patterns into the sensitive skin of your thighs. His fingers trailed up higher and higher until he was touching you through your inner layers of clothing.

“Are you nervous?” He murmured.

“A bit,” you admitted.

“I can stop,” he said. “I do not wish to pressure you into something you will regret.”

“Don’t you dare. Finish the job, Aemond.”

He chuckled and nodded, moving in to lick and bite at your neck. “You’re so wet, angel. You’ve practically soaked through your knickers and I haven’t even done anything. Do you like me that much?”

You whined and spread your legs further, inviting Aemond in. He smirked and finally pushed your undergarments to the side, not bothering to take them off before he used a cold finger to stroke between your folds.

“Fuck, Aemond,” you cried as your hands twisted into his bedsheets. “Your hands are freezing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, my sweet girl. I’m sure your little fuckhole will warm them up. Invite me in, darling. Beg for me to touch you.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Mm, I need you to be a little more specific. I think you know the kinds of things I like to hear from that pretty mouth.”

You sucked in a breath, dizzy from the atmosphere he created with just a few words. “Please, Aemond. Please put your fingers in my hole and stretch me out. I need you to wreck me. I want to feel you inside me.”

“You’re just my sweet, obedient whore, aren’t you? You’re mine. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, I belong to you.”

“Your lips are mine,” he said, pressing a kiss to your open mouth. “Your tits are mine,” he said, roughly squeezing a breast. “And your pussy is mine. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”

“I’m yours,” you cried, a tear sliding down your face. Aemond looked alarmed at first before he realized you were just overwhelmed. He licked your tears away and kissed your cheek as you gasped in surprise.

“Don’t forget it,” he said, pressing two fingers into your mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me, won’t you?”

You obediently sucked and moaned around his digits, your eyelids closing.

“You’d be a natural at sucking cock, wouldn’t you?” He said, pulling his fingers out and smirking before finally sinking a finger into your entrance. The stretch wasn’t too bad, probably because Aemond had done a wonderful job getting you worked up enough to want it. It was a new sensation to have someone inside you like that. You could feel him curiously exploring your inner walls, searching for the places that made you gasp. He pulled the finger out to his first knuckle before slowly burying back inside. “You’re so tight, sweet girl.”

He shifted to kneel between your legs, using his other hand to gently stroke your clit. You quickly fell apart into a moaning mess as he toyed with the sensitive bead while pressing against your inner walls. Aemond kept going, pressing a second finger in and pausing when you hissed in discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just give me a second. It’s a lot,” you admitted.

“Do you want to take a third finger or is two okay?”

“Two is good. We’ll have to work up to three next time.”

He nodded, focusing on stroking your clit and pushing his fingers deeper into you. You cried out when he pressed against a particularly sensitive part of your walls. He grinned at the reaction and repeated the movement, purposely rubbing his fingertips against the area. He had to kiss you to shut you up, giggling against your lips.

“You really like being touched here, don’t you? You know what this is?”

“I’m guessing you’ll tell me,” you said breathlessly. He immediately punished you for your sass by pulling his fingers out of you and smacking your clit. You gasped and grabbed his shoulders, toes curling.

“Don’t backtalk me,” he said, a dark smile on his face. “Got it?”

You quickly nodded, sighing as he pushed his fingers back inside you.

“Your moans are like music. Oh, I’d die to spend the rest of my life between your thighs. Look at you, you make such a pretty picture like this. Clothes just pushed out of the way like a ravished maiden in a dirty portrait. You’re such a slut.”

“Your slut,” you corrected, smiling.

You found it harder and harder to keep your eyes open as he kept pushing inside you. All you could do was spread your legs further and gasp for air.

“Are you going to come, sweet girl?” Aemond teased. “Hm? Gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Yes,” you croaked, your voice just as weak as the rest of you.

“Do it, angel. I want to see you fall apart.”

You felt an intense wave of pleasure crash over you, much stronger than any self inflicted orgasm you’d given yourself. Aemond held you through it, nuzzling into your hair with his nose as you came down from your peak. When you had fully returned to your senses, you turned your head and saw him grinning at you like a madman.

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You made a mess.”

“I did not,” you scoffed.

“Oh, but you did,” he smirked, showing you his glistening hands. “I suppose you’ll have to make it up to me.”

—

#prince aemond #prince aemond x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagines

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alwaysonthemend · 2 years ago

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The Nightcap | JMK

Author’s Note: This is the first fic I’ve written since my BBC Sherlock era so please bear with me. I’m a little nervous posting my writing after so much time but I also really want to get back into it because it’s so much fun! This is unbeta’d so all mistakes are my own.

Summary: After leaving a party early, you and Josh head back to your place for a nightcap and a movie. Little do either of you know, things are about to heat up between the two of you.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, oral (f. receiving) hand jobs, p. in v. sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks!), swearing, minor sub Josh. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3499

Preview:

He sat up from between your legs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – no doubt the most obscenely attractive thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Holy fuck.” you breathed out, and Josh chuckled smugly at your blissed-out expression.

“Everyone always talks about a guitarist’s fingers…” He said with a wicked grin, “But no one ever talks about a vocalist’s tongue.”

“Cocky bastard.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

These parties always made you feel nervous. No matter how many of them you went to, you always felt slightly out of place and awkward. You barely know anyone here. You know the boys of course, having practically grown up alongside them, but it still felt too awkward to ask one of them to stay with you the whole time. You hadn’t even wanted to show up tonight, but Josh had seemed so disappointed when you said you might sit it out and so you’d relented and told him you’d at least come for a little while. Parties were his favorite after all.

The boys were abuzz with energy as you all made your way to the club downtown. They’d booked the whole place out and had invited practically all of their friends who lived nearby, along with a bunch of other people whom you had no idea who they even were. You’d made your rounds as you’d first arrived, saying hello to the few people you did know before making your way over to the bar to have a drink.

From your place at the bar, you could see just about everyone – it was far more packed than you had been expecting and definitely far louder than you were in the mood for. At this point, you were debating with yourself whether or not you should just get an Uber back to your house and call it a night. The day had been long, and this party wasn’t helping the headache mounting behind your eyes.

You rose from your seat, pulling out your phone to call an Uber when Josh slid up next to you, drink in hand.

“Hey y/n! What’s up?” His eyes were sparkling in the dim lighting of the club and his cheeks were pink from the excitement. He looked divine.

“Hey, Josh.” You smiled lightly, “I was just about to call an Uber actually. I’m a little tired and I just want to go to bed.”

His face fell slightly before his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you calling an Uber? Your place isn’t far, and I could drive you. An Uber would just be a waste of money.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer but I don’t mind paying for an Uber.” You gestured to the party going on around you. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to take you away from all this. You love parties!”

He gave you a toothy grin. He was wearing a low-cut V-neck shirt, and you could see the sweat on his chest glisten under the blue light of the club. He looked ethereal.

“Well yeah, I do. But I also would love to drive you back to your house. I wouldn’t mind. I promise.” He placed his glass on the bar and looked at you through his lashes. He looked sincere and you felt yourself caving.

“Fine,” you conceded, “So long as you promise that you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, mama. Come on!” You felt yourself blush at the nickname as you followed him out of the club and into the night air outside. The cold wind was a stark contrast to the stuffiness of the club, and you took a moment to breathe and feel the coolness on your cheeks. You and Josh made your way to his car, and he opened your door for you before getting in himself.

“Thank you again, Josh. You really didn’t have to take me home.” You said after a few moments of relaxed silence. Josh glanced at you for a moment, a soft look on his face, before turning his eyes back to the road.

“It’s really no problem, y/n. I don’t mind.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the soft sounds of Fleet Foxes floating out from the car’s speakers. This was why you liked Josh. As much as he always seemed to like to talk, he didn’t ever make you feel like you had to entertain or keep up a conversation for things to not be awkward. He was perfectly content to just sit in silence and enjoy another person’s company. You felt lucky that you got to see this side of him.

“I don’t know how you do it, Josh – go to all these parties all the time. I don’t understand how you find the energy to do it and never get tired.” You laughed, watching the lights of the city blur past your window. He chuckled.

“I do get tired of it sometimes, I’m just a little better at hiding it.” He glanced at you again before continuing in a softer voice. “I didn’t really want to go tonight, actually. I was only going to go if you agreed to go, too.”

You looked at him, startled.

“Why? I’m not exactly the most fun person to be around at parties.”

“You’re very fun to be around, y/n. I love getting to spend extra time with you. I miss you when we’re on tour.” His honesty made your cheeks warm with embarrassment and you were having a hard time coming up with something to say in response.

“Well,” you said after a moment, “I love getting to spend time with you, too. I only showed up tonight because you asked.”

“I’m honored.” He laughed, his own cheeks tinged a little pink.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence, and soon Josh was pulling into your driveway.

“M’lady.” He said with a dramatic flourish as he opened the car door for you again.

You giggled, taking the hand that he offered you as you stepped out of the car.

“Why thank you, my good sir.” You laughed. “Do you want to come in for a nightcap? I’ve got a bottle of wine calling my name right now if you’d like to join.”

He gave you a dazzling smile.

“That sounds amazing. Lead the way!”

The two of you made your way inside and Josh hooked his keys on the little hook on the wall before plopping down onto your sofa. You entered the kitchen, pulled two wine glasses from your cabinet, and placed them on the table. You grabbed the bottle of wine from your pantry, brought it over, and poured yourself and Josh a generous amount. He chuckled as he watched you fill the glasses. You put the bottle away before bringing them over to the sofa where Josh was sitting.

“Thanks for inviting me in, y/n. I really didn’t want to go back there. Far too loud for tonight.” He took a sip from his glass as you took a seat next to him.

“Consider it repayment for driving me home.” You took a sip from your own glass, reveling in the bitter taste on your tongue.

“Or maybe you’re just trying to spend more time with me.” He said with a sly grin.

“Hmm. Maybe. But you did accept my invitation so maybe you just wanted to spend extra time with me.”

He laughed softly. “Maybe so, y/n. Maybe so.”

Your heart rate picked up as he said the words and you brought your glass to your lips and took a large gulp to try and soothe the nerves away. Being alone with him like this, especially in your own house, was making your brain conjure up dangerous thoughts – thoughts that you usually tried to keep buried.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” You asked in a desperate attempt to break the tension. Josh probably knew exactly what you were doing but went along with it.

“Sure! Did you have a certain one in mind?”

“You’re the film guy. You choose.”

He chuckled, placing his drink on the coffee table, and got up to turn off the lamp. He walked back, grabbing the remote as he sat back down. You placed your own drink down next to his and you settled back into the couch, pulling a blanket off the back and covering your lap and Josh’s as he chose one. You weren’t sure what he chose, but your mind became otherwise occupied as he leaned back, and his thigh and shoulder pressed into yours. The heat from him spread through you like the wine had, leaving you warm and relaxed. His scent flooding your nose coupled with the alcohol left you feeling far more at ease than you had been before.

The movie started and you really did try to pay attention – but all your mind could focus on was the feeling of him pressed against you. You stole occasional glances at him, trying to memorize how the soft glow from the TV accentuated his jawline and how his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks. At some point, he brought his hand to rest on your knee, absent-mindedly tracing patterns there with his fingertips.

You did your best to keep your eyes focused on the screen and eventually, you found yourself being drawn into the story. At least, you had been for a little while until you felt Josh’s fingertips slowly ghost their way up higher on the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You glanced at Josh, but his eyes were still glued to the screen. He probably hadn’t even realized that he’d done it.

You turned your attention back to the movie, but it wasn’t long before Josh’s touch went even higher – high enough that it couldn’t have been an accident.

“Josh?” You whispered, scared to break the silence; scared to acknowledge what was happening.

He turned to look at you, eyes dark and glistening in the light of the TV.

“Y/n,” he whispered, swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. Your eyes tracked the movement before sweeping back up to his eyes. “Please tell me I’m not reading into this wrong. Tell me you want this too.” He looked so nervous – a look you’d never really seen on him before. He was always so confident, so sure of himself; seeing him look at you that way made you ache to reach out and soothe him. This was like a damn dream come true. You’d dreamed about being with him like this. You’d just never thought he would ever be interested in someone like you. There were thousands upon thousands of women who would kill someone to be where you were now, and Josh could have any one of them if he wanted. But somehow it was you that he wanted. It was you that got to see him like this – so vulnerable, his desire reflected clearly in his eyes.

You must have taken too long to answer though, as he pulled his hand quickly from your thigh and stood awkwardly from the sofa.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I never should have assumed that-”

You grabbed his wrist quickly, wrapping your fingers around him tightly.

“Relax, Josh. You just surprised me, that’s all.”

He stared at you for a moment, his cheeks a bright red that you could see even in the dim light.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. That was so rude of me. I can leave. I won't ever bring this up again.” He made to pull his wrist from your hand, but you tighten your grip on him.

“Josh,” you whispered, “I want this. I want you.”

He stared at you, turning your words over in his mind. He looked divine, bathed in the light from the screen, his chest heaving with excitement.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” You say as you pull him back down onto the sofa. You scoot backwards, bringing your back flush to the armrest and spread your legs. “Come here, Josh. I want this.”

He crawls his way over to you, sitting on his knees between your thighs. His eyes are even darker than before, and the redness of his cheeks was now painted down his chest as well. You stare at him, waiting. Your heart is pounding, heat flooding between your legs as you stare at him.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, as he brings his palms to your thighs and leans over you, your chests flush against each other. You ghost your lips over his, feeling their softness.

“Please do.”

He brings his lips to yours in a searing kiss, immediately plunging his tongue between your lips in a greedy display of lust. You whine quietly as he licks his way into your mouth, and you bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks between them. He presses his hips to yours and you can feel his cock straining through the fabric of his pants, and you can feel your own wetness soaking through your panties. You don’t remember the last time you were this turned on. You feel dizzy – drunk on lust and desire for the man on top of you.

His lips leave yours and you chase them, but he brings them to your neck instead, pressing searing hot kisses down your throat. He pulls away briefly to pull your shirt over your head before returning his mouth to the hollow of your throat. Your hands move upwards, ghosting over the shaved sides of his head before tangling in his unruly curls. You give them a tug and he groans, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Do you like that, Josh? Like it when I pull your hair?” You ask breathlessly, tugging again at his hair.

He moans again and you feel his cock twitch as he ruts himself against your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, mama…” he breathes, tongue licking over the valley between your breasts as he brings his right hand to the waistband of your pants. He brings his mouth away from you as he pulls them off, groaning at the sight of your lace thong. You mentally high-five yourself for choosing to put them on that morning.

“Can I taste you, y/n?” He looks up at you from underneath his lashes and you swear you’ve never seen something more sinful. His lips are red and swollen and his chest glistens with sweat. He looks absolutely ravished already.

“Whatever you want, Joshy.”

He gives you a wicked grin before lifting your hips to slide your panties down your thighs. He brings them to his nose and inhales, moaning at the scent before tossing them somewhere in the room. That action alone makes your pussy ache with need for him, and you can feel yourself practically vibrating with excitement and desire.

He lowers his head between your thighs and swipes his tongue through your folds, lapping at the wetness collected there. You breathe out a stuttered breath and throw your head back, eyes closed tight. He repeats the action, this time swirling the tip of his tongue around your swollen clit.

“Oh God!” you whine, completely lost in the sensations of his tongue.

He chuckles, and the vibration leaves you feeling completely drunk on arousal. He continues his ministrations, and it isn't long before you feel that familiar coil tightening in your belly. He brings one hand to cup your chin, thrusting his middle and pointer fingers into your mouth. You suck on them obediently before he pulls them out and sinks them into you, never once stopping with his talented tongue. He curls his fingers inside you, brushing against the spot that few men had ever been able to find as he suckled on your clit and your orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. Your vision whited out as your entire body shook and you let out a wail of Josh’s name.

He sat up from between your legs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – no doubt the most obscenely attractive thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Holy fuck.” you breathed out, and Josh chuckled smugly at your blissed-out expression.

“Everyone always talks about a guitarist’s fingers…” He said with a wicked grin. “But no one ever talks about a vocalist’s tongue.”

“Cocky bastard.” You laugh, sitting up and reaching for his pants. You pull them off him, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He tears his own shirt off his head and you take a moment to just look at him. You can see his cock still straining through his boxers and his chest is red and heaving. His chin is covered in your wetness.

“You look divine.” You say, pushing him back into a sitting position.

“Speak for yourself, darling.” He slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders and reaches behind you to unclip it with one hand. He uses his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re completely naked now, and Josh is staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You throw one leg over him, straddling his waist and grinding your pussy down on his cock. His hardness coupled with the roughness of the fabric of his boxers gives you the most delicious friction. He lets out a whine that’s like music to your ears.

“I don’t have any condoms…” He mutters breathlessly, hands gripping your hips so hard they’ll probably leave bruises.

“I’m clean. And I’m on birth control.” You say as you lean down to kiss him again. He moans as you bite his lower lip.

“You sure?” He says, breaking the kiss to look up at you through hooded eyes.

“Yes. Wanna feel you all the way.” You say as you pull his boxers down. He kicks them off and you take a moment to admire him. His head is an angry red and pearly droplets of precum leak from it. You scoot down lower on his thighs and spit into your hand before wrapping your fingers around his cock. He whines again and lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch. You pump up and down a few times, increasing your speed as you go. He lets out a breathy moan that sends shocks of arousal down into your pussy. You want nothing more than to sink down on him already, but you continue to jack him off with your hand. You want to see how far you can push him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop.” He whines, lifting his head to stare at you. You chuckle and speed up your hand while you start to massage his balls with the other.

“Mama…” he moans again, and you can feel his balls tighten. He’s about to cum so you squeeze your hand tightly around the base of his dick. He yelps and groans, hips pushing up to try and chase his release.

“Not yet, baby. Want you to come inside me.” You let go of his cock and bring your own hand to your clit, flicking it a few times before sinking down on him.

You both moan loudly as you bottom out and you feel like you could cum from the feeling of him stretching you alone. You sit still for a moment, adjusting to his size before you slowly start to rock your hips. He moans and slides his hands down to grip your ass, squeezing as you bounce up and down on him.

“Fuck, y/n, you feel so good. So tight.”

“You’re doing so good, Josh. Such a good boy for me.” You moan, picking up your pace. He groans and bucks his hips at the nickname.

“You like when I call you a good boy?”

“So much, mama. Wanna be your good boy.” He ruts his hips into yours, meeting you in the middle as you ride him. You can feel yourself right on the edge, but you want to see him cum first.

“You are my good boy, Josh. You’re so fucking perfect. So needy. So good for me.” And with one final thrust into you, you feel him explode in you, painting your walls with his release.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Holy shit.” He whines, and the sound of his needy moans coupled with the pleasure painted over his face brings you to your own release as well. The coil in your belly snaps for a second time and you moan his name as you ride out your orgasm.

You rise off him, collapsing onto the sofa next to him.

“Holy shit.” He laughs breathlessly. “You are something else, mama.”

You laugh, turning over to kiss him softly.

“So are you, baby. You were so good for me.” He smiles lazily at you, eyes now shining with something more than just lust.

“I’m glad you invited me in.”

You laughed loudly.

“Me too.’’ You could feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to cloud your mind and you rose slowly from the couch. Josh looked up at you, his messy curls falling onto his forehead. You extended your hand toward him

“Stay with me tonight?”

He smiled softly at you and took your hand.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

#josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka #josh gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf #smut #dee's writing

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nurse-buckley · 3 years ago

Text

Sicktember - Day Four

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Buddie x Reader (platonic) Word Count: 1,293 words Prompt: @sicktember Alt. Prompt 5 “Can You Be Brave For Me?” Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know! Authors Note: CEO of getting these fics out 25 minutes before midnight! Once again, unbeta’d so I apologise for any mistakes! Requested by the amazing @firemedicdiaz I hope this helps cheer you up lovely <3

You let out a low groan as you feel someone shaking your shoulders in an attempt to rouse you, “Hey. Y/N? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me sweetheart.” You can vaguely hear Eddie’s voice cutting through the haze, but your eyes are just too heavy.

Eddie moves his fingers to the side of your neck, feeling for your pulse. He lets out a sigh of relief to feel the gentle thrumming beneath his finger tips, even if it is a little fast for his liking. He gently shakes your shoulders once more, releasing another sigh of relief as your eyes begin to flutter open.

“Ed…?” you slurred, as consciousness returns to you. “What? Why am I on the floor?” Your mind still fuzzy, your head pounding, probably from the impact of your head hitting the floor considering the last thing you remember was helping Eddie in the kitchen before the world began to spin.

Eddie can sense your rising anxiety as you come to your senses a little more and attempt to sit up, easing you back down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Easy cariña, you fainted. Just lay back for me, you’re alright. We’ve got you,” he reassures.

We? Right…you were at Buck’s. You and Eddie had gone there after work to hang out.

You startle as you hear a noise from your side, watching as Buck comes into view and sets the first aid kit you knew he kept in his closet beside you. The younger man kneels beside you, opposite Eddie, unzipping the kit to pull out a piece of gauze before passing the kit over to Eddie.

Buck moves into your line of sight, taking your focus away from Eddie as he begins to pull out various pieces of equipment, sensing your anxiety growing more. “I’m just going to hold this to the side of your head, alright? You bumped your head pretty hard when you hit the floor.” He apologies as the contact causes you to flinch away, but he holds your head steady with his other hand on the other side of your face.

You see Eddie placing a stethoscope around his neck, and feel your breathing start to come a little quicker, suddenly feeling self-conscious of all the attention on you.

“You know, I’m actually feeling a lot better. It’s okay. I’m just really tired or it’s probably just low blood sugar. I’m fine…really. I don’t need the hospital or anything, really,” you stutter, trying to sit up once more.

“Hey,” Eddie speaks up from your other side, taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly, “No one said anything about the hospital, I can’t rule it out just yet, but I just need to check you over, that’s non-negotiable. Can you be brave for me? Just for a little while.”

You nod defeatedly, allowing Buck to ease you back down this time. A stray tear rolls down your cheek at the thought of there being something wrong with you, but you know you’re in safe hands with the pair of them at your side.

“That’s it. Just lay back, we’ve got you. You’re safe,” Buck reassures, wiping away the stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Did you have any symptoms before you passed out? Any dizziness, blurred vision, palpitations?”

You give a worried look to Buck, but an encouraging nod from him has you nodding your head, “i-is that bad?”

“Try not to worry, it could be nothing,” Buck tries to reassure you.

“B-but it could be something. I’ve never passed out before,” your panic begins to rise once more, the thought of something being wrong with you overwhelming you.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me sweetheart,” Eddie says this time, “We need you calm okay, just let me worry about everything else.”

You mimic Eddie as he takes a slow, deep breath, feeling a little calmer. “Good, now, keep taking deep breaths with Buck here, and let me check you over. I’ll explain everything before I do it and if it gets too much we’ll take a break.”

Buck gently moves back into your line of vision, taking slow deep breaths for you to follow.

“I’m just going to check your pulse,” Eddie announces, gently placing his fingers around your wrist and glancing at his watch. You focus on your breath, following Buck and trying not to focus on the feeling of your pulse tapping away against Eddie’s touch.

He sets your arm down by your side, before picking up the blood pressure cuff from the kit next. “Is it alright if I just slip this on here?” You nod your consent, trying not to focus on the feeling of the cool fabric as Eddie wraps it tightly around your upper arm. You watch as he puts on the stethoscope and places it at the crook of your elbow, “Just a little squeeze here.” He inflates the cuff, just enough to be uncomfortable before releasing it, quickly and efficiently taking the reading.

“Your vitals are a little concerning,” Eddie quickly continues, before you work yourself up again, “I’m just going to check one more thing, is it alright if I check your blood sugar?”

The thought of the needle pricking your finger is enough to make bile rise at the back of your throat, but you knew Eddie wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t certain.

As if he were able to read your mind, Eddie speaks up once more, “I’ll be as gentle as I can and it’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod once more, offering your middle finger to Eddie and holding out your free hand to Buck to hold as Eddie gets the necessary equipment together. “Do you want me to count down?” Eddie asks as he presses the tip of the lancet against your chosen finger.

“Count down please,” you ask as you look away and focus on Buck, squeezing his hand tighter.

“One…two…three.”

Before you have a chance to even think, you feel the needle quickly pinch your skin before Eddie squeezes your finger and takes the reading. Buck is quick, grabbing another piece of gauze from the packet he’d opened earlier and wraps it around the tip of your finger.

The machine beeps and Eddie lets out a small, “hmm” drawing both of your attention back to him. He turns the monitor around, showing you and Buck the reading. “I think we’ve found our culprit.”

“Low blood sugar?” you ask.

“Seems to be the issue, and it fits your other symptoms,” Eddie confirms.

“Am I going to be okay?” you ask, worried at the thought of a trip to the hospital and more needles.

“I think we can manage it here, we’ll settle you on the couch and get you some juice and a snack. Does that sound okay?”

You sit up with the help of Buck and Eddie either side of you, leaning against them as you sway a little. They help you to the couch, settling you down with a glass of juice.

“We’ll let you finish that and then we’ll just check your blood sugar once more, make sure everything's coming back to normal but I think you’re going to be just fine,” Eddie reassures as he takes the seat next to you.

Buck takes a seat at your other side, nestling you safely between the pair of them, “you know, if you wanted to pick the take out and movie tonight, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

The three of you fall into a fit of laughter, the anxiety from earlier long forgotten as you settle in for the evening with the two people you felt safest with.

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minisugakoobies · 3 years ago

Text

Christmas Confession | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, holiday, friends to lovers, Coworkers!AU

Rating: M(18+)

Warnings: drinking, swearing, kissing, references to oral (f receiving) and vaginal sex

Word Count: 2.9K

Disclaimers: NSFW, I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: You're Namjoon's Secret Santa and you've got the perfect gift.

A/N: This was written for the BCC x FI 12 Days of BTS Holiday Event! My advent calendar prompts were "A best friend rigging Secret Santa because they know you have a crush on [member of choice]" and "Did we really get each other the same gift?" Just another soft holiday fic for you!

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

It’s starting to snow. You stare out the window of the taxi, watching the swirling flakes shimmer in the streetlights as you trek through the city. Tonight, your friends are gathering for a holiday party at one of your favorite bars. The evening ahead promises nothing but joy and merriment, but you feel nervous, staring at the silver-and-gold wrapped box lying on the seat next to you.

Maybe this is a mistake. But it’s too late now.

The car slows, and you sit up, craning your neck to see around the driver. Flashing lights ahead.

“Looks like we might be stuck for a while,” the driver says, and you just nod. That’s fine. A few more minutes before you get to the bar sounds lovely right now. Maybe this will give you a chance to clear your head and settle your nerves.

BZZT BZZT

Your clutch rattles as your phone alerts you to a text. It’s Yoongi, of course.

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:15): Are you on your way or did you chicken out?

You make a face at the screen. The phone buzzes again.

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:16): Don’t make that face at me

(8:16): How did you know?

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:16): You always make faces when I call you out

(8:17): Ass. I’m on my way, just caught behind an accident or something

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:17): Ok

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:17): Just a warning for when you get here - there’s mistletoe by the dartboard

Grumpy Cat 😾 (8:18): Jimin’s already tipsy. Keeps trying to drag me over there. He’ll probably try to get you too

(8:18): Thanks for the heads up

A grin crosses your face as you imagine a cranky Yoongi fending off Jimin’s amorous advances. Then it’s quickly wiped away as you remember that Yoongi’s the reason you’re so anxious tonight. After all, he’s the one who rigged the gift exchange.

Yoongi had been completely unrepentant when you’d confronted him.

“Yoongi,” you hissed after the names were drawn, standing in his kitchen while the rest of your friends milled about his apartment. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” Yoongi had the best poker face of anyone you’d ever met, but after a decade of friendship, you didn’t need to look at him to know he was hiding something. Like a vibration in the air, you could feel it - the sensation of someone meddling in your affairs.

You’d held out your hand, revealing the scrap of paper with Namjoon’s name scribbled on it. “You rigged the Secret Santa drawing! How else did I end up with Joon?”

Yoongi just blinked slowly. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because you love to make my life difficult.”

“No, that’s not it. If someone were going to go through the trouble of such a thing, one would have to have a better reason.” He tapped his chin. “Oh, I remember now - I wanted my friend to stop being such a dumbass and tell her crush how she feels. I thought this would be the perfect opportunity.”

“So you did rig it!”

“Of course I did. Dumbass. Look - life is too fucking short for you to keep on hiding your feelings like this. Just suck it up and tell him already.”

You could’ve rolled through any of your usual protestations, but you knew Yoongi would just ignore them, so you simply glared at him instead.

“Now then. Why don’t you take whatever energy you were going to spend on being mad at me and use it to find the perfect gift for Namjoon. What says “I’ve been helplessly in love with you since the first moment I saw you”? Maybe a nice mug?”

Yoongi wasn’t totally exaggerating. You’ve been in love with your friend Namjoon since the day he walked into your office two years ago. All it took was one look at your new coworker - this tall, broad-shouldered dreamboat with dark eyes and dimples that flashed impishly as introduced himself - and you immediately fell in lust.

And then he turned out to be the smartest, sweetest goofball of a man, and that lust quickly flamed into full-blown love.

Namjoon had fallen in with your group of friends, and you spent so many nights hanging out at the bar or at someone’s apartment, talking and laughing until late in the night. Even though you were surrounded by others, you always sought him out, just him alone, gravitating towards him like you were the ocean and he the moon. Basking in his glow.

You thought you hid it well, but Yoongi knew. He always saw right through you.

As much as you want to be mad at Yoongi now for fixing the Secret Santa draw and sticking his nose into your business, you can’t. Not really. Not knowing that he wants you to be happy, ultimately.

The car rolls forward slowly. “Hopefully not much longer, miss,” the driver says.

“No worries,” you chirp, but it’s a lie. Your mind is full of nothing but. As you gaze again at the gift box next to you, you think back to another time when your fears got the best of you.

It started like any other Friday in August. The city, trapped in a sweltering heatwave, shimmered in a haze outside your office’s windows as one by one your coworkers rushed home to kickoff their weekends.

You and Namjoon, however, remained at your desks, trying desperately to finish a project that was already a week past its deadline. Normally, you would’ve declared it Monday’s problem, but it was a massive project, and you both feared that your jobs were on the line if you didn’t hand it in ASAP.

But the heat was too much, and the power went out. It was only a flicker, really, electricity returning a minute later, but it was long enough to take all your hard work and toss it out the window, all because you hadn’t hit “save” in time.

Your immediate reaction was to throw a mini-tantrum. Namjoon kept a cool head, suggesting a change of scenery. So you packed up your laptop and took the subway to Namjoon’s. Over a takeout meal in his living room, the two of you carefully pieced your project back together again, finally finishing the damn thing several hours later.

“Done!” you shouted, closing your laptop as Namjoon collapsed on his couch. “Finally fucking done.” You poked him. “Don't fall asleep on me now. We need to do something fun. Try and salvage the night.”

Namjoon hopped up and started to rummage in his kitchen cabinets, until he pulled out a bottle of whisky. “How about this?”

It was a bottle of Honsool. Single malt, 12-year edition. It had already been opened, but was still pretty full.

“I’ve been drinking it slowly. Only on special occasions.”

“And tonight counts?” You peered up at him with an eyebrow raised.

His dimples popped. “Absolutely.”

He poured two shots, handing you one before joining you on the couch. You stopped him as he raised the glass to his lips.

“Hold on, we should toast!” you insisted.

“Ah, of course.” He paused. “To us keeping our jobs!”

The liquor went down so smoothly.

You raised the second toast - “Cheers to beers and legs behind your ears!” - before tipping back the shot, giggling in delight at the way Namjoon accidentally inhaled his at your words.

Back and forth, the two of you traded increasingly silly toasts as you tossed back shot after shot. Eventually, an empty bottle rolled on the table as the two of you clutched each other, laughing at your dumb, drunken jokes.

Things began to blur, melt together after that. A hand on your thigh - was it yours or his? Where did his shoulder end and yours begin? A longing look, eyes staring at lips. Suddenly, you were on your back and he was lying on top of you, his hand slipping beneath your waistband as his mouth met yours. You pulled him closer, fingers digging into skin, gripping, marking. Claiming.

His lips tasted like caramel and honey, sweetened by the whisky. He softly whispered his devotion, worshipping you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue.

You fell into the soft sheets of his bed, and he sighed the word “baby,” as he sank into you, again and again and again. When your end came, as your hips rose to meet his, it didn't feel like falling apart, for once. This time, you felt whole, as overwhelming pleasure surged through you, and Namjoon’s voice joined yours as you cried out into the stillness of the darkened room.

In the morning, you woke to an empty bed. Before you could wonder where he went, Namjoon poked his head in the doorway.

“Hey. I was just coming to check on you,” he murmured softly, a small grin playing on his lips. “You were really out.”

“Yeah, I sleep hard after I drink an entire distillery,” you replied, rubbing your temples, which were already throbbing.

Namjoon laughed. “I’m making coffee. Want some?”

You nodded, and he disappeared. Left alone with your thoughts, you stared at the ceiling.

Maybe now was the time to tell him.

Last night was beyond anything you’d ever dreamt. And you’d had plenty of dreams involving this man. Many of them involved this very moment itself. How you would confess everything. How he would smile and embrace you, whispering that he felt the same.

But now that the moment was here, it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

Suddenly, there were a dozen Namjoons in your head. One smiled sadly at your confession, holding your hand and saying he just didn’t feel the same. One patted you kindly on the arm and said, maybe we should just be friends. One laughed. Just laughed at you. Another snorted, asking if you seriously thought he could ever love someone like you.

On and on, all those Namjoons reacted in ways more horrible, more heartbreaking than the last. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bear the thought of any of these Namjoons being the one about to walk through that door.

You couldn’t bear to lose the real one. Your friend.

Namjoon entered a moment later, two steaming mugs in hand. You took yours with a tiny “Thanks” and blew into it before taking a sip. Just a splash of milk and sugar. Just as you liked it.

“So, about last night,” Namjoon began, and you couldn’t let him finish. You needed to be the one to speak first.

“We got a little carried away,” you interjected, laughing nervously. “Sorry about that. I get kinda, um, rowdy when I’m really drunk.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Namjoon teased. “No, but - “

“I just hope this won’t ruin our friendship,” you blurted out, cutting him off again.

Namjoon’s mouth went slack for a moment as he looked at you. “Ruin our friendship?”

“Yeah. I really don’t want this to make things weird between us. You’re one of my best friends.” You spoke quickly, trying to get the words out as fast as you could, to let him know that he didn’t need to say anything. There was no need for him to let you down easy. You could do it yourself. “We should just… pretend last night didn’t happen. Right?”

His nod was slow, but your relief rushed over you immediately.

“Great! Um, how about I shower quick and then we go get some brunch?” You barely waited for an answer, too keyed up to slow down. In the shower, you took a moment to breathe deeply and let the water wash away all your worries. And your dreams, too. Better to let them go, rather than risk losing Namjoon.

When you returned, Namjoon was ready for brunch. The two of you walked out into the bright sunshine, chatting as if nothing unusual had happened the night before.

Neither of you ever mentioned that night again.

“Finally!” The driver’s voice wakes you from your stupor. Glancing out the window, you see that the congestion has cleared as the car begins to move again. “Should be there shortly, miss.”

“Thanks.”

Your ride pulls to a stop outside the bar a few minutes later. With a deep breath, you yank open the door before you can lose your nerve.

“Hey!” A chorus of voices shout your name as you enter. Grinning, you head for your friends, greeting them with hugs. True to Yoongi’s word, Jimin is indeed slightly drunk and does in fact tug you towards the mistletoe, but you give him a peck on one cheek and a pinch on the other before the insatiable flirt can attempt anything else.

The last person you greet is Namjoon. He hangs back a little from the crowd, holding a red box trimmed with a green bow. You still hug him like you do all your other friends, though maybe you linger a little longer in his arms. A small indulgence.

Yoongi brings you a drink. It helps you relax a little. Your friends are all so happy to see you, and that helps, too.

But once you’re settled in, someone announces that the gift exchange can begin. And just like that, your nerves flare up again, sending your pulse racing.

“Relax,” Yoongi mutters from next to you. He slips an arm over your shoulders. “I’m telling you, he’s going to love his gift.”

“You don’t even know what I got him,” you reply under your breath.

“Don’t need to. He’ll love it regardless, because it’s coming from you.”

“What makes you so sure? Has he said something to you?” You turn to examine your friend as he sips his pint.

“No, but he doesn’t have to. I just know.” You squint at him and he laughs. “Trust me.” He pats your shoulder before releasing you to unwrap his gift from his Secret Santa, his roommate Jin. “Oh. A mug. How nice.”

Your turn is next. A red box with a green bow is slid in front of you. You glance at Namjoon in surprise, then at Yoongi, who calmly sips his beer.

You undo the bow and peel back the wrapping paper. Inside the box, you find a bottle of Honsool. 12-year reserve. Single malt.

You start to laugh.

“Uh…” Namjoon says, face blanching as a murmur of confusion ripples through your friends. “What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you grab his gift and place it in front of him. “Your turn.”

He gives you a weird look, but tears into the wrapping paper. As he removes the lid from the box inside, he freezes.

After a minute, Jimin yells, “Well? What is it?”

Namjoon holds up a bottle of Honsool. “Did we really get each other the same gift?” His gaze meets yours, and you just smile.

There are still several gifts to be exchanged, so you try to focus on your friends. But you can feel his eyes on you, like he’s searching for something, and you know that the moment is here. So once the last gift has been opened, you approach him.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You lead him into a quiet corner, away from where your friends are now loudly (poorly) singing a Christmas carol, and take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“Namjoon, I - “

“I bought that Honsool so we could celebrate tonight,” Namjoon suddenly proclaims.

“I - what?” Your train of thought completely derails before it even leaves the station. “You what?”

“I, uh, bought you that bottle, thinking maybe tonight would be a special occasion. Something to celebrate.” He dips his head, bashful, but you are perplexed.

“We are celebrating? The holidays?” What is he babbling about? You need to tell him how you feel before you lose your nerve again.

“Yeah. I know. But not that. I just, uh,” he clears his throat, “I, uh…” He closes his eyes, then peers down at you as his words rush out in one breath, “IwantedtotellyouthatI’minlovewithyou.”

You’ve lost the ability to speak, mouth agape as you stare up at him. He takes your silence as a reason to panic.

“Oh god. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel weird or - “

He loves you? He loves you. “I love you too.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you crash your mouth against his as a cheer goes up behind you. Followed by a very loud “Finally!” from Yoongi and Jimin grousing that you’re nowhere near the mistletoe.

Namjoon’s arms are warm and strong, locked around your back as he holds you close. That feeling hits you again, of being whole, complete, and you sigh contentedly against his lips. After a moment, you pull away, breathing heavily as Namjoon’s dimples pop. You fondly run a finger across his cheek.

“I guess we have something to celebrate after all,” you state. “That’s why I bought you a bottle, you know. So we could toast after my confession.”

“Great minds,” Namjoon murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “I suppose, with two bottles, we could let everyone have a shot. Make a toast to friends.”

“Mmm, or, we take both bottles back to my place? And toast to whatever comes up.” You run your hand down his chest suggestively as he pulls you closer with a raspy chuckle.

“Sold. Let’s get out of here.” His nose nudges yours. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas, Joon.”

932 notes · View notes

alwaysthebiggerbear · 25 days ago

Text

"Sleep. I'll keep you safe." - Tom Hanniger x Female Reader

Summary: Tom has taken you hostage. This is not the Tom you knew and fell in love with. Unable to escape, can you get him to trust you and maybe even reach him?

Pairing: Tom Hanniger x Female!Reader A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. So, just out of the gate, not gonna lie, this is one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written and probably the darkest. I tried my best do my research and be respectful in regards to DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) but also keep this a few years post-movie (2009) while also staying within the context the movie provided but also explore a bit. Please note I do not work in the psychiatry, psychology, or medical fields. If I got anything incorrect about this disorder, its symptoms, its treaments, anything, please let me know. No harm or disrespect is intended with this fanfiction at all. Unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Warnings: this is dark; explicit violence; hostage situation; mentions of knives; dubcon; sex (smut-light); explicit descriptions of murder; mentions of burying a body; explicit threats of physical violence; explicit threat of sexual violence; explicit threat of neonaticide (I highly recommend looking this word up if you don’t know what it means so you can decide if you still want to read from there; I didn’t feel comfortable spelling it out here tbh); physical threat of neonaticide; explicit threats of murder; mention of past sexual violence; mention of past sexual assault; implied past domestic abuse; misogynistic language; language Word Count: 18k+ First posted on here: 1/1/24 dividers by @firefly-graphics

When you came to, you glanced around the cabin you were currently tied up in. Tears blurred your vision, strands of your hair matted to your face, and you could feel the gag cutting tightly into the sides of your mouth. You didn’t bother trying to yell or make noise. You knew the cabin you were in since Tom had brought you here once to see it; there was no one and nothing around for miles. The next town over where Tom could get supplies was the closest thing and that was about an hour’s drive.

How had things gone so wrong? You tried to be a good person, you always tried to do the right thing…so how did you end up here?

You already knew the answer to that, though. Because you let him in. Literally, right through your front door.

As if your thoughts summoned him, Tom appeared from the kitchen with two plates in hand and a huge grin, despite a black eye and cut lip he was sporting. He laid yours down in front of you and you could see chicken parmesan, your favorite, surrounded by linguini and green beans. He then placed down his own plate in front of his empty chair before turning back to you with a look of determination. “Alright. Let’s get this off you. No screaming, okay?” He asked, using a softer tone than you’d heard from him all day. “No struggling. And no running.” As if there was any point in screaming or running; no one would hear you and he’d catch you before you made it ten feet. He loosened your gag and pushed it down past your chin to hang around your neck. When you didn’t scream, he graced you with a warm smile. “Good girl,” he murmured as he began working on the ropes tying your hands to the chair. When he moved down to the ones on your legs, you rubbed at your sore wrists, noting a few surface cuts around your arms. He noticed and a frown formed on his face. “Sorry, I won’t tie them as tightly next time,” he promised. You didn’t know what else to do but nod.

When he was finished, he sat up and his fingers gently gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His green gaze bore into yours and he tenderly trailed the backs of his fingers against your cheek, almost watching you in some sort of odd reverence that you had no idea existed until the last couple of months. He began to lean in, presumably to try and kiss you like he had earlier, but he must have thought better of it and stopped, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he got to his feet. While you were grateful he hadn’t connected his lips to yours, you had to wonder what deterred him and that made you worry. He studied you for a moment and, just as you feared, he then made his way over to the other chair being used, his soft expression immediately hardening and his warm eyes icing over as they settled on your estranged husband.

He grabbed the back of the chair and dragged him away from the table, choosing to dump him in a corner on his side, making Miles groan in pain. Tom kicked him for good measure and you heard Miles yell out against the gag in his mouth.

“Please,” burst out of you. “Please, Tom, don’t!”

Tom’s glare snapped up towards you. “After everything he’s done to you, don’t tell me you’re still protecting him.”

You knew you had to act quickly, to cajole Tom so you could draw his focus away from Miles. You were the only reason Miles wasn’t dead yet, you knew that without a doubt. “I’m not,” you soothed. “I just want to eat the dinner you went to the trouble of making for me. It’s been hours since I last ate and I really need to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry, too. Please, just come and sit down.”

Thankfully, Tom’s eyes softened a little at your pleading but he still gave Miles one more good kick that made you flinch before he came over to join you. He pulled a knife out of his jacket which made your heart start to pound a little faster but he simply smiled as he also produced a plastic fork. He leaned down and began to cut your chicken into bite size pieces for you. “I, uh, I’ve never made chicken parmesan before so I hope it’s alright,” he told you, a shy smile on his face. You marveled at how he could go from being the scariest thing you’d seen in your life one minute to being the sweetest and most humble guy you’d ever met in the next. “And I know green beans aren’t what would usually go with this dish but I didn’t really have anything else.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, chuckling nervously.

“I’m okay with green beans,” you quietly assured him.

He dropped his hand and smiled, looking relieved and leaning in to tenderly kiss you. You tried your best not to tense up as he did. Tom then made his way over to his seat, leaving you the fork but not the knife. Not only did he not want to chance you using it on him but he most likely didn’t want you using it on yourself either. You never would but he obviously wasn’t too sure about that. You watched as he poured both of you a glass of sparkling cider and sat down a few battery-operated candles between you.

When he handed you your glass, you were disappointed to find it was plastic. He really had thought of everything. He misread your expression and assured you, “I know it’s not the best but I wanted something nice for you for dinner. I’ll get something better though, next time I’m in town. I promise.” You offered up a thin-lipped smile and a nod which seemed to placate him for the time being. So he planned to keep you for a while then. You only hoped Miles would keep his mouth shut and that you could get Tom to start trusting you as you waited for an opportunity that might come your way with the aforementioned trip to town.

Tom took the seat across from you, smiling, and reached over to touch his glass to yours. You watched as he took a sip and after a moment, you joined him, making him grin happily.

As hungry as you were, you weren’t in a rush to eat anything that he had prepared for you out of sight. What if he was intent on drugging you? You weren’t even sure if he hadn’t before. You barely remembered how you got here. All you knew was Miles showed up, having found you, and Tom reacted, then nothing until you woke up here. The only other thing you remembered was blonde hair and so much blood— You tried to shut that thought out. Thinking about Tom again, If he planned to keep you here for a while, he’d have to sleep at some point and he could be planning to drug you then, like right now. And God only knew what he planned to do with Miles; you prayed you could somehow convince him to let the man go while you stayed behind (even though that would be just as dangerous for you). Though Tom hadn’t been wrong; Miles didn’t deserve your compassion. But that didn’t mean you wanted to watch the man you’d once shared a life with die brutally either. If Tom’s distaste for your husband was anything to go by, if he decided to end Miles, it would indeed be brutal.

“Something wrong?”

The question snapped you out of your reverie. You glanced up to find Tom watching you worriedly. You forced a reassuring smile onto your face. “No. Of course not.”

“I thought you needed to eat.” His eyes bored into you, flicking back and forth from the plate to you.

“I will. I’m just…taking it slow.”

He frowned at your food. “It’s not that good, is it?”

“What? No. No,” you worked to reassure him. “It’s just that…” You didn’t want to voice the words and chance angering him.

“Just what?” When you couldn’t think of a way to phrase it and kept quiet instead, he urged you in a softer tone, “Eat, sweetheart.”

You realized then that you had no choice but to take a few bites if you didn’t want to do anything to anger or upset him. You hoped to God that there was nothing in it.

Almost as if he read your mind, his jaw tightened as he went to spear more chicken with his fork on his plate. “There’s nothing in it if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t do that to you.” His eyes lifted to yours, that soft reverence back in them. “To either of you.” He flicked them to your round stomach in meaning and then back to you again.

You wanted to believe him, especially when he looked at you like that, but wouldn’t it be easier for him to be rid of the child that wasn’t his? Then again, he hadn’t killed Miles yet and he fancied himself in love with you, and you were currently housing said child… Perhaps he truly didn’t mean your baby harm, while it was in utero at least.

Tom let out a heavy sigh and dropped the fork, making it clatter against his plate. He was now scowling over at you, clearly displeased at your show of distrust in him. Uh oh.

Now definitely without a choice, you took a forkful of chicken and slowly bit into it. He seemed pleased with the action and after a moment, continued to eat himself. As you quietly chewed, you realized that it wasn’t half bad, and you were starving. As scared as you were, you knew you would need to keep up your energy for any opportunity to escape, to get you and your baby to safety, and truthfully, you needed to take any chance at a meal that you could. Tom smiled to himself as you really dug in.

You had halfway cleaned your plate when you heard “So it’s okay?”

You stopped to see Tom sitting there, leaning forward and watching your every movement, the biggest grin on his face. You swallowed down the chicken you had just stuffed into your mouth and held a hand over your lips self-consciously. “Good,” you admitted quietly. “Very…good.”

Satisfied with that answer and himself, he sat back in his chair and continued to smile over at you. Though it was unnerving, you continued to finish your meal, your goal being to keep your strength up for your baby. When you were done, he got to his feet and grabbed his plate, slowly making his way over to you. Your heart pounded with each heavy footstep and it nearly stopped when he reached you.

Tom grabbed your empty plate and slid his still half-full one in front of you, placing your fork onto it. When you turned a puzzled expression up towards him, he leaned down and pecked your lips, murmuring to you, “You two need it more than I do.” He kissed you one more time before he walked away, heading into the kitchen. You watched him go in shock, thoughts racing in your mind. Knowing he had eaten some of the food and remembering his promise, after mulling it over for a minute or two, you then dug in, your focus on the chicken and green beans. You needed as much energy as you could get.

He spooned you that night after insisting you take the only bed in the place — his bed. You felt him press a tender kiss to the back of your neck every few minutes and while that made you uncomfortable, his hands gently rubbing your belly had you absolutely terrified. You imagined all sorts of horrible things as you laid there in the dark, with only a shaft of moonlight sneaking into the room through an opening in the curtains. You kept expecting a knife to be pulled, a fist to collide with your bump, to feel the stab of a hypodermic needle — something. It got so bad that you started to shake and Tom, thinking you were cold, moved the blanket over you both a little higher before resuming his ministrations. You wanted nothing more than to throw his hands off of you and get out of the bed, moving away from him. It was one thing for him to have his hands on you, though now it made your skin crawl in the worst way, but your baby…you would give anything to keep him away from the one person you’d do anything to protect.

You were frozen in fear despite the tremors of your body. You felt the baby move and while that should have overjoyed you like it usually did, it caused tears to start rolling down your cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath you. How much longer would you get to feel that? How much longer would Tom allow you to keep your baby?

“Oh,” he exhaled against your neck. “She’s kicking.”

You closed your eyes, forcing more tears to fall, as your lips trembled. You thought back to the first time he’d come into contact with your baby this way. You had been such a fool — such a blind, trusting, naive fool.

You were cleaning a wooden frame of a painting with a rag when you felt the familiar movement within your tummy. “Oh,” you chuckled, holding a hand to the side of your stomach.

“Are you okay?”

You glanced up to find Tom up on a ladder, watching you with furrowed brows. You gave him a bright smile. “Yeah, of course. The baby’s kicking. Come down here, quick.”

Still looking worried, Tom hurried down the ladder and approached you.

“Give me your hand.” You grabbed the hand he offered up and placed it right where you had just felt movement. Tom glanced back and forth between you and your stomach, looking unsure for what he should be feeling.

A moment later, the baby kicked again. “There! You feel it?”

You knew he must have because an expression of surprise and awe came over his handsome face as he stared down where you held his hand.

Another kick happened and it made you laugh. “Oh, she’s very active today.”

Tom smiled over at you. “You’re having a girl?”

“Well, I don’t really know what I’m having yet but,” You grinned, feeling yet another kick. “I hope it is.”

“Then I hope it is, too.” You glanced up to find him watching you with that soft look you’d seen before. You gently squeezed his hand in thanks and then focused again on your bump.

Tom had been helping you restore the old house you’d moved into. You felt comfortable around Tom, he put you immediately at ease when you met. He’d been a huge help to you and when you had moments like that, you just chalked it up to him maybe having a little crush on you. At least that’s what Cindy, a new friend of yours (and the realtor who’d helped you find the place), said the first time she’d seen you two together when she stopped by to see how you were doing and how the house was coming along. But you never thought anything more of it. Tom never made a move or asked you out. He also never encroached on your personal space without invitation or pushed past your boundaries. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable. As you got to know him, you began to trust him.

But now, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid.

“You feel that, Y/N?” He breathed, grabbing your hand and holding it to your stomach. “She kicked again.” His tone was so full of wonder and happy surprise that you immediately started to cry. His hand traveled from your stomach up to your hair, smoothing it away from your face. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” You could hear the sudden concern.

“Are you going to kill my baby?” You choked out on a sob.

You felt him turn you onto your back so he could look down at you. He looked less than pleased but he murmured, “No. I told you, I would never hurt either of you. I love you.” He inclined his head towards your stomach. “And her. Everything I’m doing is for you both. I wish you would believe me, Y/N.”

“I really want to,” you cried.

He wiped at your tears and stroked your cheek, before leaning down to kiss you. This time, you opened up for him when he sought entrance beyond your lips and you knew he was pleased by the little groan he let escape into your mouth. You didn’t protest when his hands roamed all over your body, thankfully steering clear of your stomach. You didn’t say a word when he stripped you of your clothes, whispering “Beautiful” as he uncovered every inch of your skin. You didn’t fight when he urged you to open up for him and his tender touch brought you to heights you had never reached before with a partner other than him that left you gasping for air. As you shivered and shook, unable to keep from crying out, and dug your fingernails into his arm, he smiled lovingly down at you. While you came back down, he pressed kisses to your hair, face, and lips. He watched you, almost if he was waiting for something, so you hesitantly reached out for the button on his jeans, thinking you now needed to return the favor, when he stopped you.

“This was about you,” he murmured before kissing you. “It’s been a long day. You should get some rest.”

You nodded, not wanting to disagree in the slightest. He pulled the blankets up over your naked form and urged you onto your side again, away from him. He spooned you once more and placed a kiss to the back of your neck. “Sleep, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ll keep you safe.” His hand then cupped over your belly protectively. “Both of you.”

You bit your lip to keep the tears from starting up again. God, you hoped that was true.

The next morning, you woke up alone, feeling groggier than usual. You panicked for a moment, thinking Tom may have drugged you after all, but you remembered you hadn’t eaten or drunk anything before you went to sleep. You also didn’t find any obvious injection sites when you searched your body in the bathroom, using both mirrors to your advantage. You chalked it up to everything that happened yesterday. It had been taxing on you, mentally and physically. You were just exhausted and needed more sleep. You might even need a nap today, if only you could relax enough to take one. Though you didn’t see that happening anytime soon. You dressed and made your way out to the main room, worried about where Tom was, though you felt a little relief seeing Miles in the room, still breathing.

You found Tom in the kitchen, making you breakfast, and he gave you a big smile when he saw you. “Morning, Beautiful.” He leaned down and pecked your lips, giving a gentle stroke to your belly with his free hand. “My two beautiful girls.” You forced a smile and hugged him from behind, laying your head against his back, just like you used to do. You hoped that the gesture of affection would keep him just like this, a semblance of the Tom you’d known before Miles ever showed up. It must’ve worked because he squeezed your arms with his free hand and continued cooking.

Thankfully, this time when you sat down at the table, he didn’t tie you to the chair. Instead, he smiled at you as he placed the plate of eggs in front of you and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Eat, sweetheart,” he urged. “And then I want to show you something.”

You nodded, immediately digging in and not wanting to displease him.

His smile grew as he watched you and he leaned down once more to kiss your temple. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. His hand slipped down to your belly and gave it a rub. “My girls,” he corrected, before walking back into the kitchen.

Miles, who was still gagged and tied to his chair, glared over at you from the corner of the room. At some point before you came out of the bedroom earlier, Tom had righted his chair so now he could watch every single thing you and Tom did. You weren’t exactly sure what Tom was planning but you didn’t like it. You especially didn’t like that the man who had terrorized you for years was currently staring at you with pure hatred, as if he’d like to kill you, as if all of this was somehow your fault. In a way, you supposed it was because had you not let Tom into your life in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, had Miles left you alone and not coming looking for you, Tom wouldn’t have snapped. At least, you don’t think he would have. And Cindy would still be alive.

“Fucking crazy bitch.” Your eyes snapped to Miles who was still scowling at you. Whatever he said was usually muffled by his gag but you could hear it clear as day. You frowned and went back to your food.

Tom reappeared just then and placed a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He gave you a nod, seeming pleased, until he noticed Miles glaring over at you. You watched the change happen within his expression and suddenly you knew you needed to intervene and quickly. Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed his hand, prompting him to look down at you.

“I need to get exercise. For the baby. Will you take me for a walk after I’m done?”

His eyes briefly softened while the rest of him did not. “Of course.” He dropped your hand and moved around the table, coming to a stop in front of Miles. “You keep looking at her like that and I’ll cut your eyes out and feed them to you,” he threatened with a menacing edge to his tone. “Don’t forget, the only reason you’re even still breathing is because of her.” Tom straightened up, a terrifying smirk on his face, before he punched MIles. You winced, dropping your fork to your plate.

Miles turned back to glare up at Tom, more blood seeping into his gag. “Fuck you, you piece of shit! Fuck you and that fucking crazy whore!” He yelled against the gag. Tom gave him one more punch for good measure, causing Miles to yell out in pain, before he walked away, that smirk still on his face. You watched as Tom sat down across from you and tucked into his own breakfast, seemingly unbothered by what just occurred. You quickly glanced over at Miles, seeing him still glaring but blood coming out of his broken nose.

“He doesn’t deserve your sympathy.”

You quickly looked back at Tom to find him watching you, not glaring so much but also not seeming pleased.

You gripped your fork tightly but forced yourself to keep a smooth expression. “It’s not sympathy, but pity. Pity that he doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.” You turned a glare over on your husband who more than gladly returned it.

When you turned back to Tom, he was studying you, smirking. “Finish your breakfast, sweetheart, so I can show you my surprise and then we can go for that walk.”

You did as he instructed, digging into the fruit, not wanting to displease him any further. Thankfully, though, he seemed to be mollified, for now.

You stared around you in horror, your knees feeling weak. You held onto the wall for support.

Tom had taken your hand and led you to a small room in the back of the cabin that you had no idea existed, near the bedroom you had spent the night in. He smiled at you and told you to shut your eyes when you arrived at the closed door. You did as he instructed, not wanting to make him angry. He opened the door, led you into the room with his hands over your eyes, and then asked if you were ready. You nodded and he dropped his hands as you opened your eyes and looked around you, your jaw dropping.

“Surprise,” he crowed. “What do you think?”

You were thinking you were going to be sick. You were staring at an exact replica of the nursery you and Tom had put together back in your house, right down to the crib sheet, mobile, paint colors, and night light. Everything you had purchased for your nursery, he had obviously gone and bought a double of to place here. You even spotted the same rocking chair in the corner, the same changing table, and the same toys and books you’d decorated the room with. The same stuffed animals sat in the crib. Even a double of the breast pump machine you’d bought was sitting on the changing table.

“What do you think?” Tom asked happily as he glanced around. “Is it just like the one we put together back at your place?”

You robotically walked to the changing table, opening the cabinets underneath, and you saw the same outfits you’d bought, folded and arranged in the exact same way. You held a hand to your mouth; you felt the urge to scream but you couldn’t let it out. You started to shake. How long had he been planning this? To kidnap you and your baby and bring you both here?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said from behind you, forcing you to tense up and drop your hand, schooling your features before you turned to look up at him. He was watching you worriedly. “I only did this as a back-up. In case we ever had to come out here. If that bastard out there ever tracked you down and we had to leave quickly, I wanted to make sure you and our daughter had everything you needed.”

Our daughter. It felt like you were falling into an endless void and you would never wake up from this nightmare. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You managed to ask.

He framed your face with his hands. “I didn’t want to worry you. And I figured it would be a nice surprise if we ever did have to come here. A little piece of home.” He gave you a soft smile. “Do you like it?”

You nodded, not sure what else to do, not able to say anything right then. He grinned and kissed you, happy that you liked the surprise. You thought you’d been in trouble before when he tied you up and brought you out here where no one could hear you scream. Now, you realized, you were in so much more trouble than you’d even imagined.

Tom held your hand as you both walked the property. Thoughts were racing through your mind but you did your best to pay attention to every inch of the land that he took you to.

“You’ve been quiet.” If you closed your eyes, you could swear you could hear the Tom that had become your friend and confidante over the months you’d worked on your house together.

“Just…overwhelmed. And tired.”

Tom stopped in his tracks and your heart rate picked up, worried you had somehow said something wrong.

He turned to you, staring into your eyes, a layer of concern shadowing his expression. “I know this has been a lot and it’s an adjustment. But I promise you, Y/N, all I want is for our family to be together. Without having to worry about sick fucks like the one in there,” He inclined his head back towards the cabin. “Who want to threaten that, who want to hurt you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes. “And Cindy?”

His jaw tightened and he looked away. “She wasn’t your friend.”

“She was,” you choked out. “And she was a good one.”

His gaze snapped back to yours and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “No, she wasn’t, sweetheart. How do you think he found you?”

You shook your head, shaking a few tears loose. No, you refused to believe it. He was just trying to trick you into believing it so you would see things his way. “No. She wouldn’t do that. No.”

Tom wiped your tears away and you could see pity staring back at you. For a cold-blooded killer, it threw you for a loop that he could feel anything like pity or worry for you or concern for the baby or any other emotion besides anger, jealousy, and hatred. “When he showed up in her office, he asked where you were and she told him, point blank. No hesitation, just ‘here’s the address’. He even admitted it.”

“No, he lies. He probably showed up in uniform and that’s why she—”

“She knew better. You told her that was a possibility, you told her his name so she could be on the lookout. And still, she didn’t think twice about it and sent him over to find you.”

“No, she would’ve called me to warn me if that happened, if she had no choice. Maybe that’s why she was there…to warn me.”

He gave you a look. “She wasn’t your friend, Y/N. She gossiped about you behind your back. She came onto me at the Christmas party, though I had gone there with you.”

That revelation surprised you but honestly, you didn’t know what was up or down anymore, never mind the truth. “We went as friends. We weren’t together then.”

“She knew I liked you, that I wanted to be with you.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

You waited until he straightened back up. “That’s still no reason to kill her,” you gritted out, a tear rolling down your cheek.

He looked at you sadly, wiping the tear away. “I know.”

Your brows drew together in confusion. You hadn’t expected that response.

Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead and tightened his grip on your hand. “It’s pretty cold out. Let’s get you back inside where you can get warm.”

You let him lead you back to the cabin, turning that last part of the conversation over and over in your mind. From the sound of it, he knew his killing of Cindy had been wrong. A spark of hope started up in your chest though you were afraid to trust it. He still had you and Miles captive here, after all.

That night, as he spooned you from behind in his bed, he was kissing your neck, his hands moving all over your body. You could feel his erection digging into your back. “I love you so much,” he murmured to your skin. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart. You and me. And our little girl.” He placed his hand on your belly, trailing his lips up to your jaw. You closed your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks, and you tried to imagine the Tom who had first made love to you nearly a month ago, who had sweetly kissed your baby bump every time he left the house and every time he came home. You held onto that Tom in your mind as he undressed you, then himself, probed you to make sure you were ready, and slid into you from behind, sighing happily into your neck as he did. He gently pumped his hips into yours and you could feel his hand making its way down between your legs, touching you in a similar way to how he had touched you last night, with complete tenderness. “We were meant to find each other,” he grunted into your ear as you arched your back and laid your head against his shoulder, reacting to his touch. “Be a family.” You tried to ignore his words and only focus on the pleasure coursing through you. He’d said these things to you before, back when he was your Tom, and you’d believed him.

You could hear the old bed creaking beneath you and you could feel his rhythm increasing, the moans and sweet whispers in your ear picking up in frequency. You knew he was close and you squeezed your eyes shut harder, trying to imagine you and him back in your bed at your house, as if nothing had changed between you. That image helped bring you closer to the edge and you reached an arm back, gripping his hair, crying out as you got even closer and closer. His pace increased and the headboard was knocking against the wall now, his groans sounding out in rapid succession, almost tangling with your cries in midair, joining together in an almost impassioned chorus. Lost in your fantasy and the sensations you were feeling, you moaned out, “Kiss me.” Tom’s mouth was on yours, his tongue sweeping against your own, and that pushed you over the edge. You stiffened and he swallowed your cries, grunting loudly himself and intertwining his fingers with yours, squeezing as he fell over his own edge. You were still shaking a couple of minutes later when he slipped out of you and gently rolled you onto your back as you caught your breath.

You could see him beaming down at you, still panting himself, his hair messy from your fingers, eyes bright and full of adoration for you. The same way he’d looked the other times you’d had sex in the past. It made your heart soar but also break mid-flight. “I love you.” You saw how much he meant it and your heart completely shattered.

Your eyes filled with tears as you reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I love you, too,” you whispered. And you did, this version of Tom, anyway. His smile grew and he laid his head down on your chest, sighing in contentment as you ran your fingers soothingly through his hair. Tears dripped down your cheeks as you held him, wondering how the universe could be so cruel as to send someone to you that loved you and your baby so much only to have him turn out to be a cold-blooded killer.

You woke up alone again, even groggier than the day before. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if Tom was actually drugging you in some way once you fell asleep. You had held him until he fell asleep himself last night but obviously, at some point, he must have woken up after you passed out.

You felt irritable, which was most likely a side effect of the grogginess you felt and possibly whatever Tom was drugging you with, as well as typical pregnancy hormones. It was so bad that you couldn’t even be bothered to drum up a smile for Tom who was looking at you like you were the best thing that existed on the planet. You took the food he gave you and dug in, not even thanking him like you usually made sure to do.

You felt off and when he spoke softly to you, “Eat, sweetheart, and then we’ll go for another walk”, you nearly snapped at him, demanding to know what he’d been drugging you with and why. You’d only just held yourself back, reminding yourself you weren’t supposed to say or do anything that would anger him.

Miles, though, was fair game.

He had called you names, though muffled by the gag, the minute Tom stepped out of the room. You ignored him as best you could, though it still got under your skin. Who the hell was he to sit there and call you things like “whore” and “slut”? Even if he had heard you and Tom together last night? Was he so stupid that he didn’t realize the predicament he was in, that you all were in? Had Tom’s threats and beatings not made it clear enough? When Tom got up to get you more decaffeinated tea, Miles threw more insults your way and you decided, yes, he really was that stupid. Nothing you hadn’t already known, you supposed.

Tom placed the tea in front of you and you gave him a nod. His brows drew together for a moment before he smoothed them out, taking his seat once more. He glanced between you and Miles. “Everything okay?”

“Terrific,” you snapped. It didn’t hit you until you said it what you had done. You quickly glanced up at Tom who didn’t look displeased at your attitude (thankfully) but was studying you intently. “Sorry,” you offered more gently. “I’m not having a good morning.”

He nodded, his brows still drawn together. “Well, finish up and we’ll get out of here for a while, stretch our legs, and get some fresh air.” He gave you a patient and understanding smile.

You gave him a wan smile in return, realizing how lucky you were that he was being so understanding and hadn’t gotten angry with you. You were picking up the plastic butter knife to spread jam on your toast when Miles said something nasty to you both, once again muffled by his gag.

At that point, you’d had enough. You dropped the knife and pounded the table with your fist, making the plates shake. “Shut. Up!” You yelled over at him. He scowled at you but did indeed shut up. You realized what you’d done and you worriedly glanced back at Tom. His eyes were flicking back and forth between you and Miles before getting to his feet. Your heart leapt into your throat. Oh no. Now you’d done it.

He made his way over to you, glaring at Miles as he did. When he stopped in front of you, he held out his hand which you warily took. He pulled you to your feet and gripped your chin between his fingers. “I think we should go for that walk now. Okay?” You nodded, not exactly sure what was going to happen but you noticed him shooting a terrifying glare in Miles’ direction. You remembered you needed to keep your strength up so you picked up the piece of toast you had been intent on eating and took it with you as he led you to the door. He saw and chuckled, squeezing your hand, as he opened the screen door for you both to walk through.

“You feeling a little better?”

You turned to look at him, wondering how to answer that. Yes, you weren’t as edgy, but no, you didn’t exactly feel better. You finally settled on “A little.”

He gave you a hint of a smile and nodded, averting his gaze to the path in front of you.

After a minute, he spoke. “You know, if he’s becoming a problem, I can take care of it.”

You froze, stopping in your tracks, your eyes wide. This was exactly what you didn’t want.

He noticed you had stopped and glanced back at you over his shoulder with furrowed brows.

You didn’t want to anger him but maybe you were too tired, too scared, or too irritated — you couldn’t help but finally speak your mind. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

Instead of angry, he appeared confused as he spun around to fully face you. “Why? He’s obviously upsetting you, which isn’t good for the baby or you, he’s stinking up the place, he refuses to eat anything. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve to live after what he’s done to you. No one’s even going to miss the guy. Not to mention, it would keep you and our daughter safe… What’s the point of keeping him around?”

Tears started to blur your vision as you finally admitted the truth. “I can’t… I can’t kill someone, even him.”

Tom stared into your eyes before licking his lips and looking away. “That’s why I’m offering to do it.”

It terrified you to say this next part but you had to say it. “If this is going to work with us, as a family…you can’t kill anymore people, Tom.” His eyes snapped to yours and your heart began to pound harder in fear. “You can’t kill and I can’t order someone’s death. Even his.” Tears made their way down your face and his gaze softened a little, seeing them.

He reached up and wiped them away with his thumbs before pulling you into him, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Okay,” he murmured to you. “Okay. We’ll figure something else out for him.” He embraced you tightly and you closed your eyes, relieved. “And then it’ll just be us, the three of us, our family.”

You nodded against him, though you secretly knew you still had to figure out a way to escape. Perhaps once you were able to figure out what to do with Miles, then that would leave just the two of you. And then either Tom would be forced to take you into town for supplies which gave you more of an opportunity to escape or get help, or he’d be forced to leave you here. Based on the two walks you had so far, you were starting to get to know the property. Even though there was nothing but woods surrounding you, perhaps you could make your way at least to the property line. From there, you could figure out your next move.

He released you, kissed you, and took your hand again to start heading back.

“And Tom?”

He glanced over at you.

You didn’t want to push your luck but since you had already spoken up about Miles and the killing, you were going to speak up about this, too. Especially since your child was at stake. “Whatever you’re drugging me with at night, you have to stop. It could be hurting the baby.”

He furrowed his brows again. “Sweetheart, I’m not drugging you. I told you, I would never do anything to hurt her. Or you. I would never put either of you at risk like that.”

You wanted to believe him but you also knew what you felt. “Then why do I feel so groggy when I wake up in the morning? And it’s gotten worse each time?”

He studied you, looking as if he wanted to say something, when a sudden realization dawned on his face. A smile crept along his face. “You’re probably tired because I’ve been keeping you up at night. You probably just need a good night’s rest, that’s all. I’ll tell you what, tonight you take a nice, hot shower, we’ll go to bed a little earlier, and we’ll just sleep. How does that sound?”

You didn’t want to appear too eager for him not to engage in any sexual activities with you so you just nodded and hugged his arm, whispering, “That sounds good, thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him, leading you both back to the cabin. His smile turned sheepish. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just couldn’t resist you, but don’t worry, I promise to keep my hands to myself. Your rest is more important, especially for her.” He laid a hand over your bump, patting it gently, and you tried not to cringe under his arm.

Two weeks had passed and truth be told, you were surprised no one had come looking for you yet, considering you, Tom, and Miles were missing, you were pregnant, and Cindy’s dead body had been left in your house. Your due date was little more than a month away, and you were starting to worry you might have to deliver at the cabin if you weren’t found soon.

Miles was still with you both, alive, as cantankerous as ever. He eventually started to eat the small amounts of food Tom let him have when he realized Tom wasn’t going to kill him and he obviously wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He still threw insults at you every chance he got but for the most part, you ignored him to the best of your ability. If Tom overheard, which was rare, he beat the crap out of Miles until either you begged him to stop or Miles lost consciousness. You and Tom were still trying to figure out what to do with him, but short of taking him somewhere deep in the woods and dropping him off there with the hopes that a bear might get him, you didn’t really have any options. And since you asked Tom not to kill him, a hostage Miles remained.

Tom had kept his word and kept his hands to himself at night. He still spooned you, still kissed you and caressed your bump, but he let you sleep. You still woke up groggy sometimes, as if you hadn’t slept a wink, but it had gotten a little better. Tom blamed those mornings on the old mattress. He swore he’d buy a new one the next time he was in town (which thankfully was coming up soon). You had taken to showering before bed every night, hoping the hot water would relax your body enough that you would drift off into a deep, restful sleep. You had actually gotten used to Tom cuddling you and you no longer feared for your child’s life when he touched your belly. He talked to the baby sometimes, something you heard while you were falling asleep, and his tone was so gentle and loving and reverent, that you couldn’t help but think he really meant it when he said he wanted all of you to be a family. He had even taken to kissing the bump again throughout different parts of the day or if he had to go outside to chop wood. He cooked for you every day without complaint, though you’d offered to pitch in to help (hoping he would trust you completely and you could get access to knives and other cooking tools that could be weaponized at some point if needed). He’d given you a knowing smile and thanked you but told you that he was fine with the arrangement, he didn’t mind. You mentally cursed yourself at being so transparent but you were also thankful he hadn’t gotten angry.

For the most part, though, you’d settled into a sort of routine with Tom every day: breakfast, walk, you were free to move around the cabin as he chopped wood for an hour, he’d take you into the nursery to sit in the rocking chair for a bit to either go over possible baby names or to sit and read to the baby or to play music (he had gotten the same pair of fetal headphones you did), lunch, a nap he insisted you take each day to help you rest better while he fixed things up around the cabin, a free couple of hours to do whatever you wanted, dinner, another walk, shower, and then bed.

You were following this routine one such day when Miles appeared to have finally lost his mind altogether.

It was dinnertime and you had come into the main room with a book in your hand. When setting up the nursery here, Tom had bought the same books you had to prepare for the pregnancy. You were able to pick up where you left off in What To Expect When You’re Expecting. You sat down as Tom came in with a plate of carrots for you to snack on. He smiled when he saw your nose in the book, mindlessly reaching out for a carrot, and dropped a kiss on your head. “What chapter are you on?”

“Still on the eighth month,” you answered without looking at him, taking a bite out of the carrot.

“Mmm,” he hummed against your hair. “Maybe you’ll finish it by the time we eat. I’ve got about ten more minutes left and then we’re good to go.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got carrots to munch on and plenty to read in the meantime.” You held the book up in gesture.

He chuckled and dropped another kiss to your head before walking away. You immediately got back to reading.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tom loosen Miles’ gag and then shove two pieces of white bread in his mouth. “Here, dipshit.” He slammed a small plastic cup of water on the arm of his chair, spilling most of it and not really caring. “Enjoy.”

Tom left the room with a glare over his shoulder in Miles’ direction.

Miles spit out the bread and turned furious eyes on you. You ignored him, choosing to go back to your chapter.

“You stupid, crazy fucking whore.”

Your jaw tightened but you remained silent, picking up another carrot to snack on.

“You hear me? You’re so desperate for dick you’re playing house with that crazy fucker.”

You could feel yourself tense up but you simply turned the page.

“You’re a stupid fucking crazy whore and I always knew you were.”

You rolled your eyes. “Careful, Miles, you’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

That had been a mistake to say. A shark-like grin appeared on Miles’ face — well, as much as it could with his face beat to hell. “You want to hear something different? Alright, how about this? When I get outta here and I will get outta here, I’m going to kill that motherfucker right in front of you. I’m going to bash his skull in while you watch. Then when I’m done with him, I’m going to come for you.” You tried not to show it but you could feel an age-old fear creeping up on you. “Since you’re such a whore, I’m gonna use you like the whore you are, over and over again, until you’re crying and begging me to stop. And just like old times, I won’t.” You could feel the tremors starting up. “I’ll even fuck you right next to his corpse so you can cry all over his brains on the ground. And then when I’m finished with you, good and finished, I’m going to beat the hell out of you but not before I cut that baby out of you and strangle it with its own cord right in front of you. Then if you’re somehow still alive after all that, I’m gonna kill you. And I’m gonna get a medal for it. ‘Hero cop stops modern-day Bonnie and Clyde from continuing their killing spree.’ You just wait. The governor will be shaking my hand and I may even get a call from the goddamn President, thanking me for my service. I put down three rabid dogs, all for the price of one, the one I was tracking down in the first place. I’m gonna be a goddamn hero for this, for ripping you and your evil spawn from this world. How’s that for a new record, you crazy whore?”

A tear slipped down your cheek and he laughed.

“I should’ve fucking gotten rid of you when I had the chance. Now, I’ll have that chance and I’m going to enjoy it.” He laughed again.

You wiped your cheek just in time for Tom to walk in with a bow of mashed potatoes. You noticed that for all of Miles’ bravado a moment earlier, he sure got quiet when Tom walked into the room.

Tom placed the bowl down on the table. “Just give me five more minutes.” He glanced up and immediately knew something was off. “What’s wrong?”

You gave him a thin smile. “Nothing,” you assured him. “Looks like I’m not going to make it to the ninth month chapter after all.” You placed the book down; you had lost your appetite for both knowledge and for food. “I’m actually not feeling well so I think I’m going to go to bed early.”

He tilted his head, confused. “But you were feeling fine a few minutes ago. Was it the carrots? Or something else…?”

You shook your head, ignoring Miles’ chuckling under his breath. “I just need to lay down. I’m sorry, I know you worked hard on dinner. Can you save me some for tomorrow?”

Tom’s eyes darted to Miles, his jaw tightening. “Of course. Get some rest and feel better, sweetheart. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” You turned and left the room, wincing when you heard Miles yelling out in pain presumably from Tom hitting him but you refused to turn back and look.

When you got out of the shower and dressed in the sleeveless maternity nightgown Tom had thought to buy for you, you wiped the condensation off the mirror with a hand and stared into it. You couldn’t believe the things Miles had said to you but then again it was Miles, so you could. A part of you wondered if Tom was right; would it be safer for you and your baby if Miles was gone for good? You shook the thought from your head, not even wanting to entertain it. No matter how horrific Miles was, no matter how dangerous, you weren’t a killer. Even if he was killed by some other means, you didn’t want to be the one responsible. You were better than that, a better person. You wouldn’t become like Miles and let him win.

You heard a soft knock on the door. “Y/N?”

You nervously licked your lips and went to open the door. You hoped Tom wasn’t upset with you for missing dinner. But when you opened it, all you saw was concern and worry staring back at you.

He ducked his head, meeting your eyes. “Are you feeling any better?”

You tried to smile but it probably came out as a grimace. “Yeah.”

Tom studied you for a moment and then held out his hand which looked remarkably clean considering what he had done to Miles recently. “I want to show you something.”

Thinking it might have to do with Miles, you started to shake your head. “No, I don’t—”

“It’s for the baby,” he soothed. “I have it right here on the bed.”

You let out a quiet breath of relief and took his hand. He kissed your forehead and led you over to the bed where a box sat on top. He urged you to get closer and take a look at it, releasing you.

You gazed down at the box, picking it up and looking it over. “A home fetal heart monitor?”

“Yeah.” He sat down on the bed, taking the box from you and opening it. “I know you haven’t been able to go for your usual checkup due to our…situation at the moment.” He pulled everything out and laid it on the bed. “I bought this long before we came here, in case we needed it. You said the baby is pretty active every day so I didn’t think it was needed. But, you know what, maybe it’s not a bad idea to check in on her. What do you say?”

You were honestly floored at the gesture and you wondered if he had gotten Miles to confess what he’d said or if he overheard again. Either way, you were touched. “Um…” You bit your lip, trying to keep from crying. Damn these pregnancy hormones sometimes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yeah,” you laughed, a tear slipping out as you reached for the wand.

He read the instructions and you both figured out how to use it. He urged you to sit back against him as he lifted the hem of your nightgown over your belly. He applied the gel and you used the wand, moving it around until your baby’s heartbeat started to sound from the speaker. You couldn’t help but smile.

“There she is,” Tom whispered into your ear in awe. “There’s our little girl.”

You felt your eyes welling up again, joy and relief flooding through you as you listened to your baby’s steady heartbeat. You turned your head to look at Tom, seeing the same emotions reflecting back at you. “Thank you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Somehow he knew just what you needed. The louder and steadier your baby’s heartbeat was, the more it drowned out Miles’ words.

You felt completely at peace and able to drift off to sleep soon after, with Tom wrapped around you. Your baby was okay and she was going to be safe.

Perhaps Miles was right. Maybe you were kind of playing house with a “crazy fucker” as he claimed. But you’d take that crazy fucker over Miles anyday. That crazy fucker cared more about your child than he, the biological father, did. Tom cared about her, wanted her, and would do whatever it took to keep you both safe while Miles had threatened to hurt her, hurt you both. So yeah, you’d take the “crazy fucker” any day of the week.

A scream startled you awake. You sat up as best as you could, glancing around the dimly lit bedroom. You could see the first shafts of morning light peeking through the windows. You were alone in the bed. “Tom?” You called, scared when you didn’t see him. You didn’t know what you’d heard but you were frozen in terror.

Another pained scream erupted out of nowhere and it sounded like it was coming from outside. Miles’ words came back to you and you hurriedly got to your feet, realized you were nude (Tom must have taken your nightgown off to be skin on skin again; he liked that), and dressed. Your hair was still damp from your shower last night but you had no time to throw it up in a bun or ponytail. You felt sore and you noticed a few cuts on your fingers. The sight terrified you especially given how sore your body was and how you had woken up nude but Tom was nowhere to be found. Especially when you remembered Miles’ threats. “Tom?” You cried but you still got no answer.

You made your way to the main room and gasped when you saw blood in the corner where Miles had been, partially covered by a sheet. You noticed there was blood spatter all over the walls, in almost every nook and cranny. Some of it had even landed on the table, the opposing wall, and the area of floor you were about to step on. “No. No!” You weren’t sure if you were more scared of Tom at this moment, or for him. You belatedly realized he must have overheard Miles threatening you and the baby last night and that was definitely why he brought out the fetal monitor to assure you. You’d had such a sweet moment with it; how did you go from that to this within a matter of hours?

You ran out the door, the screen door slamming back against the house. You didn’t see anything or anyone in the distance. You heard the screaming again and it seemed like it was coming from the surrounding woods to your right.

“Tom!” You screamed.

You ran back inside, looking for anything you could use as a weapon, maneuvering as best you could with your stomach but not finding anything, and hurried back out to the porch. You had to stop Tom. Miles had been horrific to you and didn’t deserve your intervention but you couldn’t let this happen to him. He was a human being, a horrible disgusting human being, but a human being nonetheless. You were about to hurry down the stairs when a bloody Tom appeared in front of you, a pickaxe in his hand.

You froze, unsure if you should run back inside or if that would even make a difference. You held a hand over your mouth and your eyes filled with tears when you noticed something hanging from one side of the pickaxe’s blade that looked suspiciously organ-like.

He came to a stop in front of you, near the bottom of the stairs, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “Is it the baby?” He asked worriedly, panting.

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from yelling in terror. You couldn’t keep the tears from spilling down your face, though.

He saw and his brows drew together until realization dawned upon his face. He dropped the pickaxe to the ground and spoke gently. “I’m okay, sweetheart. This isn’t my blood.”

Tom actually thought you were worried about him, that somehow Miles had gotten a hold of him like he’d threatened and was doing horrific, unspeakable things to him. A voice deep down told you to play along. “Will you please come inside then and let me clean you up?” You fought hard to keep the wobble out of your voice.

His eyes softened and he climbed the stairs to stand before you. The sight of so much blood made you want to vomit. You weren’t squeamish by any means but the amount of blood covering Tom from head to toe… If Miles wasn’t dead already, he soon would be.

Tom went to reach out a hand to your cheek but then saw the blood and thought better of it, dropping it to his side.

“Y-You promised,” you forced out.

“I did.”

“Why then? W-Why did you break it? We were…we were doing so well,” you sobbed out.

His jaw tightened but his eyes saddened. “We still are. Let me go finish…that. I’ll come back, clean up, and then we’ll talk.” He said it as if he was simply going to finish chopping firewood and then come back for lunch.

“Tom,” you gasped, trying to breathe through the sobs tearing out of you. “If you continue ro torture him, I can’t be with you.”

His brows furrowed again and you waited for the terrifying expression you’d seen all too often to make a reappearance. Instead, he looked more confused than ever. “I’m not torturing him, Y/N.”

“Yes, you are. I heard him screaming.”

His lips parted in shock and he went to reach out for you again. This time, you flinched and moved backwards on reflex. He dropped his hand and curled it into a fist. You were scared that you angered him but God, how could you live with yourself if you let him go continue killing Miles slowly and brutally?

“Sweetheart,” he spoke gently. “No one was screaming. Except you.”

“I know what I heard, Tom!” Was he seriously trying to gaslight you right now into believing you had been hearing things? The bloody pickaxe was still on the ground, with whatever attached it, for crying out loud. “It woke me up!”

His eyes softened then. “Miles was dead before I dragged him out here. You saw…inside…no one could have survived that.”

You felt like your heart stopped. The way he talked about murdering another human being so casually made your blood run cold.

He took another step closer and you took another step backwards. He held out a placating hand but all you could see was the blood caked on his skin. “Y/N, look at me.” You lifted your gaze to his and only then did you notice how badly you were shaking. “I need you to take some deep breaths and relax.”

“Relax?” You laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“You need to stay calm for the baby.”

You huffed out a snort in disbelief but after a moment, you realized he was right. The last thing you needed right now was for labor to start early or for there to be any complications when you were this remote. You forced yourself to take deep breaths.

“Good.” He gave you a tiny smile. “Now, I need you to listen to me.”

You focused on your breathing, not wanting to listen to him but you had no choice.

“I need you to go inside and pack your things. There’s a bag under the bed you can put your clothes and the baby’s clothes in. When I’m done, I’ll come in, clean myself up, and get the rest of what we’ll need.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re taking me somewhere else? Are you serious?” You felt like your mind was unraveling. “What about— What about the nursery?” You could care less about the nursery right now but it was what your mind grasped onto, trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

“We’ll take most of it with us. Don’t worry. I can recreate it in the new place. Quickly, too, before she comes.”

“Another remote cabin?” You snapped.

He shook his head. “A home. For us, for our family. There’s a swingset in the backyard and everything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just how long have you been planning this? First this cabin? Now a house? How long, Tom?” You demanded.

He seemed unsure how to answer but he said, “As long as I’ve had to. Now, please, go inside and pack. If you hear anything, just know I’m okay and he’s already dead. Alright?”

You kept focusing on your breathing, not answering him.

“I promise I’ll explain everything once we’re on the road.”

The road? Depending on which road he planned to take, there may be other cars on that road, places he needed to pull over for gas — people. You could possibly flag someone down for help or even make an escape attempt that might be successful. The road was good. It meant opportunity.

You took another deep breath and nodded, opening the screen door and walking inside, refusing to look back at Tom or the massacre-decorated corner of the main room.

You had packed everything Tom had told you to: your clothes, the baby clothes, your book, any necessities. After a while, Tom had come back, spent a few hours attempting to clean the blood from the main room which he urged you to keep the bedroom door shut for with the bedroom window open in case, jumped in the shower, and then urged you out the door. He packed everything else up into his truck. He’d even disassembled the crib and tied the rocking chair down securely in the truck bed. The changing table was being left behind as well as the cubbies he’d stored the books and toys in but everything else came with. He also managed to quickly pack a cooler of food and drinks, and took whatever he could from the cupboards. It was an odd sensation, standing by the truck as he did all of this, not offering to help. A part of you wanted to but the other part was still angry with him for killing Miles and breaking his promise to you. Another third smaller part was scared to death that you were about to share the same fate, or at least you would once the baby was born. Tom wanted your baby; that was crystal clear to you now as you noticed the larger percentage of what was packed had more to do with the baby than anything else. While he had told you he wanted you all to be a family, perhaps he was just waiting for you to give birth and then that would be it. For you.

You focused on maintaining your breathing and told yourself you would get away long before that could happen.

Once everything was packed up and the cabin was closed up, Tom opened the passenger door for you and helped you up into the seat. You wouldn’t have accepted his help if you thought you could get up there yourself but a very big belly tended to offset everything. He got into the driver seat, slipped a baseball cap on, and pulled away from what had been your temporary home for a few weeks.

It was about fifteen miles on the highway or so, with nary a car in sight, that you finally turned to Tom (who you had been ignoring this entire ride so far) and asked the question that had been sitting in the back of your brain. “You heard him last night, didn’t you?”

Tom turned a confused expression onto you.

“When he threatened me.”

His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, turning back to the road ahead. “No. I didn’t. I knew he had probably said something to upset you but I didn’t know he did that. Had I, I would’ve…” He shook his head, angry, clenching a fist. “Makes sense, though.”

“What makes sense?”

He nervously licked his lips and reached over to pick up your hand. You went to yank it back but he tightened his grip and placed a kiss to your skin. “I promised I would tell you everything and I will.”

“Now seems like a good a time as any,” you seethed, still trying to pull your hand back but he wouldn’t let you.

“Let’s get some driving out of the way first. We’ve got a ways to go and I’d rather we put as much distance as we can between us and that cabin.”

“Yeah, I bet,” you muttered.

He seemed displeased with your reaction but he let your hand go and continued focusing on the road. And for the first time since this whole thing started, you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. That worried you a bit because you should be trying to keep him happy, calm, trusting, and instead you were doing the exact opposite. But the anger and betrayal you felt seemed to be overriding everything at the moment.

“Hey. Y/N.”

You were being gently shaken awake and you opened your eyes, glancing all around you. You were still in the front seat of the truck and the sun was starting to go down. You turned to see Tom rubbing your shoulder.

“You need to use the bathroom, sweetheart?” He murmured.

Almost as if on cue, your bladder started to hurt. You nodded, rubbing your eyes.

“Okay.”

He jumped out of the truck and made his way over to your side. He opened your door and lifted you to the ground, grunting in the effort. Had he been someone else, you would’ve felt bad for the strain he was putting on his body in doing so.

You were at a rest stop where other cars surrounded you. You saw families milling about, couples, friends traveling together — people.

He grabbed your hand and gripped it tightly. “Stay close to me.” Of course he wanted you to stay close to him. He didn’t want you running off for help after all.

You let him lead you into the building as you tried to formulate a plan to escape him. He held you closer as he pushed his way through people waiting in line for the various food vendors available and brought you to the women’s bathroom. Thankfully, there was no line. You were just waiting to get in there and lock the door behind you. But as luck would have it, he opened the door himself and ducked his head in. When he determined it was clear, he urged you in ahead of him and locked you both inside.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.”

You glared at him and went to find a stall, realizing he’d already anticipated your plan. When you found one, you relieved the pangs of your bladder and tried to think of a new plan. You heard him checking the other stalls around you as a precaution.

Technically, there were a lot of people around. If you screamed in the middle of the crowd, he couldn’t do anything about it. You smiled to yourself. Yeah, you liked that plan.

You finished doing what you needed to do and exited the stall to wash your hands. While you were drying them, arms came around you, a hand tenderly placed against your belly, and you heard Tom whisper in your ear, “I love you. I love both of you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what he said. If I had, maybe I could’ve done something to keep this morning from happening.”

You refused to look at him, in the mirror or next to you. Too little, too late. “You broke your promise to me, Tom.”

“I didn’t break my promise to you, sweetheart.”

“Really?” You spun around, glaring up at him. “And what do you call this morning? Look, Miles was a despicable human being who did the most horrific things to me a long time ago and threatened to do even more horrific things if he got loose, but he was still a human being. You know what? It’s not even about him. I didn’t even ask you not to kill him for him, I asked you not to kill him for me. Not because I cared in the slightest what happened to him, but because I can’t be with someone who just goes around killing people because they can! I have a baby to think about, Tom! What if she cries too loudly or she doesn’t put her toys away when we tell her to? What then?”

With each word you said, he looked more and more pained. “I’m going to be a good father to her, Y/N. I’m really doing the best I can to keep…certain impulses in control. It’s not easy. Even when there are certain risky things going on that are tempting those impulses.”

“What?” What was he talking about?

“I didn’t want to have this conversation until we got to the house but if you need to hear it now so you know how much I love you and the baby, then so be it. Y/N, I—”

A loud pounding sounded on the door. “The door’s locked!” Some woman yelled.

“Shit,” he muttered before turning to look down at you pleadingly. “Look, I get that you can walk out that door, scream for help, I would have to run, and then you’d never see me again. But Christ, Y/N, I’m asking you to please give me a chance to explain. Just one. If you don’t want to be with me after that or allow me to be her dad,” He swallowed compulsively at that part. “Then you two can stay in the new house and I’ll move on. I promise.”

“Hey, some of us have to go to the bathroom, too! Open up!”

You gritted your teeth and glanced up at him skeptically. “Another promise?”

“I haven’t broken the last one I made to you yet.”

You shot him a look.

“Open up or we’re going to report you!”

“Report me to who?” You snapped at the door. “The bathroom police? Please.” You turned back to Tom who was smirking down at you. “What?”

He only smirked wider and offered you his hand. You realized you must definitely be nuts because after a moment, you took it. He leaned down to kiss your nose, whispering, “Thank you.”

A second later, he gripped your hand tightly. “No matter what, we keep our heads down and just get back to the truck. Deal?”

You gave him a hesitant nod and moved closer to his back, so he could break through the crowds for you both.

He unlocked the door and opened it, rushing past a couple of women standing sentry at the door. The loud one yelled at you as you passed, “Really? That’s what we were waiting on? Disgusting! I should report you both!”

You had the strongest urge to yell something back but Tom squeezed your hand and hurried out of there, ignoring any onlookers.

You were just about to step into the parking lot when you heard a feminine giggle to your right. You glanced over and saw a young woman flirting with a young guy. She was touching his jaw with the tip of her finger, and he was smirking down at her.

She giggled again and the images in front of you began to swim. Suddenly, another image overtook it.

You were back in your house, at the top of the stairs, watching as your friend Cindy was all smiles at Tom. He was coming down off of the ladder from installing the light at the top of the foyer. He gave her a polite smile and when she asked where you were, he said you were upstairs resting, the baby had been really active that morning.

Cindy watched as he wiped his hands on a rag and she sidled up to him. “Tom, what are you doing? Playing house with the new weird pregnant girl who won’t tell anyone where she’s from, and stepping in as Daddy? It doesn’t suit you. You’re young and strong and full of life. Don’t let her suck it out of you.” Your grip on the railing tightened.

Tom had politely pushed her away. “I love her, Cindy. I love them both. They’re my life. Now, if you can’t accept that or even speak nicely about her in her own home, then I think it’s time for you to leave.” He gestured towards the door.

Cindy tried once more. “But, Tom, we had some fun times together, didn’t we? Wouldn’t you prefer that to whatever this is?” She gestured around the foyer in disgust.

“Yes, we did. And no, I don’t. Like I told you at the Christmas party, I’m not interested. So, please leave.”

“Ugh, fine. Call me when you get bored of the fake family routine.” She was walking towards the door finally. You could see Tom’s jaw tighten as he watched her go, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

You quietly hurried down to the last few steps, plastering a big smile on your face. “Cindy, is that you?”

Tom’s gaze snapped over to you and Cindy spun on her heel with the biggest fake smile. “Y/N! I was just asking after you. Tom told me you were getting some rest so I figured I’d drop by later to see how you were doing.”

You made your way down the stairs, Tom holding out a hand to help you. You gave him a smile of thanks and laid a hand on your belly, rubbing. “Yeah, she was being a little overactive this morning and tired Mommy out.” You then placed your hands on your belly as if you were blocking the baby’s ears. “Usually happens after a great night of sex,” you said in a more conspiratorial tone.

Tom grinned down at you. “Damn right it does.” He pulled you to him, kissing you.

You chuckled against his lips, playfully pushing away from him, your cheeks warm. “Tom, we have company.” You inclined your head in Cindy’s direction who still had the fake smile going.

Tom shrugged. “She was just leaving.” He leaned in to kiss you again when you laughed and turned to let him kiss your cheek instead.

“Oh my word, you two are just too cute together. Like a Christmas card without all of the…Christmas,” Cindy let out in a laugh.

Tom moved and slipped his arms around you from behind, pressing kisses to your cheek as he rubbed at your belly.

“So, Cindy, what did you drop by for?” You asked, playfully slapping at Tom’s hand that was subtly moving above your belly. He snickered into your ear before nibbling on it.

“You know what, you seem a little busy right now, hun. I’ll drop by later so we can talk.”

You gave her a bright smile. “That’d be great. I’ll put coffee on for you and tea for me, and we’ll chat then.”

“Absolutely! See you then!” She wiggled her fingers in a goodbye and then was out the door.

Your smile dropped as soon as the door closed. Tom saw and placed his lips at your ear. “I take it you heard all of that before you came down?”

You turned a stone cold expression on him.

He sighed and laid his forehead against yours. “I love you and want to be with you. Only you. You know that.”

“But you’ve been with her?”

“It was only a couple of times, purely casual. It was done before you even came to town.”

You gripped his chin tightly. “Are you sure you want to give up fun times together and play Daddy?”

His brows drew together, studying you. “Yes. Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t be here.”

Your expression softened and you released him. “You mean that?” You whispered.

He gave you a soft smile and kissed you. “We could be up in the mountains somewhere, just the three of us, and I’d be happy. So, yes, sweetheart, I mean it. We’re a family and nothing is going to threaten that. I promise.”

You hugged his arms around you and leaned back against him, relaxing and smiling. You really had no idea what you had done to deserve Tom coming into your life when he did.

Which is why you were so desperate to keep him with you, to keep your family together. When Cindy walked into your kitchen a few hours later, you were determined to lay down the law. To let her know that you overheard her earlier and while you appreciated her helping you find this house (and Tom by extension), she was no longer welcome in it. Instead, though, she ended up dead. She made a comment to you about Tom that was heavy with implication and before you knew it, you attacked her. Multiple stab wounds to the body after a smashed coffee pot over her head that caused third-degree burns. She just wouldn’t stop screaming.

Tom arrived back from a trip to the store and found you in the kitchen, still stabbing her long after she finally stopped screaming, his eyes wide. He wrestled you for the knife and tossed it before gripping your face and staring into your eyes. “Y/N, it’s me! Look at me! Y/N!”

You both heard your backdoor opening, and in walked your estranged husband who you had been running from. Miles’ eyes were wide as he took in the bloody scene in front of him and he whistled, chuckling. “Always knew you were a crazy whore.” Tom immediately recognized him from the picture you’d shown him and he let you go, fury filling his expression.

Tom attacked him and they fought. Miles had somehow managed to best Tom at one point and he was about to go to town on him when you hit him with a frying pan. It gave Tom the opportunity he needed to get out from under him and before Miles could even try to attack you once he recovered, you held a knife to his throat as Tom grabbed another one, that same fury in his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you told Miles. “One move and you die.”

“You stupid bitch, I’ll fucking kill you,” he spit. You pressed the blade into his neck a little more.

Tom rushed him, ready to kill him when you held a hand up, stopping him. “No. He lives.” Tom glared up at you, unsure of why you were stopping him. “We take him with us, make him watch and hear everything, and we have some fun.” You gave Tom a wicked smile and he returned it, turning it down onto Miles who was bleeding from where you’d cut him. “Do you know a place?” You asked Tom.

“Yeah.” He glanced once again at Miles, his smile widening. “I know a place.”

You were suddenly at the cabin, waking up in the middle of the night. Not caring if you were dressed or not, you slipped out of Tom’s arms and padded into the main room. You stood there, watching as Miles slept, or if he was awake like he was the night you and Tom had sex, you stood there with a knife, fucking with his head. Would you kill him? Would you not? You made sure to let him know the child you carried was biologically his but he would never see it born. Tom was its father now and he was much more of a man than Miles, as he must have heard earlier. There was even one night where Tom woke up and found you in the kitchen in the dark, holding a knife over your belly, as if you were going to stab yourself. He knocked the knife out of your hand and asked what you were doing. You said it was Miles’ child and you wanted Miles out of you. Tom held your face in his hands and assured you that the child was his and his alone.

“No, it’s not,” you murmured.

“Yes, it is. Listen to me, that’s my little girl inside of you. She’s both of ours. He has nothing to do with it. Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but you love this baby and you love me. You want our family to stay together. You told me that! Please! Don’t let her hurt our baby!”

“It’s our baby?” You asked in a tiny voice.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s ours. Just ours.”

You allowed him to carry you to bed and hold you there, shushing you soothingly and rubbing your belly, using your hands with his.

And then came the night Miles threatened you. This time, you stood over him with the knife.

“You dumb whore, you don’t have it in you to kill me. You won’t even let your crazy boy toy do it.”

“Yeah, because I want to be the one to do it.” A big smile spread across your face and you slashed at his cheek, making him curse.

“Go ahead then! Even if you kill me, you’ll never be rid of me. I’ll always be a part of you, inside you, in that kid. Know that, you stupid bitch. I should’ve fucking killed you when I had the chance!”

You started slicing and then forcefully stabbing and never really stopped. You took pieces off of him (including what could be construed as what he thought was his manhood) and he screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Tom woke up when the screaming started but you didn’t stop. He tried to get you to, telling you he would take care of the rest for you, that he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or the baby, but you told him no, you wanted to do this yourself. You’d earned it. Instead, he stood there, waiting, in case you needed him. He nervously watched as you took Miles apart, his eyes repeatedly flickering to your stomach. At one point, though, you could have sworn you noticed a faint smirk on Tom’s face when Miles screamed particularly loudly and his eyes were hard but proud. Only when you were done, though Miles had been dead for a while by this point, did you turn to go back to the room. Tom stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” You shook your head. “Our baby?” Another shake. He let out a huge sigh of relief. “Why don’t you go take a shower and then get into bed? I’ll clean this up.”

“Thanks, baby,” you’d whispered, gripping his face and lifting up on your toes to kiss him. You left Miles’ blood all over his cheeks but he still looked at you with that same reverence he always had. Once you were out of the shower, he was there to run clean hands over your belly, checking for any injuries but not finding any. You’d smiled and kissed him, not caring about the dried blood on his face when you’d crawled onto his lap and urged him to take off his shirt.

You saw more flashing Images of you in his lap, arching your head up in pleasure, him kissing down the column of your neck, some of the blood from his face transferring onto your skin.

The screams and moans echoed in your ear as you came back to yourself. You felt as if you were losing your balance and you started to fall until Tom caught you in time.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, not looking at him, tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, she alright, man?”

“You need me to call for an ambulance?”

“No,” Tom assured the onlookers. “Thank you but she’s fine. She has low blood sugar and this happens when she forgets to eat. Let me get her back to the car so I can give her a juice box. Thank you but she’s okay.”

He lifted you in his arms, grunting, and slowly began the trek to the truck. “I thought we had a deal, sweetheart. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m not gonna leave you or our little girl behind at a rest stop. Not happening.”

‘Tom, I… I killed them,” you sobbed, staring up at the sky.

He stopped short for a second but then kept moving. “Shhh. Just hang on, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

“I-I-I killed them.” You started to break apart. “I even threatened my baby.”

Tom picked up speed slightly and did his best to get you both back to the truck. Once there and he had you in the passenger seat, you were already hyperventilating. He gripped your face and forced you to meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to get your breathing under control. Let’s slow it down together, okay?” He took your hand and placed it on his chest and he placed a hand on your chest. “Follow me.”

He eventually got you to calm down a little, taking nice deep and even breaths, but it wasn’t enough to make you forget what you had seen, what you had done. You thought back to what you had said to Tom. “I can’t be with someone who just goes around killing people because they can!” “If this is going to work with us, as a family…you can’t kill anymore people, Tom.” You’d blamed him for Cindy’s and Miles’ deaths!

“What do you say we go someplace and have that talk now?”

You nodded, more tears falling down your face at the action. He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs and kissed you before settling you into your seat. Within two minutes, you were back on the road again, his hand in yours, and you stared blankly out the window. You were a killer and Tom, even your own baby — they weren’t safe.

“I’m so sorry, Tom.”

He turned an inquisitive gaze on you.

“I blamed you when it was me.” You wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry.”

You both were sitting at a picnic table in a nice parking area off the shoulder of the highway that he had managed to find. Thankfully, no one was really around. The stars beginning to come out might have something to do with that.

He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, kissing your skin. “I knew why you were saying it. You didn’t remember what you’d done. Truthfully, I didn’t want you to remember it.”

“It’s no excuse,” you choked out. “And my baby…” Your eyes welled up again. “Even she’s not safe with me.”

He cupped your chin with his free hand and turned you to look at him. “Yes, she is. Your ex was the trigger. Now that he’s gone, that lessens the trigger.”

“But what if she looks like him? Or sounds like him? Or what if she does something like Cindy did and says something to trigger me? Or what if like I told you, she cries too loudly or doesn’t put her toys away? She’s not safe.” Your eyes hurt from how much crying you’d been doing, you were surprised there were any tears left, but there were. You cried over Cindy. Sure, you didn’t care for her after overhearing her that day and finding out she’d been with Tom, only teasing you about his supposed crush on you because she never thought he’d give you the time of day and it allowed her to tease and flirt with him as well. But she didn’t deserve to die over it and certainly not like that. You didn’t cry too much over Miles but what you’d done. No human life deserved to be taken the way you had taken his. But you cried the most over what you’d almost done to your baby, what it meant, and how you’d have to let her go once she was born — if she was born.

“Listen to me, I’m going to keep you both safe, okay? Just like I promised.”

“And you,” you sobbed. “Why would you want to be with a murderer? A cold-blooded killer like me? What if I’d killed you? Or what if I do kill you? Tom, what I’ve done is bad enough but if I did something to you, I don’t think I’d ever come back from that. Or if I did something to my baby.”

He pulled you into his arms and you cried against his shirt. He moved in and gently nuzzled you despite the wetness and sniffling. “Because I know what it’s like.”

“What are you talking about, you know what’s like? Fearing going to sleep that you may not wake up from because your significant other might kill you? I know all too well what that’s like and I don’t want that for you.”

His jaw tightened but he shook his head, bumping his nose gently into yours. “No. I mean, I know what it’s like to have a trigger and not remember what I’ve done half the time, while leaving bodies trailing behind me.”

You hiccuped and pulled back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He placed his forehead against yours. “Remember I never wanted to talk about my past?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you said it was too painful and I didn’t want to push.”

Tom let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. But I’m going to tell you everything, even when you don’t want to hear certain parts. I don’t remember a lot but I’ll tell you what I can. And I’m only going to gloss over my trigger, not go into full detail. I’m sure it would be fine, but I don’t want to even risk it. Okay?”

You took in a ragged inhale and buried your fingers into his shirt. “Okay.”

He smiled at you reassuringly and tenderly brushed hair out of your face. “Okay.”

Tom kept an eye on you while you slept, hugging onto his arm. Today was a big day for you in various ways and he wasn’t quite sure if you’d be triggered again.

He’d been completely honest with you, opening up to you about Harry and how trauma led to this other identity he had no control of. Truthfully, he’d been scared to even mention the name, afraid it would draw the other side of him out. During this whole time with you, from him finding you stabbing Cindy to death in your kitchen to now, he’d felt as if Harry was fighting to come to the surface and join in the fray. Of course, that was something the therapists he’d seen had told him wasn’t possible, but even burying Miles’ mutilated corpse and using the pickaxe again felt as if he were approaching a very dangerous line.

At some point after Harmony, he wasn’t quite sure how long, but he was in control again and Harry was nowhere to be found. He had a healing bullet wound as well as other scrapes on his head and face. He knew he could never go back to Harmony or even be Tom Hanniger again (especially after one internet search on a library computer), so he was forced to become someone else: a different Tom. He probably should have changed his first name, too, but he already had another identity waiting in the wings to take over again, he didn’t want another one he needed to worry about becoming, too. Even if it was only for paperwork reasons.

He moved to a new small town, far away from his old life, and began again. He stayed mostly to himself, kept under the radar as much as he could. He was able to find work, doing small odd jobs at first, and then finding work in basically being a handyman of sorts. He had gotten to know the townspeople that way as well as the town itself. He’d even sought help from a local therapist in the next town over whose resume boasted they specialized in DID. There, the therapist was able to help him understand the disorder better than any doctors in the institution had. He learned about triggers, working to reduce switches (as they called it), and how to overall take control of his life in more ways than one. He had been doing much better and there were no instances where he felt like he was missing time or there was something on the edge of his memories that he couldn’t quite remember.

And then he’d met you, completely by accident. He’d bumped into you in the hardware store, literally. You’d dropped what had been in your hands and seeing the slim curve of your stomach, he’d immediately crouched down to pick them up for you. He locked eyes with you and he could swear you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. He cleared his throat when he realized he’d been staring at you a little too long. He immediately apologized for bumping into you and you apologized, too. He noted what you had in your hand: spackle.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you’re not planning on doing any painting, are you?”

You glanced at the container in your hands. “Oh, this? Oh no. I can’t.” You gestured to your stomach. “But I read on a forum online that spackling is okay.”

He arched a brow at you. “Forum online?”

Your cheeks turned adorably pink. “Yeah,” you defended. “As long as it doesn’t have high VOC’s I think it said, I should be fine. Plus, I plan to wear a mask and open all the windows, air it out properly.”

“Uh huh,” he chuckled. At your frown, he held up a placating hand. “Sorry, I just…can’t your husband or boyfriend do that for you? So you don’t have to?”

Your cheeks turned red now. “Are you saying that I can’t do what they can?” You challenged.

“Nope. I’m implying that there are certain things you shouldn’t be doing while pregnant. That’s all.” You went to say something else but he cut you off. “I’m the local handyman, a fixer upper basically. If your other half is too busy, I can swing by and help you out.”

“Oh.”

He handed you his card, noting no ring sitting on your finger. That answered that particular question. “My cell phone number’s on there so call me anytime, day or night, and I’ll come by. Are you new in town?”

You studied his card. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckled and held out a hand. “I’m Tom.”

You took it, smiling, and shook it. “Y/N.” Not only did he suddenly love that name but he loved the feel of your soft skin against his. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You ended up calling him two days later to ask him about the spackling and his rates. Ever since your conversation with him in the store, you couldn’t get what he said out of your head and now you were worried the online forum was wrong. What he didn’t tell you is that he couldn’t get your conversation with him out of his head, but for a whole other reason.

After an agreed rate over the phone (he’d given you a break, calling it the newcomer discount so you wouldn’t question it or feel badly), he stopped by your house and you showed him where you needed the spackling done. There was a large crack in one of the walls of the living room high up. He couldn’t imagine you on a ladder with a mask trying to get this crack spackled — more like he didn’t want to imagine it. Cindy had been there, shooting him flirtatious smiles every time you turned your back, which he ignored. Cindy had been fun a time or two but he wasn’t interested in anything more than that, something he’d already told her long before he met you. Besides, he’d trade twenty of those flirtatious smiles for one of your warm genuine ones anyday. He’d thought you very pretty in the store but now he knew he’d been wrong; you were beautiful. And living all alone in this big, old house. It seemed like a crime to him though he was a little happy that you were single.

He got vibes early on that there was something in your past that you were running from. You were jumpy, slow to trust, and he could tell it took a little bit for you to feel comfortable with him alone in the house. He didn’t push and he appreciated your not pushing either when it came to his own past. But he liked being around you and he definitely liked you. It took some time but you eventually got to know one another and he was helping you slowly restore your home (mostly for free at this point, what he referred to as the friend rate which made you smile and shake your head, still insisting on paying him which he would refuse). You never talked about who the father of your baby was or where he might be, but it was obvious you were going about things on your own. He admired you for that and he loved watching you walk around, lovingly rubbing your bump that was getting bigger each week.

And then, on New Year’s Eve, after circling each other for months, you kissed him. From then on, he was yours. Even when you opened up to him about your past, all he wanted to do was protect you and the baby, be good to you, and be there for you both. He loved you well before he said it, which was after you had said it first because he hadn’t wanted you to feel any pressure whatsoever. Soon enough, you both had started talking about the future — particularly, the very near future. Tom wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a parent or if he’d even be a good one but he knew one thing: he loved you and your little girl very much. He’d do anything for you two and that was good enough for him.

Then came the day Cindy made the fatal mistake of setting you off. He still wasn’t sure if it was what Cindy said in the foyer or if she said something else to you when she came by later, but something caused you to snap. Tom had returned from the hardware store and had been shocked to find you covered in blood, violently stabbing the woman who appeared to already be dead. You weren’t a violent person by nature. You two hardly ever argued and if you did, it was resolved within minutes. He’d never seen you argue with anyone else. Even when you got moody occasionally, sure, he knew to tiptoe around you, but you didn’t even get mean. So he had no idea where the hell this had come from. But before he could get through to you to find out if you and the baby were okay, your piece of shit ex showed up. That had been the first night Tom had felt Harry swimming dangerously close to the surface, waiting to take over. No matter what any therapist said; he knew Harry was there, he could feel him, doing his best to take over though Tom fought it. If Harry took over, he would kill every living being in the room, and that Tom would not allow to happen. Especially not when you and the baby were in the same room.

Tom let you make the call on your ex (even though he didn’t completely understand it) and got you out of there. Later that night, when you passed out, he’d checked you for injuries as well as the baby. He didn’t find any except some shallow cuts to your arms. He gently cleaned them and he was determined to keep a close eye on you. When you finally came to the next day, he’d had no choice but to tie you up much like your ex to wait and see what you would do. He noticed you were you again though you were looking fearfully at him. He hated to see it but he also knew it could only mean one thing: you hadn’t remembered what you did. He didn’t need to be a therapist to realize that you might possibly have the same situation going on that he did. When you accused him of killing Cindy, it confirmed it, though he wondered how you knew she was dead. He chalked it up to you starting to switch back and seeing the carnage before he’d been able to get you out of that house.

So while Tom wasn’t a fan of it, he dangerously walked the line between himself and who he knew Harry to be. Your ex got the worst of Harry’s qualities: the violence, the ruthlessness, and the fury. You got the lower end of a few displeased glares and the raised volume of his voice once or twice. He didn’t know what he was dealing with just yet, though he suspected, and he hoped if he kept you you, even if you were fearful of him, he’d be able to figure out how to help you.

He didn’t agree with keeping Miles alive, especially since Miles was a threat to you and your baby and he had also seen what you’d done to Cindy. It was better to take care of him before he became an even bigger problem. While Tom didn’t relish taking a life, and he didn’t want to wake up Harry, it was clear that Miles needed to go. It was obvious that he was a trigger for you.

While he had been confused at your claims of grogginess, it soon became clear why you were really tired. You’d worried Tom the nights he’d woken up in bed, alone, and found you either hovering over Miles, taunting him, or watching him sleep. You’d even insisted he sit Miles up from where he’d left him in the corner the first night so the asshole could watch and listen. Watch and listen to what Tom hadn’t been sure of but when you told him to make love to you the next night, to be loud while loving you, he got a pretty good idea on what the listen part was. The following morning, he realized you wanted Miles to watch what was happening before his very eyes: you were being well taken care of, you were creating a family, and you were loved. EVen though you didn’t remember it most days, he tried to do right by you — both of you. The other side of you hadn’t told him her name yet, but he was waiting for it. The switches were only too obvious now.

You’d scared the hell out of him, though, the night he found you holding a knife over your stomach. He had already been assuring you that he loved your baby and you, that you would be a family, that your little girl was his. After that, he stepped it up while also hiding all of the sharp objects and anything that could be used as a weapon against yourself (or him) all over the cabin. Each morning, you’d never remember these incidents, though you’d held clear conversations with him and sometimes your ex.

Then you’d brutally killed Miles that night, another night Harry had been simmering on the edge. As he watched you take your revenge, when you kissed him, covering him in blood, then making love to him — that had been the closest Harry had come to breaching the surface since the night Miles showed up in your kitchen. The only thing that kept Harry back, Tom believed, was the recurring thought of you and the baby.

Miles being dead forced him to move up his timeline. He had this cabin for a while, only bringing you once to show you around, in case he had to ever grab you and run if your ex showed up (though he didn’t tell you that because he didn’t want to worry you). That was why he had replicated the nursery down to every single detail. You had worked so hard on that nursery, you were so excited when it was finished, that he hated for you to lose it should you have to run. So he slipped up to the cabin a couple of days a week when you weren’t with him, and worked on getting it set up. He had even stocked the kitchen in case (only buying perishables on your second trip up there when you were truly on the run). He’d also made sure to put a down payment on a small house some ways away in case you both needed a fresh start elsewhere. And that was where he was driving you now.

He’d meant what he said, if you wanted him gone, he would be, but he hoped you’d keep him with you. He was already worried about your breakdown from earlier today and your constant worry for your baby’s safety. Not to mention, your ex had been a cop. While they would most likely never find his body, they would associate his disappearance with you and you would always be sought after. And since Tom had disappeared with you, they’d either think you killed him as well or that he’d helped. So he’d alway be sought after as well. That had been one of the reasons he wanted to get out of Dodge as soon as possible but also, he wanted you as far from your main trigger as possible. And he also wanted to get you help, the same help he’d gotten (though he’d have to find another therapist now). Though he was pretty sure the baby was safe, like he kept assuring you, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion, an official one.

He glanced down at you, his eyes softening as he took you in. He loved you deeply and he wanted to be with you. He loved your baby and he wanted to be there for her, stepping in as her dad if you’d let him like you had both originally planned. You had one more month to go until the baby arrived. He hoped this new house, this new life he was bringing you to made you happy. He was going to set up the nursery again for you and this time you’d have a real living room and dining room. The kitchen wouldn’t be so cramped or outdated and you would have a nice, comfortable mattress to sleep on at night. It may not be what your old house was but he would still make it as nice as possible for you. Once he sorted out your paperwork through an old contact of his, you would have access to doctors, the hospital — whatever you needed. The house had a nice backyard for kids to run and play in and the swingset came with the deal which was nice. Tom had even checked to make sure it was in a good school district and a safe neighborhood.

You moved in your sleep, cuddling his arm more and murmuring something he couldn’t make out. He smiled down at you and leaned over to drop a kiss onto your head before glancing back at the road.

He was going to take care of you. Both of you. And the baby. He would keep you all safe. Just like he’d promised.

#tom hanniger x reader #tom hanniger x female reader #tom hanniger x you #tom hanniger x y/n #tom hanniger #tom hanniger fanfiction #my bloody valentine fanfiction #jensen ackles character

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angrythingstarlight · 4 years ago

Text

Crossing the Last Line

Summary: You were sent to take down notorious Mafia boss, Bucky Barnes. Instead he brought you to your knees.

Pariring: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, language

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Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work.

A/N: Unbeta’d all mistakes are my own and I will fix them later. If enough people are interested, Ill do the back story of reader trying to infiltrate his empire.

The edge of the cold metal chair bites into your thighs, you shift your weight onto your side trying to relieve some of the pressure off your ass. You stare at the two-way mirror knowing that at least three other agents are staring back.

You have to admit they picked a good interrogation room. It’s one you would have chosen. The single light bulb hanging precariously from the ceiling, swaying, creating shadows along the damp walls. They turned on the air conditioning about 20 minutes ago, you can’t decipher what’s worse, the low whine that tapers off before kicking back up or the chill settling over your arms. You won’t let yourself shiver, but the goosebumps on your skin give you away.

The grey table in front of you holds deep scratches, some from pens, others from fingernails. Various dents litter the surface, the indent of a handcuff in the corner. It’s marked with stains that will never come out no matter how much the janitor scrubs it.

You focus on one dark splotch when the door opens. Your colleagues, former by now, walk in. Greg pulls out the chair, a slow grinding scrape on the floor, sitting down with an amiable smile. He rests his hands on the table. So he’s the good cop. Got it.

Samantha hovers over your right shoulder, dropping the case file in front of you, a few photos sliding out of the folder. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her place her manicured hands on her waist. So she's the bad cop, you raise your eyebrows, Sammy should never be the bad cop, she is terrible at it.

You look down at the pictures of you and Bucky, furtively glancing up at Greg through your eyelashes. You see his eyes move over your head and back at Sam. Oh; they are good, but you’re better. Of 'course they would have Sammy play bad cop, you had a soft spot for her and would never take her seriously.

“So, nice weather we're having isn’t it?” you smile up at her, craning your head back.

Her face falters for a second before she recovers. Oh, Sammy, I trained you better than that; you admonish her in your head. And Greg, if you’re going to be the good cop, you have to speak first and you should have walked in with some coffee for me, you think, keeping your expression neutral.

“Look, we can help you, but only if you help us,” Greg implores, reaching out, tapping a black-and-white photo of Bucky spinning you around on his shoulder.

“Bucky Barnes, if you don’t put me down,” you squeal, “I swear I’m going to kill you”

Bucky slaps your ass, his breath fogging in the winter air, “In that case, sweetheart,”. The teasing tone of his deep voice you’re only warning before he tosses you in the snowbank.

Your hands slip in the wet snow, unable to sit. Bucky bends over, his gloved hands on his knees, laughing. You scoop up a handful of snow and nail him in the side of his face. He straightens to his full height, dusting off his coat, smirking down at you, “alright sweetheart,” he says before jumping on you. His massive body blocking out the sun before he pushes down into the snow.

That night he revealed that he knew that you were undercover, you had almost ran when he said he didn’t care. You thought it was trick until he confessed that he loved you. “You love me too dont you?”

He could have had you killed at any point. But he didn’t he risked his empire for you. You would risk everything for him. Bucky’s worth it.

“You know they said it was going to rain but I don’t know,”

Sammy slams her hand on the table, you look at her polished nails; you need to get a manicure. “We know you gave him the information, we’ve been watching you since the trial,”

Oh, yes.

The trial.

That’s currently going on upstairs.

Bucky Barnes vs the State of New York.

“Just tell us what you told him and we will tell Judge Taylor you cooperated,” Her voice breaks a little, you almost feel bad, you were her mentor at one point. She’s trying so hard, “what did you tell him?”

You pick up another photo; they caught his side profile, his dark jacket lapel blown up by the wind, partially obscuring his face, his hair ruffled. He was exiting the jewelers that day. He had your badge melted down and turned into a locket. The one laying on your heart under your shirt.

What did you tell him?

Everything.

Bucky holds your chin between his fingers, glaring at you, “You have two choices, sweetheart, confess now or I fuck your mouth and then I’ll make you talk,”

You don’t say a word, keeping your eyes downcast. You shrug your bare shoulder.

He lifts your chin up, his tongue tracing around your lips, “Oh you want me to fuck your throat, don’t you,” he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into him. “You dirty girl, probably soaking wet for me, aren’t you?”

His filthy words make you gasp. You grab his soft hair, leaning into him, “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”. Looking him in his slate-blue eyes, you drag a finger through your folds and push the glistening digit through his lips. He growls, sucking your slick off slowly.

He pushes you face down over the bed, kicking your legs apart, his rough hands sliding up your ass. You brace yourself for the first smack, laughing “you’ll have to do better than that Barnes”

His silence makes you look back, that arrogant smirk makes you even wetter, he knows it. The first thrust of his cock into your velvety walls makes you both groan. He falls over your body, his hands intertwining with yours.

Each deep stroke making you sob out his name until it’s a chant you can’t stop, Bucky finds your lips, swallowing your moans with a passionate, sloppy kiss.

He grinds you into the bed, changing his angle to find that sweet spot, striking it over and over it again, short, frantic strokes as if he can’t stand to be outside your body for too long.

His chest sliding over your back, heat engulfing you as your pleasure spirals out of control. Bucky feels you cum under him, those wet tight walls clamping down on his veiny cock, your body arching up, making him move with you.

He lets go of your lips, pulling up to grab your hips, your arms flailing over the soaked sheets, gripping them between your hands when he slams into you again. The combination of wet sloshing, skin on skin, and his fucking groans trigger another exquisite orgasm, the waves and waves of pleasure stealing your breath.

You hear your name, rasped out above you, his hips flush against yours as he fills you with his hot cum, the warmth radiating through your body.

You drowsily grin in the sheets, “I think I won that round, weren’t you supposed to be throat fucking me,” you sass.

He scoffs, pulling his cock out of you with a wet plop, watching his cum drip down your thighs. “Oh, sweetheart, that was the warm up, you thought I was done with you?”

“You know I hope it does rain, we need it” You pick up the pictures, placing them back in the file,” just hope it doesn’t freeze over, you know-”

“Stop it” Sammy shouts, slamming her fist down “stop”

Greg sighs, “We are trying to help you,”

The door swings open, hitting the wall with a clank.

You turn your head, beaming at the tall dark hair lawyer standing in the doorway. If he’s here, Bucky’s trial must be over.

“You can start by leaving my client alone,”

“Who are you?”

“Andy Barber,” He states with an air offense, “and you’ve kept my client here well past what’s allowed,”

Dismissing them with a wave of his hand, he gestures for you to follow him, “And we will file a complaint with your supervisors in the morning,”

You push your chair back and step around Sammy, patting her on the back. “You can’t do that she broke laws,”

Andy holds the door open for you.

“Prove it.”

The door slams shut on their incredulous faces.

You exchange glances on the way, when you start to speak, he holds his finger to his lips. He leads you out of the side of the building, pushing open the emergency exit.

The bright sun makes your eyes burn, you cover your face as you blink rapidly, following him down the stairs. You can hear reporters around the corner where the front of the courthouse is.

“He waiting for you,” Andy checks his watch as you bounce on your heels. “And here he is, right on time”

A sleek blacked-out town car pulls up beside you. Andy opens the door, leaning his head inside, “Boss don't’ worry, all the files are being destroyed now, they have nothing on either one of you after today,”

He steps back, motioning for you to get in. You look inside, “Oh baby,” you cry scrambling inside the car. Bucky wraps his arms around, placing needy kisses all over your face, mumbling your name into your skin.

Holding you away, he pants, “did they hurt you because I swear to god I will go back there and burn the place down,”

You cup his face, his stubble rough on your palms, “no baby, I’m okay, are you okay?”

He kisses your palm, “of course, sweetheart”. Bucky stares at you, his passionate love swimming in his sapphire eyes, rubbing his cheek on your hand. He missed your beautiful face and now nothing is going to come between you.

He taps on the partition, “Peter lets go home”

The car pulls out of the alley, away from the building. He rests his chin on your head, his hands caressing your back. A few miles down the road, he casually remarks, “sweetheart, I never did fuck your throat, did I?”

“Love you too, Bucky,” you giggle into his neck.

“I can’t wait to show you just how much I love you,” he purrs, “In fact, let’s get started now,”

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x black reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky x black!reader #bucky x y/n

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raewrites94 · 3 years ago

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Newlywed’s First Bonfire

I posted this on AO3 and thought it would possibly do well on tumblr too. Who knows. *shrug* Edited by me and unbeta’d, so. Mistakes are my own. also, this was inspired by a tiktok, if you want to see where I got the idea from.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Words: 3.4k

Tags: Recreational Drug Use, just absolute fluff, no use of y/n

Summary: As newlyweds, you've just purchased a house and begun doing projects with your husband on your property/house and one night Eddie convinces you to have a bonfire so the two of you enjoy the evening with some weed and dancing.

Rating: T? I don’t think the marijuana use necessitates a mature rating, but lmk if you disagree.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” Your husband Eddie asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You were standing at the stove, cooking dinner for the two of you and you yelped as he quietly snuck up behind you.

“Jesus, Eddie! Warn a girl, why don’t you?” You chuckle. Though you do lean back into his chest and rest your head against the crook of his neck and he presses a kiss to your temple in apology. “Tell me what we should do.”

“We should have a bonfire!” He announces as his lips move to press another kiss to your cheek. “The wind has finally died down and it’s perfect fire weather.” He claimed as he continued to pepper kisses down your cheek to your neck.

You hummed as you thought about it, stirring the pasta as it cooked. “Okay, let’s have a fire.”

“Yes!” He suddenly pulled away from your body and you turned and watched him pump his fist in the air. “I’m gonna go chop some wood before it gets too dark. Call for me when dinner’s ready?” He stepped up to press one last kiss to your cheek and you nodded affirmatively, humming as you turned back to the stove. You listened as the sliding door slid open and shut as he walked outside to the backyard.

As you continued to monitor the food on the stove, you slowly shuffled over to the sink to look out of the big window that was above it. You watched as Eddie danced around the yard, grabbing his ax from the shed before walking over to your pile of wood that you’d gathered together from trees that had fallen on your property. Watching him chop wood had to be one of your top favorite activities. If you weren’t already cooking dinner, he would have invited you out to sit nearby and watch. You were able to watch him chop a few pieces, but then you did have to turn back to the stove to make sure you didn’t overcook the noodles and so you could start making the sauce. Tonight it was chicken alfredo and you did not want to ruin dinner, you were far too hungry to make something else if you got too distracted watching.

Once everything was ready to be put together in the sauce pan, you started to slice the chicken where it was resting on the counter. Then you slowly added the noodles, a little bit of pasta water and stirred everything together, making sure to coat all of the fettuccine with sauce. After it was all incorporated and you turned off the flame, you moved the pan to another burner. Then you walked over to the sliding door, opening it to walk out on the deck, watching as he cut a couple more pieces.

“Dinner is done, my love.” You called out from where you stood leaning over the railing.

“Don’t start without me! I’m coming!” He called back, quickly carting a pile of split wood over to the fire pit before running up to the deck and taking the stairs two at a time. “Come on, baby.” He grinned, reaching out for you and steering you back inside with his hands on your shoulders.

He deposited you at the table, having you sit down and you watched as he quickly washed his hands before stepping up to the stove where you had already laid out two plates. Since you had cooked it was his job to plate so he gave you both heaping portions of pasta before gently laying the grilled chicken on top. He then sprinkled some parsley and grated fresh parmesan over the top before picking up both plates and bringing them to the table.

“Thank you for cooking dinner.” He said as he leaned down and you tilted your head to the side for him to give you a kiss on the cheek. That cheek kiss was practically part of your routine by now. You nodded your head back as your eyes followed his movements to put down your plates. “Anything to drink, wife?” He grinned as he said it. Never tiring of calling you his wife or you calling him husband.

“Water for me, please, husband.” You replied, smiling back.

“Glass of water, coming right up!” He exclaimed, reaching to grab a glass from the cupboard before walking over to the refrigerator and reaching in to pour from the pitcher of filtered water. He repeated the process and then returned to the table with two glasses and set both of them down before finally taking his seat across from you.

The two of you quietly ate dinner together, stopping after a few bites here and there to talk about your plans for the weekend. His next tour with his band didn’t start for a couple more weeks, so you were slowly but surely completing projects around the house and your property before autumn gave way to winter and brought snow with it. This weekend, though, you were hoping to take a break. You were tired of yard work, tired of climbing up ladders over and over as you made repairs to the house and you just wanted to spend some time with your husband.

“We’ll have no plans, then.” Eddie chuckled after listening to you complain about being tired. He was tired, too, admittedly. “I have no arguments about taking a break. In fact, I think I’m the one who always tells you to take breaks and you ignore me.” He pointed an accusing fork at you.

“I’m listening now?” You shrugged, a small embarrassed smile on your face. You knew he was 100% correct in that he was always telling you to take breaks or you’d hurt yourself.

“Even more perfect of a night to have a bonfire, then, hm?” He asked, as he looked back to his plate and scooped another bite before shoveling it in his mouth ungracefully.

“Yes, husband. Great idea.” You rolled your eyes at him, cocky enough to initiate praise for himself and took another bite from your plate as well. When the both of you finished, you stood, bringing your plates and glasses over to the sink for you to wash later. “Go get the fire started, I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes.”

“Aye aye,” He agreed, saluting before pulling open the door and returning to the firepit to get it going. You watched him for a few minutes from the window before crossing the kitchen to get to the fridge, pulling it open and perusing what you could bring out there. You decided to bring a couple of bottles of water and cans of soda, putting them into a small cooler with some ice packs, before closing it and the fridge. Then you grabbed a blanket and the accouterments you’d need to smoke, bringing everything out with you in one trip so you wouldn’t have to go back inside of the house.

“Is my wife under there?” Eddie chuckled, calling out to you from the yard as you walked across the deck and down the steps.

“Ha, ha!” You yelled back. The blanket was haphazardly placed on top of everything, including your head so all he could probably see of you were your legs. You managed to cross the yard without tripping over anything and set your supplies on the ground, then handed him the little pouch you’d brought out with your bowl and a lighter. “Hold please!” You quickly walked over to the garage, opening the door and turning on the light as you looked around for what you needed. “Aha!” You exclaimed as you finally laid eyes on it, walking around your car to get to the double camping chair you’d bought last year for you and Eddie to sit together.

“Ah, yes. Somewhere to sit, good thinking.” He nodded sagely as he watched you walk back over to him through the little illumination the fire provided. “Trade?” He offered, holding out for you to take the pouch back, as he took the chair from you. Then he walked around the fire to find the perfect spot before getting it unfolded. He made a full circle around the pit as he picked up the blanket and the cooler you had brought with and deposited those by the chair as well. “My wife is so smart.” He muttered as he shook his head to himself. He hadn’t even thought of anything else besides having the fire.

“My husband is also very smart.” You spoke lowly into his ear, having walked around the pit and sidled up close to him. You placed a kiss to his jaw, just below his ear and sat down on the chair, fluffing the blanket out across your lap and patted the seat beside you.

Before he joined you, Eddie walked over to his pile of firewood and grabbed a couple of pieces and placed them strategically into the pit. Or at least you assumed he was being strategic about it, you had no idea how to start a fire, that’s why it was his job. A smile started to stretch across your face as you watched him spread his legs and squat down. “Me husband, me love you. Me make fire, ooh ah ah.” He grunted in his best impression of a caveman.

“Get over here, funny man.” You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes. The fire illuminated his face so you could see the soft grin as he walked over and finally sat with a light ‘oof’ onto the chair next to you. After you draped the blanket over his lap as well, you reached down to get a beverage for each of you. “Something to quench your thirst, good sir?” You asked as you turned your head to the side, pushing your hair out of the way so you could see him.

“One coca-cola for me, fair maiden.” He requested. You hummed and nodded your head, turning to look down into the cooler as you grabbed both of you a coke and handed one to him. Then as you sat back, you took the pouch out from under the blanket and opened it, handing him the bowl and the herb you had pre-ground up.

“Would you do the honors, please?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

“As if I could say no to you.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “You got a light? The fire isn’t giving me much.”

“Oh, sure. One sec,” You muttered as you dug into the pocket of your sweatshirt. Or rather it was Eddie’s, you were just wearing it at the moment. Then you turned on the flashlight on your phone and brought it up so he could see better.

“Ah! Let there be light!” He roared out. Then he focused as he packed the bowl, handing you the jar so you put that back in the pouch and tucked it into the chair beside your thigh for now. When you turned back, he was frozen, his eyebrows furrowed as he focused on something else. What he was focused on, you had no idea.

“What?” You asked, looking around to see if there was something missing.

“Is it quiet out here or is it just me?” He asked then, finally turning to you after having figured out what was missing.

“Oh! You are correct. Lemme go turn the speakers on!” You immediately made to jump up, but Eddie pulled you back down by your hips.

“Ah ah! I will do it. Sit back down, lovely wife.” He grinned, kissing you on the cheek before handing you the glass bowl and flipping his side of the blanket over onto your lap as he stood and crossed the yard to the garage, reaching in to flip the light on before stepping inside to turn on the stereo, letting music softly play over the speakers that were mounted outside. “Loud enough!?”

“What!” You yelled back, a big smile on your face as you pretended you couldn’t hear him.

“I said, is it loud enou-! Oh, I see what you’re doing. Very funny!” He chuckled, closing the door behind him before running back to plop back down next to you. “You haven’t even taken a hit yet?” He asked as he looked down at the bowl and lighter in your hand and then back up at you.

“I was waiting for my husband.” You replied, a cheesy grin on your face. “I will never ever tire of calling you that.” You hummed, closing the distance between you to kiss him softly.

“And I will never tire of calling you my wife.” He responded quietly after pulling away briefly, then connected your lips again.

“You want first dibs?” You asked, holding the bowl out to him. “Come on, I know you always say “ladies first”, but you packed it and you made the fire, so you go first.” You added, shoving it closer to him.

“Fine! Twist my arm why don’tcha” He breathed a laugh out through his nose and shook his head before taking it from you and bringing it to his lips. You watched as the flame from the lighter illuminated his face briefly and then he took a deep inhale, holding the bowl between his thumb and pointer finger. Then he handed it to you and you took the next hit, inhaling deeply before coughing and handing it back.

“Fuck,” You grunted out as you continued to cough. Then you cracked open your soda and brought it to your lips, hoping it would help the burn in your throat. It did, but only for a few seconds as it glided down your throat, and then the burn was back. “We need to get some edibles or something.” You groaned, clearing your throat over and over to help the burn subside.

“Sure thing, baby.” Eddie grinned before lighting the bowl again and taking another hit. “Anything for my wife.” He said as he held his breath before tilting his head back to blow it up into the air. Then he held it out to you again so you took it, taking another hit, and this time you managed to not cough. Once it was cashed, he scraped out the contents onto the ground and handed you the bowl and the lighter which you put back into your designated pouch. Then you snuggled up into his side, his arm easily coming up to wrap around your shoulders as the both of you got comfortable.

“You know what we should do?” You asked, suddenly breaking the silence that had stretched between you.

“Do tell.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

“We should get a dog.” You sat up slightly to watch his reaction. He didn’t seem opposed, so that was definitely a start.

“A dog, eh?” He rested his head against the back of the chair as he thought about it. “Already want to start our little family huh?” He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your hair.

“Yeah. Want a big family of dogs and cats. Ooh and chickens!” You excitedly replied, already picturing it.

“Okay, slow your roll, sweet pea. Let’s start with one dog, shall we?” He laughed at your eagerness.

“Hmph.” You pouted as you snuggled back into him. “One dog, then.” You then agreed, after realizing he was saying yes after all, just not saying it to dogs, cats, and chickens.

“Let’s go to the shelter next weekend?” He offered, leaning his cheek against your head as he started to hum to whatever song was playing over the speakers.

“Yeah…” You hummed, grinning to yourself in happiness. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” He replied, squeezing your arm with the hand that was around your shoulder.

“If we get a dog while you’re on tour though, you know it’ll love me the most.” You pointed out after thinking about it.

“Hm… Then we’ll just have to get another dog when I get back!” He suggested, as if that was the obvious solution.

“I think that’s a great idea.” You grinned as you pulled your head off of his chest and arched your neck to place a kiss underneath his jaw.

After sitting there snuggled up for a little while longer, Eddie finally moved to stand up and walked over to his pile of firewood and grabbed a few more pieces to put on. The fire had started to die out and neither of you were ready to call it quits yet. There was nowhere you needed to be, so you could spend hours out here if you wanted to. He was about to sit back down when the song on the radio changed. “Recognize this one?” He asked, grinning as held his hand out for you to take.

“Of course.” You grinned softly as you put your hand in his and allowed him to pull you up. It was the song you’d chosen for your first dance as husband and wife. The wedding was just a few months ago, after all, so how could you forget?

“Dance with me?” He requested, already pulling you into his chest and wrapping his hand around yours and placing the other one on your lower back. You nodded as your other hand went to his shoulder, sliding your fingers under the collar of his flannel and his t-shirt to press against his warm skin and you rested your head against his chest, your ear pressed right over the thump of his heart.

The two of you continued to dance like that, though it was more of a sway. Then you pulled back, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into the contact for a moment before turning his head to press a kiss into your palm. You pulled him down and your lips met in the middle for a kiss. You hummed into his mouth as you parted your lips, letting your tongue poke out and slide along the seam of his lips, asking for entrance. He immediately complied, his tongue coming out to caress yours as you continued to kiss and sway in the light of the fire.

When you pulled away, you laid your head back against his chest and closed your eyes. He continued to sway the two of you, until suddenly you were spinning around. “Getting cold on this side.” He explained before you even had the chance to ask. You nodded your head in agreement, your cheek brushing against the soft flannel. “Should I put more wood on?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah.” You agreed, pulling away and moving to sit back down on the chair as he walked around the pit to the pile again. You watched as he hummed in thought before picking specific pieces and bringing them back over. “Those ones special?” You joked.

“As a matter of fact, yes, they are.” He answered as he carefully reached in to arrange them around the current pieces that were mostly burnt up. “They’re the ones I think look the best.” He chuckled as he walked back over to sit down next to you, placing the blanket back over the both of you as you leaned into his space again. “Thanks for having a fire with me, baby.” He whispered. You reached out and grabbed the hand that wasn’t around your shoulders, holding it in both of yours.

“Anytime.” You said quietly as you rubbed your thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “After these ones are done, you ready to go inside?” You asked as your jaw stretched open in a yawn.

“I suppose.” He answered, feigning exasperation. “Hey, look. It’s the little dipper. Or is that the big dipper?” He tilted his head as he let it fall back, looking up at the sky.

You turned your head to look up, squinting as you searched for what it is he was looking at. “I think that’s the big dipper. The little dipper is over there.” You added, pointing in a different direction up at the sky.

“Oh.” He nodded his head as he turned to look at what you were pointing at. “I can’t see it, but I will take your word for it.” You both continued to look up at the stars as the fire crackled in front of you. “I love seeing the stars from our backyard. Way better than living in the city.”

“Agreed, husband. I’m happy we bought this place.” You smiled, closing your eyes as you turned your head back to face the fire, letting it warm up your skin.

“Me too.” He said quietly, placing a kiss to your hair as you watched the fire continue to burn.

#stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic

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wayward-river · 3 years ago

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Sick For New Years

AN: This was requested by the lovely @heytherejulietx, hope you like it! This is unbeta’d so all mistakes are my own, I don’t own any of the riverdale characters this is a work of fiction!

Enjoy!

You laid in your bed listening to the fireworks go off around you, you should be out celebrating with your friends but you were stuck at home feeling miserable. Tissues were scattered around the floor too weak to throw them in the trash. All you did was sleep and blow your nose, thank God the puking stopped early.

You had all but sent Sweet Pea away the moment you felt off not letting him come over and help you. He had sent text messages and called and left voicemails. You tried to respond as best as you could but the light from the screen made you want to pop your eyeballs out with a spoon. So it sat and vibrated.

You were sure these fireworks of celebrating the new year were going to be the death of you until you heard your front door. You might as well just let whoever it was murder you, you had no strength to fight them off. Maybe they would rummage through the house, find the cash jar in your cupboard and leave. That was until you heard your bedroom door open. You slowly lifted yourself up just enough to see Sweet Pea.

Dramatically you fell back into the bed with a groan. “I told you to stay away from me.”

Sweet Pea let out a small laugh as he picked up the discarded tissues scattered around and threw them into the small trash can he had brought from his place. “Like a cold is going to keep me away from you.”

“You are going to get sick and then you’ll hate me.” You all but pouted, hoping that would get him to leave.

“Hate you? The love of my life? The sweetest thing that has ever graced my presence? Y/N/N you are trippin.”

You weakly threw a pillow at him.

“I brought you cold medicine and a new box of tissues.” he paused as he kissed your forehead. “And soup.”

“Fangs’ homemade soup?”

“Would I bring anything else?”

Sweet Pea got comfortable next to you as he pulled you into his arms, and handed you the canteen of soup.

You sighed in content and the smell and warmth coming from the small tin.

“I love you”

“I love Fangs” You replied with a small laugh. Sweet Pea started to move away. “I’m kidding baby, I love you too, here’s to another year together.”

“Happy New Years Y/N/N.”

Forevers: @whenallsaidanddone @lover2448 @theflameofdeath

#sweet pea x reader #riverdale x reader #sweet pea imagine #riverdale imagine #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea x you

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awkward-and-indecisive · 4 years ago

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The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

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