#and how he asked john for a description of the baby before letting her go

[polygones]

malevoversary day 1: wraith / loss

[ID: An artwork of Arthur Lester from Malevolent holding a baby. A translucent wraith wraps its cloth arms around Arthur's. The piece is done in blue-green tones and there are 3 stylised stars in the background with a white border framing the image. End ID.]

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 20 / epilogue)

masterlist

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Black trees against a yellow sky at evening time. 

It’s late when you finally reach home. Dark enough to almost be night—a full day longer to return than it took to leave, but then you hadn’t ridden as hard coming back, too sore and sleep-deprived to manage the same pace. Even the meager sleep you got on the road was hardly sufficient.

Then the shape of your house appears on the horizon and you nearly break down in tears. The sight of it fills you with such relief that you nearly lose your balance, your head slumping forward. Too long. Days that felt like weeks, your body and mind weary from the long trek home. Against the gold of the horizon light, it appears like a boat arriving at port. 

You throw yourself off your horse and to the ground before John has even had a chance himself to dismount and come help you down. He stomps over when your foot nearly catches in the stirrup, nostrils flared and mustache twitching with his scowl. 

“Don’t go breaking your leg before I’ve even gotten you home,” he growls when he reaches you, fitting his hand around the nape of your neck and giving it a squeeze. You’d shiver, but your body is too exhausted for your libido to manage more than a half-hearted twitch. Instead you nod, head bobbing like a baby doll. 

John takes the horses to the stables while you clamber up the stairs on wobbly legs, headed straight for your bedroom, passing out the second your head touches the pillow. Your growling stomach will have to be addressed in the morning.

You aren’t conscious for when John comes up to join you, but you swear even in sleep you can sense his presence in the room. Certainly when he curls himself around you, the wall of warmth at your back briefly making your eyes flicker open before sleep claims you again and they slide shut. 

In the morning, you eat a big breakfast before letting John rub a liniment onto your inner thighs and bandage the cuts on your hands and face. The doctor he takes you to see after breakfast for the shoulder that Graves dislocated prescribes bed rest and light stretching for recovery and laudanum for any lingering pain. 

“What did you tell him?” you ask when the two of you head out for a light lunch in town before heading back home. 

“Told him you fell off a horse.” He shrugs. “Not that uncommon around here.”

All you can do is roll your eyes. 

Still, it’s as good an excuse as any. No one questions your story when you tell it to them over the following days, when your shoulder is still too tender for you to move it too vigorously. Only Kate lifts a brow knowingly, all but cornering you for the real story when you finally get a moment alone. 

“That sonuvabitch,” she hisses when you finally break and tell her what happened. 

“It’s fine,” you insist, shushing her. “John… Well, John handled it.”

She nods approvingly, then looks like she might say more before thinking the better of it. Silence falls between the two of you. 

“He—” you pause in the middle of your sentence, unsure of how exactly to say it. “It wasn’t so bad. Telling him, I mean.”

Kate must catch the slight inflection in your voice because she stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. “…I’m happy to hear that.”

You inhale as if gathering your breath to say more, but nothing comes out. You know what it is you want to say, but it’s getting it out that’s the tricky bit. What you want to tell her is that your trust wasn’t misplaced in the end; all of your fears that the truth would shatter the affection and trust that had finally been shown to you after a lifetime of nothing were unfounded, proven ultimately wrong. 

“Was there something else you wanted to add?”

You chew your lower lip. 

“No. Nothing else,” you say in the end. There’ll be a time someday to tell her that her trust wouldn’t be misplaced with John or Kyle either; perhaps that day will come sooner than you expect, but for now it remains on the distant horizon. It’s not your place to lecture or admonish; your place in her life is to offer the same feeling of security and companionship as she’s offered you.  

Today, you loop your arm through hers and join her for lunch. 

In town, people greet you like you never left. Only one person asks you about the man you were walking with the previous day, and Kate covers for you when you stumble over your answer, throat constricting in your panic. There’s no suspicion in the question, but still you anticipate it because life has conditioned you to expect pain as a response to any action or inaction. 

You are surprised when pain doesn’t come this time. But still, you are wary.

When you get home, John fills the tub with hot water for you and lets you wash up on your own while he tends to the horses, the third now unofficially his. You lean your arms over the side of the tub and drift in and out of your daydreams, ears attuned only to the sound of his voice and the owls calling from the trees just beyond the house. Eyes fluttering shut until slipping deeper into the water kicks you back into wakefulness. 

“You falling asleep in there?” he asks when he stomps back inside, the door slamming shut behind him and nearly giving you a heart attack. 

“No,” you deny, discreetly wiping the rheum from the inner corners of your eyes. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Of course,” he snorts. Amused as ever by seemingly anything that comes out of your mouth.

A telegram comes in to the sheriff's office some weeks later asking about a missing bounty hunter, and though you pitch forward in your chair when John tells you this, he’s quick to remind you that as far as anyone else knows, Graves moved on after his first visit a month or so back. 

It takes time to reassure you, but slowly your hands unclench from the edge of your seat. 

Still, you make yourself scarce for a week after that. It takes some time for you to feel safe again. You spend those first few days after hearing about the telegram constantly looking over your shoulder, plagued by the worry that you’ll be found out. Sharing your worries with John doesn’t go a long way towards alleviating them because his confidence never wavers. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Would it kill you to just pretend?” you huff, cracking an egg into the skillet. 

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for him here. ‘Far as anyone knows, he made his way west a long time ago,” he says, dismissing your concerns while clipping his fingernails at the kitchen table. You scrunch up your nose when you glance over your shoulder.

“You better not think I’m sweeping those up.”

He barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head at the same time. 

True to his word, the front door stays shut. No one comes knocking looking for an errant bounty hunter. Perhaps that is a lesson that you can take away from all of this—that there is no reward for isolating oneself. Your safety has only ever been assured in community, in putting your trust in others and safeguarding their secrets in turn. Only love has ever held out its arms for you to fall into. 

And now the days pass like clouds in the sky. 

Tranquility hovers on the periphery of your life with every intention of calling out your name. It’s waiting for you with open arms. 

In the evenings, John takes you upstairs to the bedroom and pries you open enough to fit himself in. His mouth blazes a trail across your body, sucking your nipples until they’re beaded, wetting his beard with the essence of your pleasure, and bringing you to the brink of completion time and again before pushing you over. 

After a while, he leaves a piece of himself behind. 

Weeks pass and the seasons change. The changes you notice in your body are physical as well as emotional. At some point since coming home, you must have started to unwind. Shoulders loosening up, knots melting down your back. Is it just you, or does the air smell fresher too? 

You pin the laundry up on the clothesline and wait for your husband to come home. The sun sets earlier these days with autumn just around the corner. Already the leaves have begun to redden and brown, some breaking off from the branches altogether and floating to the ground where you know eventually they’ll rot and dissolve into the earth, starting the cycle of death and rebirth all over again. 

Winter is fast approaching and you know this one will be tough with a little one on the way. You’ve already started preparing for the winter months—canning and storing corn and potatoes and other root vegetables harvested from your garden, making preserves from the fruits of autumn—apples and pears sealed in jars of thick syrup—and filling the cellar with barrels of salted and cured meats. In town, you visit the seamstress for clothes of thicker material and leave with an armful of wool flannel petticoats, fur-trimmed bonnets, and corsets of a heavier cotton coutil. 

You rest a hand on your belly as you stare off into the distant mountains. Even the sky darkens earlier these days. When all of the laundry is pinned on the line, you pick up the wicker basket resting by your feet and bring it back inside, shuffling into the kitchen to get started on supper. 

There’s still much that needs to be done before winter arrives. Firewood to be chopped, furs and blankets to be hung on the walls, the fireplace to be swept, and more. Enough to keep you busy and your mind occupied when you aren’t bent over a book because that’s also your reality these days. The librarian in town now knows you by name and knows to set aside a few books a week for you to pick up when you pass by with Kate. 

You don’t think much of the knock at the door at first, absent-mindedly thinking that it must be a neighbor come to visit. Only when you open the door to an unfamiliar face do you pause. 

It’s a woman, not too dissimilar in looks from you. A bit taller, but otherwise if someone were to describe you from looks alone, they might be tempted to use the same words for either of you. She stands on your porch with a suitcase held by her side, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead from the short trip from town. She dabs her forehead lightly with a handkerchief before pocketing it again.

“Hello there,” she greets, a bright smile on her face. “I’m looking for John Price. I was told he lives here?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her nonplussed, not understanding why a strange woman might be at your door asking for your husband in such a familiar way. It takes a moment for it to sink in. Then the light goes on and your confusion shifts to disbelief with a twinge of rage. 

“We’re engaged to be married,” the other woman hurries to explain, taking a step closer, foot wedged in the door almost as if intending to barge right in. 

Her gall nearly makes you lose your temper. Months ago, you might’ve welcomed her arrival, eager to prove to John that you weren’t the woman that he mistook you for so that you could be on your merry way. But that time has long since passed. There isn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than here. You’ve put roots down, entrenched yourself in every way.

Your lips pull into a hard line, face set in stone. “You must be mistaken. He’s already married.”

She blinks, uncomprehending. “That’s…—are you sure? We’ve been corresponding. I know I’m a few months late, but I was held up back in—”

You cut her off by sticking out your hand, topaz ring shining bright on your third finger. “I’m sure. But thank you for stopping by; I’ll let John know you send your apologies.”

And with that, you shove her foot out with yours and shut the door on her face. On another day, you’ll allow yourself to feel guilty for your rudeness; for now, this is your happy ending to enjoy. 

And savor it, you will.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Enemies (Part Five) (Rafe Cameron)

Description: Based off Episode 10!

Word Count: 2,004

Author’s note: Whenever season 5 comes out is when I’ll continue this.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Y/N sat with her friends around the fire as they had hope that they would turn up to shore. Though Y/N wasn’t so sure. She saw the waves take them, How could they survive? She had been crying for so long that her eyes hurt and she needed sleep. She got up from the pogues and made her way to Rafe who sat by himself. He looked over at her as she came over.

She gave him a small smile they both knew was fake. He opened his arms and she collapsed in them. She groaned against his shirt as she was already falling asleep. He kissed her forehead as she drifted off. 

When she woke it was daylight and the others were awake. Rafe was still holding her and he looked down at her eyes as she opened them. “You stink.” Was the first thing she said and he gave her a sarcastic laugh, “Like you don’t?” He asked. She definitely did.

They all did. She laid in his arms for a few more minutes before walking over to the others. “They have to be around here, there’s no way.” But Y/N didn’t believe that. She accepted in her mind that she lost 2 friends. JJ and Sarah. JJ was a troublemaker and very reckless but she loved him. He was always after trouble and sure that was annoying but he was the best.

Sarah was smart and so beautiful. She accepted people and not based on what they were. Kook or Pogue. She was awesome and her best friend. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about them.  John B saw two people and he got the group's attention. Everyone gasped as they saw two people who from a distance looked like Sarah and JJ. “I’ll go check.” “I’ll come with.” Y/N said and they walked to see.

John B’s eyes lit up when he saw them and Y/N let out a sigh of relief. Sarah ran up to hug him and JJ gave Y/N a hug. “I thought you were dead.” She whispered. “I’m immortal.” He joked. They switched and Y/N hugged Sarah.

Rafe looked happy to see that she was alive. They all sat around the fire well sorta. Rafe was on the same side but facing the other way as the others talked. Y/N was holding his arm as they laughed.

“You know what would be a good baby name?” JJ asked. Y/N looked at Rafe confused. “JJ what?” She asked. Sarah was pregnant. “Sarah, you’re pregnant?” Y/N jumped up from the ground. Sarah nodded and Y/N ran over to hug her. “Congratulations!” She said. 

Getting separated from the others was not ideal but she wasn’t about to let Rafe get arrested. For once he didn’t do anything. “Are you okay?” She asked, grabbing his hand. He nodded and started walking the other way of where the pogues went.

“We are finding Groff.” He told her. “What about them?” She asked. “We’ll see them.” Though she was nervous that wouldn’t be the case. Groff wasn’t easy to find but she thought she would find herself stepping on the top of buildings and houses in a foreign country for anyone. Rafe and her had on “disguises” which were just fancy coats.

She felt rich with it thanks to Rafe. Y/N gasps as she sees the dude that was trying to kill her and her friends. She and Rafe had behind a sheet for a second until Rafe threw a punch at the guy. Groff notices him and Y/N could tell that he was nervous. He truly had no idea who he messed with. Y/N couldn’t help but feel super hot seeing Rafe beat the piss out the guy. “Let’s go.” He calls her and takes Groff. 

“You’re lying to me.” Rafe yells at him as he confronts him about the money. Y/N just watches and wishes she had some popcorn. Groff kept looking over at her. “Who’s this?” Groff asked and Rafe scuffed. He ignored the question and kept yelling at him.

Groff didn’t have the money. Though that wasn’t the surprising part. The surprising part was that Sophia (Rafe’s cousin) set him up. Sophia was staying at his place while he was gone and when he and Y/N came back he planned to buy her her own house.

That was no longer on the table and Rafe was pissed. Groff was being very cocky for someone who was about to fall. Literally in a well. Rafe was laughing like a maniac. Y/N leaned over the well and even chuckled herself. “You messed with the wrong guy.” She yelled to Groff. “You tell him baby.” Rafe laughed.

“Let’s get out of here.” He says as Groff is yelling his name. He had the map to the crown now and all they had to do was get it the pogues or at least that’s what Y/N thought was going to happen. “What are we doing?” She asked as Rafe opened the map. “We are finding the treasure.” He tells her. She glares at him, “Rafe, we have to get this map to my friends. You didn’t care about the treasure.” She points out.

He chuckles and looks at her, “yeah well my money is gone sweetheart. You are your friends can get a part of the money.” She wanted to take the map and run but realized what kind of man Rafe was and knew that wasn’t a good idea. “Rafe.” She warned. “I need you to help me read the map.” He tells her, ignoring her obvious anger towards him.

“Promise me that you aren’t going to take it and run.” She growls. He looks at her, “I promise you that you and your friends will get your part.” He says. She looks at him. Though they’ve had fun together these past few days, she’s well aware of what he is capable of. “If you’re lying to me and you take the money and run, you can kiss my ass goodbye and I’ll make sure to hunt you down.” He thinks he just fell in love with her.

They walked through the sand holding hands as she wore the pendant. He holds the map as the walks to the location. “Rafe.” She said and they look over to see a sand storm starting. “Holy fuck.” “We gotta move fast.” They didn’t get a chance to as they ended up being held at gunpoint. Y/N felt her stomach turn as she realized that there wasn’t a way out of this. They were fucked.

“That’s my brother and my best friend.” Sarah said and took the shot. Y/N screamed and Rafe took her hand and ran. The others followed. Rafe was about to shut the door before they all screamed at him to wait. Y/N laughed as she saw her friends. “You’re okay.” She breathed out and hugged Sarah. “Thank you for saving us.” She said. Rafe refused to give the map over.

“Rafe.” Y/N sternly said his name. “You’re gonna betray me just like everyone else in my life has.” He said to Sarah. Y/N saw him tear up. “Rafe no we won’t.” Y/N tried but he stepped away from her. Her jaw dropped. “Rafe…” “Dad would want us to work together.” Sarah said to him. Rafe always thought that Sarah got him killed but she finally told him. “It’s true Rafe. I was there.” Y/N told him, she had tears in her eyes. Sarah did as well.

“Rafe, I'm not going to betray you. Sarah isn’t either.” She walked up to him and cupped his face. “Rafe, I love you. You can trust me. I promise. And you trust Sarah too.” Rafe looked at her with tears streaming down his face. Sarah hugged him and he looked down lost in thought.

The look in his eyes was heartbreaking. “This is nice but we have to go.” Kie said. Rafe gives John B the map and Y/N takes the pendant and helps them. Rafe wasn’t any help other than complaining. “Heaven.” John B said as the other three paced trying to think. “John B hold up the map to the sky.” It was like they shared the idea. He did and she gasped. “Guys look.” He said and they all stared at the map. “What is that?” Rafe asked.

It was like luck was in their hands and they were near the crown. Y/N gasped. The crown was somewhere in the sand statue. They all ran as the same storm got worse. “You guys go back.” Kie said to John B and Sarah. Y/N watched as they ran away. Rafe pulled her along.

The storm was bad. JJ decided he would be the one to get the crown. Y/N gasped as the other people trying to get the crown started shooting at JJ. “I’ll go stop them.” Rafe said. “No.” Y/N grabbed him. “I can’t lose you.” “You won’t. I’ll be back. I love you.” He tells her. “Rafe, they will kill you.” Kie says. “I’m a killer too.” He said and ran off. Y/N was so nervous watching JJ and thinking about Rafe. Her and Kie yelling at JJ to hurry up.

JJ was screaming and yelling about the crown and hoped down to the girls. “Look.” He said and showed them. Kie and Y/N looked at each other and gasped. They had it. 

Y/N ran ahead of them to find Rafe. She yelled his name in hopes that he would hear and that he wasn’t hurt or dead. “Y/N.” He yelled back and she turned and gasped. He was okay! “You’re okay!” She said and he picked her up and kissed her. She smiled against his lips. Tears in her eyes. “I told you I would be.” He said. “I love you so much Rafe Cameron.” She said and nudged his nose with hers.

He set her down and kissed her again. “I need to ask you something.” He said and she nodded. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone and I haven’t been through half the shit we just went through with anyone.” She smiled at his words. He sank to one knee and her smile dropped as her jaw did. “I know this is crazy but so was everything we just went through so I need to know.” He pulled out a ring. Y/N felt tears in her eyes. “It’s my mothers ring.” He states. “Will you marry me?” She let out a sob and nodded.

“Yes.” She said and slid the ring on her finger. He stood up and kissed her. “I love you too Y/N Y/L/N.” He said. “We have to find the others.” She said and the ran in the way she came. Y/N felt so happy about everything. They got the crown and she was engaged to Rafe Cameron. The man she thought she would never fall for. Life was good.

She saw everyone crouched around something. Shoulders shaking. They walked over and she gasped. JJ. “No.” She said and got on the ground next to him. He wasn’t breathing. Tears streaming down her eyes and sobs racked through her body. Rafe fell to the ground to hold her. JJ Maybank, one of her best friends, was dead. 

Y/N watched as Rafe buried him. She couldn’t believe it. Everything was great for like 5 minutes. The crown was gone and so was JJ. Everyone sat around the fire, tears in their eyes as Rafe paced. “If that was my best friend, I would be out for blood.” Rafe said. “JJ wouldn’t sit here and sulk. He’d want to kill Groff.” Y/N said.

Sarah and Kie agreed. Rafe came and sat next to Y/N. He looked over at her and saw that look in her eyes. He knew it all too well. He, himself, has had that look in his eyes. It was the look of blood, the need and urge to kill. “Revenge.” Kie said. “For JJ.” Y/N growled.

[moody-alcoholic]

Protection

MDNI +18 content

AN: Smut is back baby! It feels like it’s been a while, I stuffed this chapter with smut, like almost every part. I couldn't stop I must be ovulating or something.

I have done the outline for the end of the series it's officially been written out. Here is a sneak peak, it's very unlikely to change but if anything there may be an additional chapter.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. 4.1k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: MDNI +18 content Sex, PIV sex, Oral (M receiving x2), tiniest little bit of Mdom & Msub (I have no self control), threesome, fingering, multiple orgasms.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy ya filthy animals <3

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Johnny asks Simon his head on Simon’s thighs looking up at the ceiling. 

“Will it make you feel better?” Simon asked, looking down at him. 

“I don’t know,” he says sighing. 

“What’s the worse that could happen?” Simon asks. 

“She could hurt herself.” Johnny replies, Simon nods running his fingers through Johnny’s hair.

“She could get hurt anyway, worse if she has no way of defending herself.” Simon says. Johnny know’s he’s right but the thought of giving you a gun still made him nervous.

“Do you really think she’s in danger?” Johnny asks thinking back to the intel they sent to Laswell.  

“I think if Laswell’s preliminary findings are right we’re going to have bigger things to worry about.” Simon sighs. He looks down at Johnny, he knows Johnny is worried Simon is too but they have a job to do and that means he has to push his feelings aside. His feelings for Johnny for you. There is less to worry about as Ghost, just focusing on the mission that’s all that matters. 

“You’re stressed.” Johnny says pulling Simon out his head. Simon sighs, he could really use a cigarette. Johnny sits up taking his head off Simon’s thighs and moves so they’re face to face. Johnny leans in and kisses him his hand working down Simon’s chest to his stomach to his pants. Simon pulls back.

“She’s sleeping.” Simon says, quickly looking back towards the bedroom door. They had left it ajar in case you woke screaming again. Johnny pulls Simon’s face back to him. 

“I owe you for Syria, ‘member?” Johnny says planting his lips back on Simon before he can protest. He slips his hand under Simon’s sweatpants, rubbing Simon’s bulge over his boxers. Simon breaks away again.

“You know that’s not how this works?” He says, but he’s already leaning back on the sofa. Johnny smiles, he reaches down pulling Simon’s cock out, Johnny’s mouth is watering, it’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to pleasure Simon. Johnny’s hands are gentle but firm as he works pressing his thumb into the underside, the way he knows Simon likes it. Johnny is getting more eager as Simon’s hand finds it’s way up the back of Johnny’s shirt. His head tipping back on the sofa closing his eyes, the stress slowly being washed away if only for a few moments.

Johnny doesn’t wait any longer locking his lips round Simon’s cock and thrusting his head all the way down. Simon runs his other hand through Johnny’s mohawk, he really needs a hair cut. Simon moans, Johnny starts slow wanting to take his time. He can already feel Simon’s grip on his hair pushing his head becoming more needy. Johnny is stronger though forcing Simon to accept the fact he want’s to take his time. The longer he can ride this out the less stressed Simon will be. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can get Simon to sleep for more then a few hours at a time.

Simon’s moan’s are making Johnny’s own cock twitch in his pants and before he’s even realised it he’s giving into Simon’s control letting him bob his head up and down. Johnny’s name leaving Simon’s mouth, it’s like music to his ears. Johnny forces his mouth to take Simon all the way, feeling him starting to twitch, he most be close it makes Johnny smile as he blinks away the tears.

Simon is panting gripping Johnny’s hair tighter as he forces him all the way down hitting the back of Johnny’s throat as he cums. He can’t breathe but he waits until Simon’s finished panting and his hand has left his head before sitting up and swallowing. He smiles at Simon then steps up off the sofa.

“C'mon, lets go to bed.” Johnny says reaching his hand out. Simon doesn’t say anything tucking his cock back in his pants and accepting Johnny’s hand. 

“Feel better?” Johnny whispers as his arm slips round Simon’s waist. 

“Yeah, needed that.” Simon says. Johnny smiles.

“I know ye did.” They slip into the bedroom you’re sleeping on Simon’s side Johnny gets in under the sheets as Simon gently moves you into Johnny’s arms. You murmur something incoherent as Johnny shushes you and kisses you on the top of your head. Simon scoots up behind you his hand stroking Johnny’s cheek. 

“I love you Johnny.” Simon says as quiet as possible, he see’s Johnny smiling in the dark.

“I love you too Si.”    

——————————  

You leave early the next morning, you’re not convinced Simon and Johnny slept. You don’t remember them coming to bed and they were awake before you. At least there were no nightmares. Simon was driving this time, Johnny was in the back with you. It felt strange going onto the base in civilian clothing, you said you wouldn’t mind going home to change but Simon said it wasn’t a big deal. When you get to the shooting range you feel nervous all of a sudden. Simon goes into the back as Johnny leads you inside. The place is empty, guess there was a reason for coming here so early. 

“You really haven’t shot a weapon since basic?” Johnny asks as he uses his key-card to open the cage into the shooting pit. 

“Okay maybe like a year after basic I did a refresher test, but I’m an army nurse we very rarely see combat.” You explain. You’re mostly stationed in the UK and when you are shipped abroad it’s most likely to a massive functional hospital, where the biggest threat is misunderstanding the staff. You go over to the wall of ear-defenders with Johnny picking up a pair you hope will fit. They do and you let them drop round your neck, as Simon walks in with the gun case. He places it in one of the booths and clicks it open then steps back. 

“You already know the basics, lets see what your aims like.” Simon says as he crosses his arms coming up behind you while Johnny slips into the booth next to yours. You put the ear-defenders on and adjust the pulley system so the target is a little closer to you then pick the pistol up. It feels cold in your hand’s, not something you’re used to but you load it and pull chamber back so there is a round in there.

You stand so you’re comfortable feeling Simon close behind you he’s almost breathing down your neck. You try to remember your training. You bring the pistol up to your eye line looking at the target. You take a breath in once you’re happy with your placement you click the safety off. You take a shot. You hit the target but not on the body, the recoil was stronger then you were expecting so you adjust your position and grip a little more and fire again. This time it’s better you hit the chest, that’s exactly what you need. You’re not going for head shots just accurate shots. You fire off a few more rounds, making sure you can keep them on the body at least. You put the safety back on satisfied, and put the weapon down. 

“What do you think.” You turn to Simon impressed. He nods. 

“Not bad,” he says, you look at him and roll your eyes.

“Not bad that’s the first time I’ve shot in like 2 years, those are some pretty tight shots.” You protest. You hear Johnny laughing as he sticks his head round the booth. 

“I reckon, you’ve got Ghost beat there lass.” He says looking up at Simon and winking. Simon huffs. He reaches over and picks up the pistol going into another booth. They’re winding each-other up again. Johnny joins you in your booth as you hear Simon checking the mag then firing off shots.

You can’t see the target from here it’s all the way at the end and Johnny’s hand has found it’s way up the back of your top stroking the small of your back. Simon stops firing and activates the pulley system so his target skids to a halt a few feet from the booth. His shots are perfect of course, you had no doubt in him. Johnny chuckles again and you both leave the booth. Simon hands the pistol to Johnny. 

“Same or better, if not I’ll be having words with Price about running you through some extra training.” Johnny’s smile vanishes. Now you can’t help but laugh. 

“That’s no fair.” Johnny protests, Simon shrugs going back to cross his arms. You lean up against Simon as Johnny takes his time replacing the target and sending it back. Johnny is muttering under his breath as he changes the mag and stands up ready to shoot. He fires off the shots adjusting his footing every now and then. When hes done he unloads the pistol and steps back, crossing his arms with a cheeky grin on his face.

You smile at him craning your neck to try and get a better look. As Simon brings the target up and you can see the shots are pretty much the same, or at least from what you remember. Simon nods turning to look at him as he picks the pistol up.

“See Soap you’re not entirely useless after all.” Simon chuckles, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean.” Johnny says following after him as he goes to put the pistol away. You smile while you watch them bicker, most of the time Simon just laughs. Whenever Johnny says anything remotely funny he looks back at you and winks. 

“C’mon let’s get out of here before someone shows up with a bunch of recruits and we have to put them to shame.” Johnny says wrapping his arm round your shoulders.      

——————————

On the way home you’re horny, you don’t know why. It probably had something to do with the fact that you and Simon spent the drive home making out while Johnny tested the breaks. Chuckling every-time you were broken away from the kiss. They really do like to wind each other up.

By the time you make it back to the flat you’ve already decided you want Simon to fuck you. No one complains especially not Simon as you all make it to the bedroom practically falling on top of each other.

You strip naked and lay down in the bed Simon’s stood between your legs, Johnny laid next to you. He’s kissing you his hand running up and down your belly, every now and then his fingers brush your nipples and it sends electricity down your body. Johnny breaks away from the kiss stroking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, you don’t know why that makes you blush but it does. You look up at Simon who’s finally finished striping, and is stood there stroking his cock. 

“How do you want to do this?” You ask. Simon thinks for a second looking at Johnny. 

“Think you could handle both of us at once?” Simon asks with a cheeky grin on his face. You nod, although you’re not quite sure what that means. 

“Johnny sit up against the headboard, you get on your hands and knees.” He says instructing you both around. Johnny shuffles up the bed as you turn over crawling away as Simon also gets on the bed. You think you know where this is going and move so you’re crouched in front of Johnny. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Simon says gripping your hips and moving you in place. You look up at Johnny smiling. He’s got that cheeky grin on his face, he moves down the bed enough that his hips are aliened with your face. Simon’s hand is rubbing your clit in little circles you’re already getting distracted, your hands finding their way to grab Johnny’s cock which is easier said then done since you’re using your elbows to support you.

Simon slips a finger into you and dip your head as you let out a breath. You can’t wait any longer locking your lips round Johnny, who moans in response his head tipping back into the pillows. You hear Simon chuckle as he inserts another finger. You moan round Johnny's cock thrusting your mouth all the way down to the base. He hits the back of your throat and saliva fills your mouth. Good that makes things easier. Simon’s fingers are rubbing round your clit you can’t help but clench round him. It just makes him chuckle again as he takes his fingers out rubbing your entrance. You feel his fingers replaced with the tip of his cock, you hold your breath slowing your movements. 

“You okay?” Simon asks. You take your mouth off Johnny despite his wine of protest.

“Yeah,” you say, not realising how out of breath you sound. Simon pushes his tip in before you can say anything making you gasp your hands squeezing Johnnys waist. He doesn't stop as he continues to push in as you involuntarily squeeze around him. You knew he was going to be bigger but you didn’t think it would feel so different. You moan as you reach back over to Johnny’s cock desperate for it to be in your mouth again. You hear Simon moaning behind you as he starts thrusting in and out. His hands gripping your waist you can feel his fingers digging into you. Your eyes start to water and you blink the tears away looking over at Johnny with his head back in the pillows.

“You look good down there Johnny.” Simon says, you can’t help smiling. 

“You should see the view from ‘ere.” Johnny replies popping his head up and winking at you. You match your speed with Simon’s thrusts. Now your body is used to him inside you he speeds up, each time it feels like he’s going deeper and deeper. You want to moan, pant but you’re too busy with Johnny you can’t. Each moan you let out makes Johnny twitch in your mouth as his hand finds your head running his fingers through your hair. 

“You feel amazing,” Simon says between thrusts getting faster, deeper, you almost can’t keep up. Johnny’s started squirming you grip his hips to try and stop him. A fruitless task he’s way stronger then you. 

“Oh love you’re too fucking perfect.” He says, his voice strained, gripping your hair tighter. 

“Don’t you fucking dare come till she’s ready Johnny.” Simon says, his voice commanding, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. 

“Aye sir, ‘cause not.” Johnny says gritting his teeth. There’s the sir again, and you can feel Simon likes that. His hand slips round your waist and his fingers brush your clit. You moan hard and Johnny squirms, now you’re close as you clench round Simon. He moans thrusting into you harder hitting you in just the right place, his hand rubbing little circles round your clit. Without even realising it the blowjob has turned into a sloppy mess as you mindlessly take Johnny as deep as you can. 

“Si-” Johnny says gripping your hair even tighter, you feel if he grips it more he will pull it off. You want to tell Simon it’s okay that you’re close too. But maybe it’s Simon, maybe he still needs time. You clench again holding back as you moan. His fingers dig into your waist. 

“Go on love make him cum. I know you’re close too.” Simon says. That makes you smile and you pull yourself out your head and get back to the steady rhythm you had before. Johnny’s not going to last long, you can tell by the way he’s moaning and writhing. You’re not going to last long either, Simon’s finger’s rubbing you clit hard. Before you can stop yourself you’re coming, you take Johnny as deep as you can as he come’s too gripping your hair, his hips thrusting up. You can’t keep track of what’s going on, there are too many feelings too many hands.

You’re still panting through your orgasm as you feel Simon come too. His cock thrust inside you twitching as you feel him filling you up. You let go of Johnny’s cock swallowing his load as you take in gulps of air. You feel Simon pull out of you and you flop over on the bed pulling your body up to Johnny. Simon crawls over leaning into give you a kiss you pull back instinctively, then you remember this is okay and you lean in kissing him. Simon moans as he tastes the remnants Johnny’s seed still in your mouth. He pulls away looking at Johnny who is still trying to get his breathing to calm, you smile at him. 

“Christ Si, you really know how to tease a guy.” He says. You chuckle as Simon crawls over to kiss him, then gets out the bed. You cuddle up to Johnny who wraps his arm around your shoulder, you lay on his chest stroking his stomach.

“I could go again.” You say. Simon chuckles as he leaves the room.

“Jesus, lass you really are fecking perfect.” He moves and you slide of his chest laying on your back as he lays on his side. He looks over you, his eyes soaking in each part of your body. His hand squeeze’s one of your breasts, then travels down your stomach. You spread your legs for him your heart racing in your chest. He looks down as his fingers slides over your clit to your entrance, your body shivers. 

“Fuck, still so sensitive.” He smiles at you as he slowly pushes two fingers inside. Your pussy is making the the most beautiful noises with a mix of your juices and Simon’s cum. Johnny doesn’t start slow, curing his fingers to hit your g-spot as your back arches and your head gets buried in the pillows. 

“Is this what you needed lass?” Johnny asks his breathing picks up to match his speed. 

“Yes, yes it is.” You say between moans Johnny chuckles slipping another finger in. He’s thrusting deeper, harder and you grip the bedding panting as you get closer to the edge. He’s right you are sensitive, it’s not going to take you long to cum you’re already grinding your hips on his fingers. He’s whispering sweet things in your ears telling you how good you’re being. You don’t even have time to warn him you just cum, his name leaving your lips as you clench down hard on his fingers.

He chuckles riding you through the orgasm as you pull your head out from the pillows. He looks up at you smiling taking his fingers out your pussy and pushing them into your mouth. You suck on them hard cleaning then with your mouth and tongue. Simon walks back into the room chuckling with two glasses of water as Johnny takes his fingers out your mouth. He accepts the drink from Simon.

“I need to clean up first, maybe get some new bedding.” You chuckle as you scoot off the bed very much aware of the liquid now dripping down your thighs as you stand up. Simon comes over to you anyway forcing you to take gulps of water before you pass him to the bathroom.

You hear Simon getting Johnny off the bed and the sheets being stripped. You sit down on the toilet and clean yourself up, almost wanting to tell them you’ll do it, since you made all the mess. You finish and go to wash your hands. Johnny passes the doorway carrying the sheets to the wash, you go into the bedroom throwing on a clean pair of pants and a shirt then help Simon make the bed. 

“Tired?” Simon asks as you yawn. You nod.

“It’s been a long day.” You say. Simon pulls the covers back and gets into bed, he’s only wearing his boxers and you climb in next to him. He pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head. 

“That was a lot of fun.” You say as you stroke his chest. 

“Yeah it was,” he replies as you hear Johnny come in the room. He waists no time almost jumping in behind you pressing his chest up against your back. You feel his arms reach over you to rest on Simon’s waist as he pulls the duvet over the 3 of you. 

“Perfect,” you say as you let out a sigh relaxing into their arms. Johnny kisses the back of your head. Humming in your ear. Simon’s hand stroking your hair. This really is perfect.  

  ——————————

You wake to Johnny shaking you. There are lights on in the room you blink rubbing your eyes. You look over to the clock its 2am. Johnny hands you some jeans and socks. You can tell something is wrong Simon is not in the bed. 

“What’s going on?” You ask sitting up and swinging your legs out the bed. 

“We need to move, it’s not safe here.” Johnny says, as he takes his wedding ring off and hooks it on his dog-tag chain. You swallow hard it’s that serious. You don’t need to wait to be told again pulling your jeans and socks on as Simon comes into the room. 

“Get the bags and take her downstairs Price will be here soon.” Simon says, your eyes meet his but they're cold, it’s making you panic even more. Your heart starts racing as you leave the room heading to get some shoes on. Simon’s running round the apartment, you’re trying to think what could have happened. What did Johnny mean buy ‘it’s not safe here.’ Johnny comes round the corner dropping two duffle bags by your feet and pulling some shoes on. You follow him in silence as you take the short lift down to the lobby. 

“Johnny what happened?” You ask, starting to shiver. 

“We’ll explain everything just trust us okay?” Johnny says. You nod as car pulls up. The driver side window opens and you see Price. You follow Johnny out the door you get in the back as Johnny opens the boot throwing the bags in. 

“Nice to see you again.” Price says as you slide in. 

“Really it kind of feels like a bad time?” You say. Gaz is here too in the front seat you smile at him. Johnny gets in next to you as you pull your seat belt on. 

“Where’s LT?” Price asks.

“Finishing off inside.” Johnny says. His hand squeezes your thigh, it reassures you a little but you want answers. You’re about to ask Price when the building door slamming makes you jump. You see Simon walking out he has his mask on now. This must be serious. He gets in the can next to you. Price starts to drive before Simon even has chance to put his seat belt on. 

“We sure they don’t know about this place?” Simon asks.

“We can’t be sure about anything, but it’s safer then your place.” Price says.  

“What’s happening?” You ask out loud. Price looks at you through the rear view mirror. 

“Turns out the Masons run a nice little family business selling weapons and secrets to the enemy.” Price says. The Masons. Chloe’s family. 

“Anyway, they’re not too happy we found out about it, they seem to be under the impression it’s your fault.” Price explains looking at you again. You swallow hard feeling your heart racing in your chest. It was your fault, but your not the bad guy here they are. 

“Is that why they killed Chloe?” You ask. 

“We don’t know,” Johnny says squeezing your leg. 

“What’s important right now is we keep you safe so we can do our job.” Simon says. 

“What are you going to do?” You ask. 

“We’re going to stop them.” Price says. 

“You make it sound so easy.” You say, leaning back in the seat. 

“Hopefully it will be.” Johnny says. You look round the car. Price is focused on driving you to who knows were in the dead of night. You can’t help but think this is your fault. What if you had never seen those documents in the office. What if you had never provoked Jack in Syria. You had a feeling there was more to this then you’re being told. Maybe that’s for the best. The less you know the better. You close your eyes leaning on Johnny as you let out a sigh. Hopefully this is just another bad dream. One you really want to wake up from soon.  

Next

[twola]

Passerine : Chapter 3

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

One step forward, two steps back.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

Hi - I know it’s been over a year since I’ve updated this. Passerine is a love letter to trauma and the thereafter. It’s heavy. It’s hard to write. But thank you all for holding on to this. I promise it won’t be another year before I post chapters 4, 5, and 6 to finish it out.

Note: I play fast and loose with the passage of time as compared to the canon game.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

Abigail pulls the canvas around the tent’s opening closed behind her. She sighs as she arranges the fabric to preserve the privacy that you so desperately need.

Wiping the back of her palm across her forehead, she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to stave off a headache.

“Mama!”

She jolts, steadying herself as her five-year-old son barrels into her legs, whipping his arms around her skirts.

“Jack…-Jack,” Abigail reels slightly as she places her hand on his head as he snuggles into her thigh. She pushes gently and he unwinds his small arms from around her. He steps half a step back and she stoops down on one knee to look him in the eye.

She tucks some of his hair behind his ears, her hands cupping his small cheeks, losing the last bit of baby fat from them as the boy grows in fits.

“Can you be a good boy fer me and go find Uncle Hosea? I think he has a new book fer you.” 

His eyes flash in excitement as he nods, and Abigail gives him a wry grin as he tries to wriggle away, not letting go of him until she places a kiss on his forehead. When she takes her hand from his shoulders, he darts away across the camp, calling after Hosea.

Bless him, he’s like a grandfather to Jack. Between him and Arthur, sometimes, sometimes, she can almost forget how terrible of a father John is.

Speaking of which, she finds him staring at her from across the camp, elbows at his knees as he sits in front of the fireplace. She glares back at him before turning away, huffing in a moment of agitation.

She pulls back the tent's canvas slightly, confirming to herself that yes, you are asleep.

Frowning, she lets the canvas go and walks over toward the lakeshore behind where Arthur had set his tent wagon up, crossing her arms over her chest as the red-painted sunset reflected off of the still waters of Flat Iron.

When she had asked you when was the last time you bled, she expected sputtering, anxious eyes and having to come up with a way to tell Arthur that he’d gotten a child upon you.

Instead, your flushed face turned almost white as you shot to your feet and immediately stumbled away from the wash bin and toward the treeline.

Abigail dropped laundry she had been working on back into the tub and hitched her skirt to run after you, catching up only as you doubled over, leaning against a tree as you choked up bile onto the ground.

You had burst into tears in between wet, gasping breaths, your stomach heaving dry when there was nothing left to expel. Abigail rubbed your upper back soothingly as she pulled your hair back from over your shoulder.

“C’mon now, it’s gonna be okay. Arthur’s- he’s the best of the men, he’ll take care of you.” She cooed softly, her hand working in slow circles between your shoulder blades.

You sob aloud, which unseats her. “It’s…it’s….”

You could barely get the words out.

Abigail’s circles slow, “Is… it not his?”

You collapsed to your knees as sobs racked your body, wet coughs echoing through the woods.

Abigail spent the rest of the afternoon trying to console you, able to pry details between your fits of dry heaving and sobs. She narrows her eyes against the red sun in the distance, her shoulders finally letting down from how tightly they’ve been wound all afternoon.

The truth was much worse than she had been expecting.

She had managed to coax you away from the trees and usher you quietly into Arthur’s tent, where she immediately pulled the canvas shut before turning back to you and pushing you down gently into the cot, taking your boots off one at a time and placing them on the ground next to the cot.

In hushed whimpers, you told her about what had happened those months ago when the gang was still at Horseshoe.  Her brow furrowed in shock as she brushed your hair off of your forehead, taking a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbing it across your damp brow.

The truth, as terrible as it was, was not unfamiliar to Abigail. A whore by fifteen, she had seen her share of women forced against their will. A customer gone too far, a rat of a man waiting to catch one of the girls alone, not wanting to pay for services.

She herself had experiences with it. 

But you, as you regaled the terrible details in hiccuping breaths, you had never been part of that world, and when the O’Driscoll forced you down on that bed, the act of sex had never been weaponized against you until that moment.

She had finally calmed you down enough that you drifted off to sleep, not more than an hour ago.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Abigail glances back toward where the horses are hitched, Arthur’s mare still missing amongst them.

She lets out a long, mournful breath. As many times as she had tried to assure you that if you were with child it was likely Arthur’s… all you could dwell on was that man who bound and gagged you and had you on the old bed in that dingy cabin.

You had cried yourself to sleep, and Abigail now has to figure out what to do going forward. Obviously, she thinks as she brushes the loose hair at the nape of her neck that escaped her bun, she needs to figure this out with Arthur. No matter what the decision was. She needed to talk to him before she made a trip to Saint Denis to collect the needed items.

A pang of memory flashes in her mind - the horrified look on John’s face when she told him she was with child. How it was months before he had her in his bed again. Only once, when she was swollen with child, did he lay with her - now years ago. 

The sound of hoofbeats draws her from the fugue of her thoughts. She turns partway around to see Arthur ride into the camp atop his mare, weighed down with a whitetail deer strapped across the horse’s rump. Wiping her hands on her skirt, Abigail sighs and moves towards where Arthur dismounts, following him silently as he shoulders the deer carcass and slings it over Pearson’s table.

He scoots over toward the tub of soapy water to wash the blood from his skin.

“Arthur.” 

Arthur looks up, shaking his hands from the wash bin, “Miss Roberts,” he drawls with a smile on his face.

Abigail does not return his smile.

-

“She was raped?”

Arthur stares at Abigail from under the rim of his hat, clenching his jaw, “How-”

“She told me.” Abigail sighs, leaning against the tree a bit away from the camp that she had led him to.

“She alrigh’? What happened for her to tell you?” Arthur mumbles, glancing back at the camp looking for you, but you are nowhere to be found.

“Arthur. I think she’s with child.” Abigail states in a hushed tone, and Arthur’s eyes dart wildly back to her.

“Child?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Abigail retorts, her patience frayed and finally worn out.

Arthur’s jaw clenches before he opens his mouth again, “It’s mine.” He mumbles, almost too soft to hear, eyes shooting down to the ground.

Much like how you refused to listen to Abigail’s pleading and reassurance as she tried to convince you of the same, Abigail brushes aside Arthur’s comment.

“Did he… did he spend in her?” Abigail rubs her eyes with the back of her palm, exhausted as dusk was closing in on the camp.

“I have,” Arthur says quietly, continuing to look at the ground.

“I know you have, idiot. But th’ first thing she thought is that this baby belongs to some dead O’Driscoll that raped her.”

Arthur’s jaw sets, unable to hide the snarl from his tone. “Ain’t no way it's his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for a couple a’ months. And I don’t always-”

“Yes, Arthur, I get that.” Abigail interjects with exasperation, “The question is - does she?”

The outlaw’s gaze flicks upward, landing on Abigail for a moment, before he turns his head to the side, looking over the western horizon at Flat Iron Lake.

“Look - I don’t know what y’all want to do. I don’t know what she wants to do. But…” She trails off, her gaze also looking out to the lake, “I can give her things to make it end.”

Arthur doesn’t respond.

Abigail dusts off her skirt as she begins to step away, “But Arthur…”

He finally can make eye contact as she looks back at him.

“She’s gotta make up her mind - quick.”

-

The dinginess - the sour smell of off-food and dirty men permeated the air. The kind of stink that simple cleaning would never get rid of.

Your head is killing you as you blink away the pain, but you find yourself biting down on a foul piece of fabric tied around your mouth. You try to pull it down, but find that your wrists are bound behind your back.

The door opens and the feeling of dread in your chest explodes into a blazing fire of fear.

“There’s my little girl.”

His greasy, dark hair is slicked back away from his disheveled beard, and he smiles that toothy, nauseating grin at you.

The O’Driscoll pulls up your chemise from your thighs up and over your belly, baring your bottom half to him. You try to clench your thighs together, but as he leans over you, you do not find that he forces your legs apart.

But you cannot fight him as his rough and dirty hand spreads out over your belly.

“Pretty miss - gonna be all big and swollen with my child.”

Your eyes shoot open, your fingers closing tightly around the blanket that you’ve pulled around yourself. You have to bite your lip to stop from screaming aloud. 

Dusk’s shadows permeate through the canvas of Arthur’s tent, and you realize you’ve spent most of the afternoon sleeping. You push yourself up in the cot, breathing out heavily.

You pass your hand over your stomach. As soon as Abigail asked you the last time you bled, the cavern inside you opened up. You hadn’t bled since before the house in Cumberland. The nausea, the vomiting. God, you’ve been so tired too. 

Shit, was it true? Could there be a child there, under the softness of your belly? Would you grow round and hard there beneath your fingertips? 

Not only was there a pit in your stomach, but you felt like your chest had been cracked open - you’re drowning in yourself - why can’t you escape that O’Driscoll and what he did?

You curl up smaller in Arthur’s cot, pulling the blanket over you, trying to hide from the world.

-

Usually, it’s before a job that he reaches for a cigarette. Something to calm his nerves and hone his senses before roaring into a situation with guns blazing.

That’s not the situation he finds himself in now.

Arthur finds himself pacing in the wooded area outside of camp, smoking hurriedly as his palm clenches in agitation. He throws the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot, turning his face upward and exhaling a plume of smoke with a sound that could be described as a sigh.

The lantern lights of the camp start to glow in the distance. He hasn’t worked up the courage to rejoin the group since stalking out to the woods and smoking half a pack of damn cigarettes.

Flat Iron Lake is still in the distance, a few ships passing between Saint Denis and Blackwater illuminate the dark waters.

Arthur grabs his hat off his head with one head and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of the other. He closes his eyes, letting another long breath out.

Arthur swears he can hear a child’s laughter. It ain’t Jack though. Another young boy - with tawny hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. 

“Papa!”

A young boy who darts toward him as he slides off of his saddle.

The smile of a dark-haired girl leaning in the doorframe.

Fishing rods and toy horses and bedtime stories when he came around. A cup of coffee and pleasant conversation with a girl he shared a night with so long ago…

And two wooden crosses. Silence. Not even the birds sang that day he came upon the little house off the road. 

Arthur continues to pace, cursing under his breath. He goes to reach for yet another cigarette when he stops, swallowing, and grits his teeth.

How goddamn selfish of him to wallow in his own miserable past when you need him. The pit in his stomach reopens as he remembers the sight of you in that cabin. Bound, gagged, and violated.

And now his dumb ass has gone and gotten you pregnant. Foisted this upon you when you were still so vulnerable and hurting and god damnit - he told you he wasn’t a good person. This absolutely proves it.

There’s no lantern light on in his tent, he can see through the woods, and he’s stayed out long enough. Lord only knows Abigail is going to come find him and smack him the way she’s hit John - but he wouldn’t be any less deserving.

With yet another long, burdened breath, he heads back toward his tent.

Arthur Morgan moves as quietly as he can through the canvas, pulling it shut behind him. Darkness has fallen upon the camp, and he’s thankful that he can reach the oil lantern on the table with just enough moonlight for him to light it low. A yellow-orange glow emits from it, illuminating the tent.

You’re sitting in his cot, in the darkness, and in the light, he can see the sheen of tears down your cheeks. Your hair is falling out of the bun it’s half tied into. Fuck, he’s the goddamn scum of the earth.

“Darlin’,” his voice cracks with uncertainty.

You shiver, the threadbare blanket pulled over your shoulders as you sit in the cot. Arthur holds the rim of his hat in his hands, fidgeting with it restlessly as he cannot meet your eyes.

“Abigail seems to think…”

“Abigail’s right.” You mumble, monotone while staring into space.

Arthur chews his lip, “This is my fault.”

“Ain’t your fault an O’Driscoll-”

“I got you pregnant,” Arthur interjects, moving to sit on the small stool across from the cot.

“You don’t know it’s yours.” You snap back with a vicious snarl in your voice and he nearly recoils as if shot. This he did not expect.

Neither it seems, did you. Your eyes widen when you finally meet his, and hold his gaze for but a moment before your brow crinkles and you shove your face into your knees as you draw them up to your chest.

You hiccup a sob, “What if this baby looks l-like ‘im? What if the baby has them cold dark eyes starin’ at me like when when he-”

“Shh,” Arthur hushes you, preventing you from speaking aloud your terrible truth. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his embrace, “That ain’t gonna happen.”

You wriggle uncomfortably in his arms, trying to pull away. Arthur lets go of you, but his hands move to cup your cheeks and force you to look at him.

“No matter what, I’m gonna be here for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are only able to hold his stare for but so long before you look downward. Arthur lets go of your face and you take the opportunity to scoot further away from him in the cot, unable to look him in the eyes.

You’ve pulled your knees to your chest and hidden your face in them, ashamed of the tears that spill down your cheeks again.

“I had a son.”

Arthur’s voice is not loud, not strong, not solid. You slowly raise your head, sniffling, to find him sitting with his elbows on his thighs and head hung low, staring at the dirt below his feet.

“…had?”

He nods, still not looking at you, “He ‘nd his mother were killed, long time ago. Robbery.”

You remain quiet, your gaze down to the ground also. 

“I wasn’t there.”

You wrap your arms tighter around your legs.

“Wasn’t there for any of it. Wasn’t there when he was born, barely there as he grew up, wasn’t there when he ‘nd his mother needed my protection.”

Arthur rubs tiredly over his eyes, his thigh bouncing slightly with something you recognize as agitation, anxiety. 

Fear.

It is several moments before he looks up at you again, swallowing before the low timbres of his voice fill the tent again.

“If you want this baby - I’ll be here. For all of it.”

-

You curl up on Arthur’s cot and try to sleep. At your obvious discomfort, he maintains a distance between you, pulling a chair in from outside and posting himself in it, pulling his hat over his head to try to get some sleep. 

Just before dawn, the pit in your stomach threatens to open up, and you toss the blanket from your body and pad outside, hurrying toward the treeline for what has become your normal. You’re able to make it a few trees back before you have to stop and hunch over to empty your stomach.

You wetly cough between heaving breaths, and it is not but a few minutes later that you feel his fingers grab into your hair, pulling it up as you vomit into the leaves below. 

You lean into the tree harder as you spit up the last of the bile in your belly. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stumble slightly when you try to stand up, and Arthur’s hands find your waist quickly to maintain your upright position.

“C’mon there, sweetheart, let’s lay you down again.”

You don’t answer him, instead allowing him to guide you back to his tent as the first vestiges of the dawn overtake the sky. You let him help you lay down, you let him pull the blanket over your body. Exhausted, you finally fall asleep.

You awaken several hours later, when a hand presses to your forehead, checking for a temperature. Your eyes flutter open to see Abigail leaning over you, and you scramble to get up as she moves to the end of the cot to sit opposite of you.

Abigail takes your hand in your lap after a few terse moments. “Y’ wanna get rid of it? I can make that happen, but we gotta do it sooner than later.”

You look up at her, unable to stop the sheen of tears from glazing over your eyes. Tears escape and trail down your cheeks as your gaze moves from Abigail, sitting on the cot with you, across the small tent to Arthur, sitting on an old chair with his elbows on his knees.

Behind those blue eyes of his is a maelstrom, one you know he’s trying to hide from you. Arthur’s whispered voice echoes in your mind as he tells you the sorry tale of his own fatherhood. His loss, the indescribable hole in his heart full of regret and sorrow. Arthur’s gaze moves from you down to the ground.

You close your eyes as another wave of tears slides down your face, sighing loudly as you try to gather what little composure you have left. 

Finally, you look back to the woman gently rubbing your hand.

-

“Seen you hanging all over Arthur,” Grimshaw eyed your waist critically, “It’s his, ain’t it?”

There comes a time that you can’t hide it anymore - the swell of your belly just under your skirts. You’re sure the girls know - you’ve seen their eyes flit on your figure.

You continue to stare at the setting sun over the lake. Part of you wishes you had the wherewithal to respond, but you don’t have the strength to anymore.

Susan had clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Idiots. The both of you.”

You avoid people. Get your chores done quickly. Don’t complain about not getting jobs. Arthur moved everything of yours into his tent, more permanently letting down the canvas sides.

From that very first day that you cowered in his cot away from his touch, Arthur had given you a wide berth since you pushed him away - hesitant, sleeping on either a chair or laying his bedroll on the ground.

You awaken many days before dawn, silently padding out to the wooded area south of the camp, far enough away that the rest of the folks couldn’t hear your retching. Several times in the beginning, Arthur follows you, and you angrily shoo him away before he stops tagging along behind you.

Over the weeks, your belly hardens, your breasts swell. You have to let out the waist of your skirt, and there is no hiding anything when the height of the summer finds Clemens - it’s so miserably hot that layers to hide your growing body must be shed or you’d sweat to death.

You’ve seen Dutch eye you. You’ve seen him argue with Arthur. You’ve seen Grimshaw join the fray. Hosea has been dropping ginger tea off to you in the morning with a gentle, knowing smile - it tasted terrible, but after the first few bracing sips, it did settle your stomach.

“Mind if I join y’ for a smoke?”

From the grassy spot you sit upon, you look up to find the widow Adler looking down at you. She’s shed her skirts and blouses in favor of work pants. Arthur had dragged her away from Pearson hollering some kind of awful and they returned with her much less agitated. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, the scar above her eyebrow much more noticeable when she wasn’t wearing a hat.

You nod, looking back to the water, and the spurs of Sadie’s boots jingling as she pulls a matchbook from her trouser’s pocket.

“You know me, I ain’t gonna pussy foot about you. I know you ain’t gettin’ fat because of Pearson’s cookin’.” Sadie lights the cigarette between her teeth, continuing to talk through the process.

You remain silent, sitting there on the shoreline, arms looped around your knees, your skirts hiding your frame - your belly, swelling with child.

The match sizzles when she chucks it into the lake and takes a drag.

“Y’got a look about you that you ain't happy bout it.”

You frown, placing your forehead against your knees. “No,” you mumble into the fabric of your skirt.

She lets out a plume of smoke. Silence settles between you before you work up the courage to speak again.

“When they came to your ranch… did they… did-” you swallow, stuttering as your voice cracks.

Sadie drops the cigarette, mashing it into the ground under her boot.

“Yeah.”

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, sighing before your voice cracks again,  “I… when we just got to Horseshoe - there was a house I was scopin’ a-and then… then an O’D-driscoll-” you start to sniffle as your vision clouds with tears.

Sadie does not meet your gaze, simply closing her eyes and breathing out her nose.

“And you're thinkin’ it's his.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your face. What a miserable excuse for an outlaw you are, weeping like a frail woman in front of someone who endured the same trauma.

She lets out a long, thoughtful breath, heavy with the weight of familiarity, “I know, better than most, that you ain't gonna listen to anyone, but y’know it's probably Arthur’s.”

You swallow, about to retort something back at her when she turns on her heel, her spurs jingling.

“You and he weren’t exactly subtle with what you were up to.” Her hand brushes your shoulder before she walks back toward the camp. You remain still, looking out over the lake with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Best if you start lookin’ forward instead of lookin’ back. You’re only gonna find pain there.”

You look back toward her.

“Are you lookin’ forward?”

Sadie Adler turns halfway to look at you, her jaw set and eyes hard.

“No.”

-

You dream of blood. Of the overpowering richness and stifling warmth in the stale air of the tent. Of movement, people, murmuring voices, and hushed tones.

You dream of pain. You dream of being torn apart from the inside. You dream of screams, nearly inhumane, echoing in the tent.

You dream of Susan Grimshaw dabbing a damp rag over your head, a soft, pitying look on her face.

You dream of the women of camp surrounding you - of Abigail and Sadie, Tilly and Mary Beth. Karen, even Molly. Sadness, forlornness in their eyes.

Abigail holds a whimpering newborn in her arms, swaddled in a blanket.

The bundle is placed in your arms, and as you draw back the linen, the child’s features are revealed. Instead of Arthur’s dark honeyed hair and blue eyes, the babe has dark, dark hair and near-black eyes that blink up at you. Dark, cruel eyes that are nothing like your own.

Nothing like Arthur’s.

You rocket up in the cot, gasping, holding a hand to your breast to calm your racing heart. Your movement has awakened the other person in the tent, and Arthur shoots up from his bedroll on the ground, his head darting this way and that, looking for potential danger before realizing that you had been plagued by a nightmare.

“Sweetheart-” Arthur reaches toward your face to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you flinch and draw back further so that he cannot touch you.

“I just… I…” your voice stutters in the night, “P-Please don’t touch me.” 

His hand retracts from between you, “Course, darlin’.”

You gather the thin blanket around you closer, refusing to make eye contact with the man who has crawled closer to the cot from where his bedroll lay spread out on the ground. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Arthur says quietly as he pushes himself up, from his knees to sit at the very end of the cot, opposite where you have curled yourself.

“This.” You gesticulate to the distance between you, then to his bedroll on the floor, “You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the ground. You’re far too high up in this gang to be doin’ that.”

“You’re pregnant. I c’n sleep anywhere, don’t need a bed.” Arthur says, running his thumb over his bruised knuckles, also not making eye contact with you.

“I ain’t pregnant with-” You begin, clenching your fists in the blanket, your voice faltering.

“You are. Don’t start with this - you remember how many times we was stupid.” Arthur looks up, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes in a look of irritation before sighing, running his palm down his face against the exhaustion creeping in on him, “Look, sweetheart. I don’t know why you keep thinkin’ the baby’s his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for months.”

You turn your head away from him, setting your jaw. He doesn’t understand, how would he ever understand?

Arthur lets out a breath and moves from the floor up to sit at the opposite end of his old cot.

“But what if he is? What if this baby’s daddy is that O-”

“My daddy wasn't nothin’ but the man that made me.” He interjects, “Hosea and Dutch raised me more than my actual father did.” 

You glance at the mugshot placed on the wagon in the corner of the tent. Lyle Morgan stares at you, with unrepentant eyes, as if he were mocking you from the grave.

“If…if-” You stutter, your eyes watering over again as you draw your knees awkwardly to your chest, your belly getting in the way, The strap of your chemise slips down your shoulder, “If this baby is born and y’ see it’s h-his-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur’s voice raises a bit, and as he realizes it, he slides closer to you on the cot, and grasps one of your hands in his own, his large, calloused hand engulfing yours, “I’m gonna be this child’s pa. Me. I’m gonna be that for the babe, and I’m gonna be that for you.”

You don’t fight his touch. Your eyes water over as you tightly close them, “I don’t know why you’d want another man’s-”

His thumb tenderly swipes your cheek, dashing the tears cascading from your eyes, “Cause I want you, sweetheart. ‘Nd anythin’ you create, it’s gonna be from you, and I want that too.”

You can’t hold back the sob from your throat as you crumble forward in the cot, Arthur winds his arms around you. You breathe in the musk of him - of leather and tobacco and safety.

And in the dim silence of the night, you allow it, burying yourself into his embrace, crying into his collarbone, your swollen belly pressed against his ribcage. 

[flowerfreya]

No Knock Raid Part 2

I kinda have an obsession with mafia!141 and it's my fave dark romance trope

Pairing: John Price / Reader

No mention of name or description of reader

About this: The after affects of SWAT performing a no knock raid on the reader's and John's home.

Sitting down in the car , not even bothering to buckle up and start to cry silently. You understand what your husband does, you know that this was life before you and provides for your family, hell you work for one of the businesses you just didn’t think would affect your kids life , have them forever traumatized because of something we did. 

“Love” ,John says tenderly. 

“Please, just drive” , You want to see your kids , see if they are okay. To apologize for of course all the issues that you caused them for this one night. 

“We should talk about th-”. You cut John off , “There is nothing to talk about , get me home to my kids”. He sighs and shakes his head , he is worried about you. Your skin has a sickly sheen over it , your hair looks greasy but like you keep messing with it and your fingernails look like you chewed them off. 

Once you arrive home , the children run up to you, they just seem really tired and just want to snuggle up to you and be under you. They ask if they can sleep with you and you say “of course”. John is holding the youngest baby , hugging him close. You thank your sister for watching your children and send her on her way. 

The kids fall asleep quickly, at least one body part is touching you and John. You can’t sleep so you just stare at John who is assessing you. 

“I was on my way home,when I got the alert”,John says.

“They pointed guns in our children's face” You whisper. 

He pressing his lips so tight they almost disappear under his mustache, “ I know sweetheart, I’m going to fix this”

“But how, they are going to remember this night forever, and I can’t fix that”. You turn you head away from him, letting the tears run down your face. You feel a lot of mom guilt for being a working mom already, you work 40 hours a week and with this on top of it you don’t know how you are going to survive this. You don’t think that John can make this better , he can’t go inside your head and scrub that portion of your brain no matter how much you want too. He grabs your hand. He growls , “ You did everything,right. You hear me?”. You nod head, you don’t really agree but you logically know you couldn’t have done anything different, but that doesn’t feel like you couldn’t have.   

“I just want to go to sleep now, please. We have to talk about this in the morning with the kids present”. You did not want to be the type of parents that sweep everything under the bed, especially with something as heavy as this.

part 1

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You

a/n: WE DID IT JOE! this interlude is close to 9k words and is almost 16 pages in my google drive. we thought my 10 page interludes were a labor of love? if only we knew. this interlude if the full story on the birth of the twins and i hope you all cherish it the way i have. i apologize it took me a minute to get this written and ready for you but it is here and i am not ready to let go of cass and john quite yet as long as you all are still wanting to read about them. please let me know your thoughts and i look forward to explore all the nooks and crannies in this one with you all! love you all so very much xoxo

TW: descriptions of pregnancy and childbirth (traumatic)

Something felt different from the moment Cass woke up that morning. She felt it deep within her bones. Like the way you felt it in the air when a storm was brewing or the electricity that rippled throughout a room before two people came to blows. It was deep and settled and urged her to take action. It was the sense that she was no longer just a daughter or a sister or a wife. Today, she was going to become a mother.

The other half of her bed was empty when she rolled over. The sheets were rumpled and the comforter thrown back as if John had expected to come right back. She listened closely for the sounds of Butter but even his presence was not felt. That caused a spark of worry to rip through her veins.

“John? Butter?” she called, struggling around her full uterus to sit up against the headboard. They never worked together. If they were downstairs conspiring, she had no clue what it could possibly be in the name of. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” A smile spread across her face and a warmth blossomed in her cheeks and John came back into their room, a tray of everything she had been craving held between his hands and Butter trotted beside him happily with a rose between his teeth. 

“Oh, my baby!” Cass cooed as the dog bounded onto the bed happily and dropped the flower in her lap. Butter curled himself under her arm perfectly and rested his head on her belly, looking up at her like she hung the stars in the sky just for him. “You’re just so handsome and perfect, aren’t you?” she murmured as she puckered her lips and he kissed her before kissing the taunt skin that protected her fast approaching child. 

“What about me?” John clutched at his chest as he rested the plates of chocolate chips, Cheerios, shredded chicken and slices of cheese at the foot of the bed. 

“Butter asked to be my Valentine first. I’m sorry, John.” She closed her eyes as the warmth of her companion began to lull her back to sleep. “Besides, I’m not feeling mouthwateringly sexy this year.” Their Valentine’s normally looked like something out of a pleasure den. Red lace and rose petals and long soaks in the tub. Empty bottles of wine and whipped cream on skin. The day before or the day after was when they planned a nice dinner and exchanged a silly, little gift to commemorate the day of love. But the actual day was spent exploring all the new ways to come together and fall apart. Over and over and over again. 

This year, Cass barely had the energy to wake up and roll over. The strain of caring for another life was wearing on her as she neared the seventh month of her pregnancy. She was always hot and her muscles ached and her ankles were swollen. She had bouts of uncontrollable sobbing with no idea how it started or how to fix it. Horrendously inconvenient cravings that had John running around town at all hours of the night trying to satiate her. 

John was taking it all in stride. Was happy to rub her feet for as long as it took for her to gain any sense of relief. Jumped at the chance to run her a bath, rub lotion on her belly or shave her legs. Pampering her was the least he could do when she was carrying their child. Going on this journey with him, the journey they had talked about all the way back in Thorpe Abbotts. The journey that brought them back together after the trials of Germany and the breaking point of Wisconsin. All of it made sense every time he held her. All of it would seem trivial when he first held their baby.

“Spook, I took so long to come back up here because I was drooling over how sexy you are.” He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis and she laughed.

“I’m not fitting into any red lace this year,” she replied. 

“My undershirt looks mighty fine on you, don’t worry.” Her eyes lit up with a spark of energy, John taking the opportunity to kiss her lightly. “Today a relax in bed day?” There were days she was restless, needing to fiddle in the nursery or take laps around the neighborhood. Other days when she would rather sink into the couch and become a part of it. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. Something is different today.” His eyebrows rose as he lounged on the bed with Butter snuggled between them.

“Good different or bad different?” 

“Good different. I think my maternal instinct is really kicking in.” Her hospital bag had been packed for days, after one of her latest rounds of furious nesting, and John had practiced the route to the hospital at every hour of the day to make sure he was aware of all possible ways to get there.

“Should we go? It is time?” Cass could feel his excitement, and worry, ramping up. Sensed the way his muscles were tightening and his heartbeat was increasing just as it would before he went up for a mission. Her husband was now singularly focused on the task at hand. Get his wife to somewhere safe where they could welcome their baby into this world. The idea of becoming a father was daunting but it was everything they had ever wanted. The reason he had joined even before Pearl Harbor, to make sure the future generation would have a world as beautiful as this one to be a part of. The reason he had survived those nights in a German POW camp, to fulfill these dreams with the woman lying across from him. The reason he had spilled all of the darkness out of his soul that night in Wisconsin, so he could be sure that he was the right man to be her husband and the father of her children. 

“Not quite yet. Let’s enjoy the last little bit of time, just us.” He leaned over the dog to kiss the top of her head and his hand went to her belly on instinct, his thumb tracing little circles.

“I can’t believe we get to meet them soon,” he whispered. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt the happiness rolling off of him in waves and she knew she was giving him the same emotion right back.

“It kind of makes sense when you think about it. That our baby could be born on the day we celebrate love.” Cass had always fantasized about the notion that her children would be the tangible representation of the love she had for their father. Had let that fantasy shrivel away during the time she was set to marry Sidney Landry. With him, the thoughts of her children had turned into nightmares, bringing an innocent being into the world with someone like him as their father. She had lost sleep over the agony of doing that to her children. 

But with John, a man she loved more than anything else in this world. A man she had risked her life for and would a hundred times over. A man that valued her and respected her and allowed her to be herself and experience everything life had to offer. A man that encouraged her work and loved her more than any words in the English language could allow him to express. This was a man she was thankful her children would have as their father. Thankful that she could give them the joy of being loved by this man in the unconditional way only John Egan knew how to love. 

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me, Spook, or I won’t be able to control myself.” He prided himself on keeping his emotions in check unless they were anger or something rooted in the masculinity instilled in him by his father. Except for when it came to his wife. His heart on his sleeve and his mind an open book. There was nothing he would hide from her or shy away from her. Not after everything they had been through. 

“You’ll have to forgive everything I yell at you during labor. I promise that most of it won’t be true.”

“Most of it?” he asked.

“What if I decide to take the chance and just be honest? Maybe I’ve been hiding some pent up thoughts about you.” Cass said it like it was nothing and smoothed Butter’s ear, kissing between his eyes as he began to snore. 

“I see. Lull me into complacency before you strike. Is that what the CIA is instilling in you these days?” She giggled.

“No. I’ve been helping the new officers overthrow small nations.” John didn’t doubt the veracity of that statement for a minute. 

----

The relentless pulling of the muscles across her stomach turned into pain a few hours later. They’d enjoyed their snack in bed, taken Butter on an extra long walk and Cass had even indulged in an afternoon nap with him as John put the final touches on the nursery.

He had called Gale and Marge to let them know Cass thought it was time, the former promising to keep close to a phone as long as it took. Cleven had already promised his friend he’d keep him company in the waiting room for the entirety of the experience. It was a promise they had made each other before Cass’ arrival in the Stalag. John would stand by Gale’s side on his wedding day as his best man and Gale would stand by John’s side on the day he became a father. It had been dangerous to think of the future like that and make promises about what those days might entail but they had done so without a second of hesitation in their hearts. 

John smiled as he held a stuffed bear in his hands, one of many that was filling the room that would soon hold his child. Baskets and baskets of toys, books crammed onto a shelf, a closet overflowing with blankets and other comfy, cozy items. The love for this baby, the baby he had been dreaming of, was already present. He didn’t have to look too hard to know they were going on this journey with more of a family than they could have ever imagined. 

The sound of nails on the floorboard interrupted his thoughts as Butter came running to the room, barking at John and tugging on his pants until he stood up from the rocking chair. 

“What is it? I’m coming, I’m coming!” Butter stood in the doorway to make sure John was following, barking once and jumping to demonstrate the urgency before running back to the master bedroom he had emerged from. “Spook? Are you okay?” Cass was curled up in a tight ball on her side of the bed, teeth gritted and features pinched. Butter barked at John, asking him to fix it, before jumping onto the bed and licking at her cheeks and nuzzling at her stomach to try and soothe her however he knew best.

“I think it might be time to go to the hospital,” she groaned. John sat next to her and peeled her hand from its grip on the blanket she had been wrapped in, twining his fingers through hers and absorbing all the pain that she could give him. “Are we ready for this?” she gasped as the pain ebbed away to give her a moment to breathe.

“I don't think that anyone is ever ready to become a parent. But our little baby is ready for us to be their parents.”

“We should get used to being on their timeline,” she laughed, John’s thumb swiping at the remnants of a tear on her cheek. 

“Who allowed two chaotic individuals to procreate?” he teased to keep that smile on her face. It worked as she took his hand and kissed his palm. 

“I love you. Couldn’t be happier to share these moments with you.” Hidden behind her words but known clearly to him was the memories of their time in Germany. When they thought a moment like this would never be possible for people like them. When she even let herself begin to believe that she didn’t deserve it. 

“I love you,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her skin over and over again and she could feel a tear of happiness on her fingers, “more than I could ever fucking say, Cass. You’ve made me the happiest man in the entire world by sharing life with me.” John had always believed in God and hadn’t removed the cross from around his neck since the day he’d put it there. He had gone through phases of his life where he prayed, phases where he went to confession, phases where his faith had been tested. His wife was an answer to all those prayers. A blessing to counteract every sin he had committed. An angel descended to remind him absolution was possible. 

“Kiss me. Please,” she whimpered. He leaned down to meet her lips, one palm rested on her tight belly and the other on her flushed cheek. His nose knocked against hers once, twice before he kissed her again and pulled her up so her back could rest comfortably against her pillows. She grimaced as another wave of pain rippled through her muscles. Her fingers squeezed tight around his, Butter whimpering in shared pain as his nose pressed into the knots of her muscles. “They’re getting closer together.” John pressed a kiss to her forehead with an excited laugh. 

“Let’s go meet our baby.”

----

Cass was heartbroken to say goodbye to Butter. She cried as Alice, their housekeeper, watched from the kitchen doorway. 

“I promise Sir Butter will be pampered to his standards while you are gone, Mrs. Egan.” Cass sniffled around her tears as she pulled away from burying her nose in his fur. His paw landed on her shoulder as he whined. His own attempt to keep her close. 

“What if we just take him with us?” she asked as she looked up at John with glassy eyes. Her bag was in the car and it was running in the driveway, John ready to take off as quickly as a modern automobile would let him. 

“We can do whatever will make you most comfortable, my love.” Both of them had heard a wide range of birthing stories from their friends and family. The thought of being alone in the room was the most haunting thought to her. She wanted John with her the entire time. Wanted to hold his hand through the pain and see the look on his face as he met his child for the first time. Her doctor had told her that husbands were not allowed in the room. But she hadn’t said anything about dogs.

“Butter, baby, if you come and they won’t let you in the room, you have to stay in the waiting room with your dad and uncle.” He titled his head. Who was this dad she spoke of? “You have to promise me you’ll behave for them.” Butter had no problem behaving for Cass. He thrived off doing exactly as she told him because it ended in scratches and snuggles and special treats. That man standing behind her however…he could find it within himself to behave for him. But only because his mother was asking and it meant he wouldn’t have to be without her for too long. 

Butter huffed a bark in agreeance. 

“Sorry, Alice,” John announced as he held the door open for Butter and grabbed Cass’ hand to help her down the front steps, “looks like this one is coming with us.”

----

John looked around the hospital room they’d settled Cass in as the nurse helped her change into a gown. He didn’t like that it felt impersonal, sterile in a disturbing way and not at all like the cocoon of warmth that existed in their home. Maybe they could have their next baby at home. Welcome them in a place that felt more familiar. He thinks Cass would like that. 

“Mrs. Egan, we’ll need you to shave yourself as well.” The nurse handed her a razor and a  mirror. “I’ll check in on you in a little bit.” 

“It never ends,” Cass sighed as she sat down gingerly on the toilet. Butter stood like a sentry by the doorway of the bathroom.

“Let me help, Spook,” John offered as he moved towards her. Soon they would be kicking him out and he would feel beyond useless and helpless. He wanted to share these moments with her. Never forget a single second of one of the happiest days of their lives.

“I haven’t shaved down there in ages. Do you even remember what it looks like bare?” she asked with a breathless laugh as he dropped to his knees in front of her and she lifted her heels to the lid of the toilet.

“Cassandra Ann Egan, I know the prettiest, sweetest pussy in the world better than the back of my hand.”

“What about the palm of your hand?” she teased. She smiled at the way his features were pinched in focus, his touch light as a feather and as precise as he handled his planes. 

“Luckily, my wife’s hornier than I am. Don’t even have to worry about the palm of my hand.” He kissed the inside of her knee as he tossed the razor into the trash can and stood up, offering her his hand. His other arm wrapped around the small of her waist as she groaned and clenched her eyes shut through the oncoming pain of a contraction. “Breathe through it. I got you.” 

“This is awful,” Cass cried as her head dropped to his shoulder in defeat. John held her tightly as silent sobs shook her shoulders. His thumbs pressed deliberately into the muscles at the base of her spine, offering a gentle massage as the pain ebbed away. They were still occurring closer and closer together, lasting longer and longer as her body worked to prepare itself for the birth of their child. 

“You’re so beautiful. And strong. And I love you more than anything in this world,” he murmured into her hair as her muscles relaxed and her weight rested against him completely. “Let’s get you into bed.” Her fingers had an iron grip around his as they moved slowly to the bed, Butter walking steadily behind to make sure his mother wouldn’t fall. As soon as she sat down on the edge, that painful grimace was back on her face. 

“Fuck.” It was the only sound she could get out around the breathless echo of her contraction. 

“Breathe with me, Cass.” They held each other’s gaze as he exaggerated the in and out of his breaths so she could attempt to match them. All of her friends and her sister had told her it would hurt more if she held her breath through it the way she would instinctively want to.”In and out. Slow and steady.” The pain ebbed away and he helped her lie down in a comfortable position. 

“I’m never doing this again,” she whispered as John dabbed at her forehead with a washcloth. “If you ever come near me with your dick ever again, I will hack it off.”

“I promise me and my dick will stay far away.” His tone was nothing but earnest as he took in the pure truth behind her eyes. She had meant every word. 

Cass collapsed back against the bed as her chest heaved with the effort to try and steady to her breath. To not completely let go and unleash a scream of pain to fill the room.  Butter nuzzled at her hand at the side of her bed. She offered him a tired smile and scratched at his snout as best as he could. 

“Mr. Egan? Mr. Butter?” The nurse from before stood back in the doorway. “It’s time for you both to transition to the waiting area.” Cass looked up at John to see tears beginning to form in his eyes. She whimpered at the thought of being separated. 

“I’m going to be right down the hall,” he murmured as he brought their combined hands to his lips. “And you,” his voice broke, “you are the most beautiful and bravest person I have ever met. I love being yours, Cass.” His lips peppered kisses down her arm as she leaned forward to embrace him. John could feel her own tears as her cheeks found the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“I would do it all over again knowing we end up here. A thousand times over.”

“The first time I saw you was on an airfield in England. I was all bluster and bravado. The next time I see you, you’ll have our baby in your arms.” He knows for certain there would be no bluster and bravado about him then. 

“Thank you for not letting my stubbornness deter you back then,” she laughed as she pulled away and they each wiped at the other’s tears. 

“Thank you for not letting my stubbornness deter you once we made it out of there.” Oh how close Germany and the after had come to breaking them. But she did notice his choice of words. His choice to not say when we made it home. Because they had been each other’s home since the moment they held each other in a silent dance under the stars and the wing of a B-17. 

“I love you, John.”

“I love you, Cass.” 

To them, it was the simplest thing in the world.

----

Buck Cleven was going to run out of cash if John kept smoking the way he was. As he held the fresh pack of cigarettes out to his friend, he kept the grip tight around the box until John looked him in the eye.

“You might want to slow it down, Bucky. Don’t want your breath to light your baby’s hair on fire.” It earned him a scoff of a laugh but the lighter was flickering against the end of the paper regardless. 

“I need to do something. Can’t just be idle while my wife is down the hall having our baby.” The more he paced and the more he sipped at whiskey, the more his accent was shifting towards his beloved Yankees. Buck couldn’t help the smile on his face. Butter perked up where he was resting on one of the couches at the mention of his mother.

“You’ll see her soon, buddy,” Buck offered as he sat next to the hound and gave him belly rubs. 

“Having all the women at my wedding fawning all over you wasn’t enough. Now you’re getting Butter to go all googly eyed?” Butter was thoroughly enjoying the belly rubs. No matter who it was giving them.

“Keep wearing a hole in the carpet and leave us alone,” Buck chirped back. John smirked, the trademark tilt to his lips that insinuated a devilish authenticity to his oncoming words, but Buck noted the small tremor to his hands as they lit his next cigarette.

“Should it be taking this long?” he inquired to no one in particular. “The nurse hasn’t come by with an update in,” he checked his watch, “almost forty-five minutes.”

“I’m not an expert. I’m sure they’re just in the thick of it,” Buck mused as Butter rolled over and put his head under his hand. A silent request for scratches there.

“Mr. Egan?” His head whipped fast enough to make him dizzy, a nurse standing in scrubs. There was blood on them but John had been told it was to be expected. “Would you like to meet your daughter?” Daughter. The word focused his wandering brain and restless feet as he let it burrow directly to his heart. 

“Daughter? I’ve…a baby girl?” His lips were numb as he tried to form the words. Tried to form a coherent thought. Buck stood and grabbed his shoulder with a loving squeeze. 

“You’re a father,” he smiled, “you got a beautiful baby girl with your beautiful wife.” 

“I can meet her now?” John asked as he pressed his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“Let me show you to the nursery.” The two friends embraced with a laugh, Butter jumping and dancing between them as he sensed the joy in the room. 

“I’m so happy for you, Bucky. No one deserves to be happy more than you and Cass,” Buck said sincerely as he looked his friend in the eye. 

“I gotta go meet my little princess.” John turned to follow the nurse down the hall, “Stay there, Buck! You need to meet your niece!” Butter whimpered. 

“Don’t worry,” Buck bent down and pressed a kiss to his snout, “He’s just going to get your sister.” 

John stopped right in front of the big glass window that looked into the nursery. There were plenty of babies nestled into their little beds, some squirming and screaming. Some sleeping. Some looking around to try and figure out their new surroundings. His eyes scanned the names written on a piece of paper in front until he found it.

Penelope Frances Egan. 

Her head was covered in a little pink hat, her eyes open as she wailed into the air. She was clearly not happy to have been removed from the comfort of her mother’s womb and seemed to be demanding that she was brought back there immediately. He didn’t even have to look at the name tag to really confirm it was his daughter. Already the perfect blend of him and his wife. 

“Can I hold her? Bring her back to my wife?” A piece of John was gnawing at him. There was no way his wife would have let their daughter be taken from her this quickly. Not unless something was wrong. 

“You can hold your daughter in a recovery room but Mr. Egan…at this time I cannot let you see your wife.” It was the one thing that could have possibly tore his gaze from the bundle of pure love and innocence that he was already devoted to. “After your daughter was born, the doctor noticed another baby. Your wife was pregnant with twins.” Even his breathing stopped at the admission. Twins. Two little Egans were making their way into the world today. He was a father and Cass was a mother, twice over. 

There was a sense of panic that rose in his throat as he remembered they only had one crib and one rocking chair and one dresser but it was soothed by a sense of joy that came immediately after. They would find a way to make it work. To thrive in the chaos as they always had and always will. John had more than enough love in his heart to become a father of two today. More than enough. 

And then a scream ripped through the halls of the maternity ward. A blood curdling scream that locked his joints into place. Had his head turning towards the direction of the sound, the same direction of the room he had last seen his wife in. And it was then he knew. 

John began marching towards Cass’ room and paid no mind to the frantic calls of the nurse that began to follow after him. He would not allow his wife, his heart, his everything to face this battle alone. They had never done so before and they would not start now. 

----

Cass was having trouble catching her breath. Her hair was matted to her forehead and sweat was pooling in every dip and curve of her body. She remembers the elation at the sound of her daughter’s cries. Penelope. That was the name her and John had decided on in the event they had a baby girl. And Cass had smiled and cried and wished to hold her. She hadn’t even had the chance to get a good look at her when a sharp pain had pierced through the lower half of her body. 

“Mrs. Egan, Cassandra, I need you to stay with me.” 

“Penelope,” she groaned, her only focus being her daughter. Where was she? Was she okay? Why weren’t they allowing her to hold her daughter?

“You’ve been blessed with twins, Mrs. Egan,” a nurse said as the room began to spin for Cass. “Your second baby just isn’t in the right position.” But the doctors could already tell the baby, a boy, was smaller than his sister. That his coloring looked a little off. 

“My husband. I need my husband,” she cried as panic began to root itself in her chest. The doctor disappeared under her gown and before he had time to explain what he was doing, a scream ripped out of her mouth and made her throat ache once it was finished. Cass felt like she was about to throw up. The pushing and pulling between her legs coupled with the dizziness in her eyes was a sensation she hadn’t felt before. Not even at the hands of her German interrogators. 

“You need to keep your eyes open, Mrs. Egan,” the nurse ordered. She could hear someone yelling out in the hall. John. It sounded like John. 

“My fucking wife is in there!” He wasn’t just angry, he was furious. She focused on the sound of his voice as black was spotting across her vision. 

“John,” she whispered, barely, weakly, as blood continued to flow from her body. The door crashed open and bounced off the wall as John Egan stood in the doorway. He took up the whole space and white hot rage was radiating off of him until his eyes landed on her. His beautiful, precious wife. His reason for being. 

“Oh, Cass, baby,” he whimpered as he fell to his knees at her side. She sobbed at the sight of him, at the feeling of his lips on her face and his hands pushing her hair off her forehead.

“Penelope…is she…” 

“She’s good. She’s safe and healthy and wants to see you so bad.” Cass smiled as best she could and her head lolled to the side. She no longer possessed the strength to keep it steady. “Hey, Spook, come on. Keep those pretty eyes open for me, okay?” John cupped her cheek and used his thumb to stroke across her eyelids in an effort to get her to open them again. 

“So tired,” she mumbled, her eyes vacantly staring at the wall behind him. He tightened his grip on her hand and shook her face in his hand. 

“I’m right here with you, Cass. And we’ve got a baby daughter down the hall and another baby-”

“Boy,” she whispered as she tried to keep her eyes focused on the blues of his. John laughed around his tears.

“We got a baby girl and a baby boy to bring home with us. Everything we’ve ever wanted, Cass. Everything we’ve been dreaming about.” Her blinking was slowing and so was her breathing as a hush fell over the room. The doctor pulled the baby boy from between her legs and…he was silent. John felt sick as the small, pale little boy was rushed to the corner where doctors and nurses descended upon him. His son. That was his son. And something was wrong. 

“Gale,” she whispered before her head dropped and her grip in his hand went lax. 

“Cass? Cass!” It was John’s turn to scream as she lay lifeless in front of him, pressing to his feet and bringing his hands to her chest to begin compressions. “Come on, Cass, come on baby. Come back to me.” He heard a dog barking and then an arm wrapped around his chest and pulled. His elbows flew back and connected with the stomach of the security guard, John stumbling forward to try and resume his efforts. 

“Get this dog off of me!” If he looked back, he would have seen Butter growling with the arm of another guard clamped between his teeth. They were trying to stop John from saving his mom. He would not tolerate it. 

Before John could get his hands back on her, maybe for the last time, six arms wrapped around him to pull him back. 

“Get your fucking hands off of me! My wife…Cass! Cass, I love you. I love you. I love you,” he wept as they dragged him from the room. He was warped right back to that German forest. Watching her disappear as he was dragged into the enemies hands. Convinced that would be his last image of her. And now he was convinced of the same. That his last conversation with Cass would be about their children. The beacons of light and hope they had fought for every day. That the last pieces of their love would live on in those two babies. And-

A shrill cry echoed. His son. His baby boy. Gale Clarence Egan. 

John collapsed into a heap once they reached the waiting room, Buck held back from joining the fray by two security guards who released him. 

“Where’s Butter?” Buck questioned the guards as he landed on his knees by his friend. “Where’s their dog?” 

“He bit one of us,” the guard sneered. Buck stood and made sure he was chest to chest with the man who had spoken.

“You bring that dog to this room right now or I swear to God,” he threatened. Right now they all needed to be with family. Butter was family. And Cass would want them all to stay together and take care of each other. The guard held his stare for a heartbeat before relenting and disappearing down the hall. 

“Twins, Buck. I’ve got two babies,” John murmured as his friend helped him sit his back against the wall. “Gale and Penelope.” Buck’s heart skipped a beat at the sentiment but he didn’t dare ask about it. 

“I bet they’re the most beautiful babies in the world,” he whispered. A sob choked in John’s throat. 

“Cass…She…They wouldn’t let me hold her.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. “I didn’t get to say…” Goodbye. That was the word on the tip of his tongue. But saying it would mean it was real. That it was really the end of their story. At least he had the chance to tell her he loved her. And if those were the last words he ever got to say to his wife, his light, the breath in his lungs and the blood in his veins, he could be at peace with that. 

“She’s going to keep fighting, John. She’s got you and your two babies to fight for. Hell, she’s not going to leave Butter to suffer as the only sane one in your household.” 

“Where is Butter?” John asked, sitting up straighter and looking around for the bloodhound. “I need to make sure he’s okay-” He swears Butter was crying as he came bounding around the corner to the waiting room. The dog was whimpering and shivering as he collapsed onto John’s chest. John wrapped him in his arms and held him tight as his own tears fell onto his fur. “We’ll be okay, buddy. We’ll be okay.” 

“Gale? John? What’s going on?” Marge came running into the room, having expected happiness and cheering and celebration. Not her husband, his best friend and Butter to be crying on the floor. “Where’s Cass? Where’s the baby?” 

“Twins,” Buck answered, “Gale and Penelope.” Marge softened ever so slightly and squeezed his hand. She knew how much of an honor it was to him. “Cass had some complications. The doctors are working on her now.” The look in his eyes told her how serious it was. Told her it was something they could discuss later when they were alone. 

“Mr. Egan?” It wasn’t a nurse this time. They had sent a doctor. His scrubs were covered in blood, Cass’ blood, and he looked like he could pass out at any moment. “We managed to stop your wife’s bleeding. We put her to sleep to ease her pain but she’s going to make a full recovery.” John wanted to feel elation. To release the breath that he was holding in. But he couldn’t yet.

“And my son?” he asked tentatively. 

“He’s not as healthy as his sister, as we would like him to be. I can’t make any promises until we see how he does overnight.” 

“I need to see my daughter,” John answered resolutely. He stood and Butter sat at his feet loyally. When Cass woke up, he would need to be strong for her. Especially if their son’s health was in question. 

“Of course. I’ll have a nurse get you settled in a recovery room.” 

----

John sat in a chair by the window of the sterile, beige recovery room. He was trying not to hold his breath as he waited with Buck, Marge and Butter for the nurse to retrieve Penelope from the nursery. 

Even though the news about Cass had been positive, the lack of clarity on their son was causing an unsettling feeling to take root deeply inside of him. John knows he was not going to feel stable until every piece of his family was back in his arms where he could protect them. 

It was Marge’s gasp that shocked him from staring out the window.

“I’ve got a very special little delivery for you, Mr. Egan.” The nurse smiled as best she could with the melancholia that was sitting like a haze in the room. 

“Oh, John, look at her,” Marge whispered as Penelope was placed into his arms, Butter sniffing her gently with approval. He looked down at the sleeping bundle and couldn’t help the smile that cracked across his face. The tears that began to fill his eyes and trickle down his cheeks.

“Cass should be here. She should be the one holding her.” His lips pressed a gentle, tender kiss to the sliver of forehead that peaked out from under her pink hat. 

“Soon, John. Your whole little family will be together soon,” Buck murmured as he reached over to give Penelope’s foot a little shake.

“I love you so much, my little love,” John whispered to his daughter. “Your mommy does too. I promise we will love you every day. I promise.” Penelope scrunched her nose in her sleep before her eyes slowly opened, like it was a struggle for her to be roused from her slumber. John couldn’t blame her. He also hated when someone woke him up. 

“Hi, princess,” Marge cooed as the little girl blinked up at her father. “Are those some baby blues we are looking at, Lieutenant Colonel Egan?”

“Yeah. I think they are,” he laughed. Cass was going to be so happy when she found out. She had told John over and over again that she hoped their children had his eyes. It looks like she was going to get resolution for at least one of their kids. 

“They better be. I didn’t go through all that just to have my wish go unanswered.” Three heads snapped to the doorway and one furry body came running over but stopped right in front of his mother. As if he knew why she was in a wheelchair. Why there were circles under her eyes and an IV taped to her arm and wheeled next to her. 

“Cass?” John asked as if he didn’t believe she was really right there in front of him. His lip wobbled as he stood and walked towards her, Cass’ choking back a sob behind the palm of her hand as he bent down to put their baby in her arms. “You scared me, Spook,” he admitted as Cass held Penelope close to her chest and traced her nose across her baby soft cheek. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I-” John kissed her temple and wrapped his arm under Penelope so he could hold both of them as best he could. “Where’s Gale? Where’s our son?” Cass’ head whipped around as she looked for her baby boy. She had lost consciousness before even hearing his cry. She needed to know he was okay. She needed her baby boy safe and in her arms.

“The doctors said we can’t see him yet. That he is going to need to spend the night with some special attention and we will know more in the morning.” He noticed the slight tremor to her hand as she kissed Penelope's forehead three times. 

“I failed him. I should have known I had two babies, John. How did I not know they were both there? How did I not know that something was wrong and he needed me?” Cass held her tears in as best as she could, John pressing kisses to her shoulder.

“You did not fail him. You provided for him these past months and you fought to get him here. You almost…” he paused to steady his voice. “You almost gave your life to make sure he got to experience all this world has to offer. How could that ever be considered a failure, my love?” Penelope stirred gently and opened her eyes, Cass making eye contact with her daughter for the first time. 

“Hi, my princess. You’re so beautiful and perfect,” she cooed at the little baby. She felt a soft hand on her shoulder and looked to see Marge, the woman who had practically become her sister.

“She is perfect, Cass. And so is little Gale, I just know it.” Cass nodded with a thankful smile, Butter licking at her knee and John standing up to help wheel her towards the bed. 

“Sorry for the surprise on the name. If it makes you uncomfortable, Buck, we can change  it.” 

“Nothing could make me happier,” he promised with a gentle hand on her knee. “I love you both like you’re my blood. I love all four of you like you’re my blood.”

“Thank you for being here. It means everything to us.” Cass leaned forward so Buck could plant a kiss to the top of her head before he rose to stand next to his wife. 

“We’ll come by with a change of clothes and some food for you in the morning,” Marge said. John lifted Penelope from his wife’s arms and Marge held her as he and Buck helped Cass into the bed. John fluffed the pillows behind her back the way he knew she liked, or as best he could with the quality. 

“How’s that, Spook?” he asked.

“As good as it will get. Just need some baby and husband cuddles.”

“I’ll be back in just a second, okay?” She nodded, John pecking her lips before he guided Buck out of the room by the elbow. “I need a favor from you if I’m allowed to ask for one after all you’ve already done for us today.”

“Anything, Bucky, you know that.” John took out his wallet and began to count through the bills. 

“We only got one cradle. They can probably both fit in it but-”

“I’ll make sure a fully built cradle finds its way into your house, Bucky. Promise.” He breathed a sigh of relief at his best friend’s words. He already felt like some kind of deadbeat for only buying one of everything. He wasn’t starting on the best foot. 

“When we agreed to be by each other’s side back in those bunk beds…Is this how you pictured it?”

“The details might be a little different, John, but we made it through the worst to be right where we are. We’re married to women so out of our leagues it's not even funny. You’ve got two little babies you are going to take home and care for and cherish the way people write novels about. And the journey to get here is not as easy as we deserve but we are here. And we have to be thankful for that, yeah?”

“I’ll feel better when my son is in my arms,” John answered, his swallow snagging on the lump in his throat. “I can be thankful that my wife is okay and my daughter is healthy but I can’t…can’t truly be thankful for it all until he’s with us.” He didn’t quite know the words to describe the feeling. The gaping hole in his chest that could only be filled by his son. 

John’s capacity for love had grown when he’d first met Cass. And had grown steadily every day that she had been in his life. Had skyrocketed at the revelation she was expecting and then expanded further until he thought he was going to burst if their child didn’t arrive soon. For just that one split second of seeing his daughter, he thought the final puzzle piece of his life was being placed. But then he had learned of Gale Egan and the hole in his chest was ripped wide open. Vacant and depthless all over again. Only one would be able to fill it. 

----

Neither of them slept that night. They had refused to let the nurses bring Penelope to another room, not wanting to let the little princess out of their sight. They were both assured that no news was good news when it came to Gale and that a doctor would be by first thing in the morning to let them know how the night went. It was pure agony to be left in the ether of not knowing. 

Penelope distracted them well enough through the night. The little girl was of course tired from the ordeal she had experienced but it hadn’t stopped her from testing her lungs throughout the night. She was easily soothed in the arms of her parents and for that they were endlessly grateful. They had heard horror stories of nighttime with a newborn. They hadn’t even let themselves think about the fact that they would be bringing home two. 

Butter had been ever vigilant at Cass’ side. His eyes never left her as if he was afraid she would disappear again. As if he would have to endure the sounds of her agony and the smell of her blood again. He had given Penelope an approving sniff and licked her cheek at some point in the night to calm her cries. It had worked. 

“Why don’t you close your eyes for a little bit, baby?” John whispered as the sun began to poke over the horizon and Penelope was contentedly rocking in his arms. 

“I can’t. What if something happens?” she asked even as her eyes were fluttering closed and staying that way for longer and longer periods of time. But she was so afraid she would miss news, any news, of her son if she allowed herself to drift to sleep. Butter was attempting to use his snout to tuck the blankets closer into her body. Even he could tell that she was in desperate need of some sleep. 

“I’ll wake you. Promise.” Penelope yawned gently in his arms before snuggling back into her peaceful sleep. A gentle snore answered him back. 

Cass managed to sneak in a couple hours of sleep before the sounds of footsteps approaching the room roused her. John was still holding their daughter but had found some comfort in the armchair at the foot of her bed. She took the moment before the doctors entered to just admire him. The way his curls were pulled in every direction and were as unruly as she had ever seen them. The tired droop of his eyes that were looking at the little, pink bundle like she was the only thing that had ever existed. His hands, that had always brought her such comfort, were now doing the same for their daughter. 

The best gift she could ever give her children was John Egan as their father. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Egan? This is Dr. Light, he’s in charge of the special unit where your son has been resting.” Cass sat up straighter in bed, John gently placing Penelope in her cradle. He reached for his wife’s hand and Butter went to sit by Penelope to make sure she would be protected. 

“Gale,” Cass said confidently, “Our son’s name is Gale.” John looked down at her with a smile on his face. She had that spark back in her eyes that had been missing after the turmoil of yesterday. It said she was ready to fight, to go to the mat for her children and use whatever she could at her disposal to ensure her family would be together and happy and healthy. It was the Cass he had first rested his eyes on back in England. The one he had fallen in love with almost instantaneously. A fire in her soul that had spurned him into unlocking a piece of his own that he hadn’t realized he was missing. 

“We had Gale under close observation all night and he made it through.” Her hand still tightened around John’s. It was a step in the right direction but there were still many more to take. “I am confident that you will be able to bring your baby boy home with you tomorrow.” Cass let out a whimper and John leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

“Can he…Is he…Is it safe for him to come and be with us?” John asked carefully. 

“Or we’ll go to him,” Cass chimed in quickly, “Please. We just want to be together as a family.” There was hope blazing in her eyes. John felt his own fire licking up his spine. The urge to protect and defend his wife and his family. He focused on the feeling of her hands in his; strong and sure and warm and present. She was here. They both were. They were going to get to the other side of this. 

Butter, himself, gave a little whine as if he was pleading for the group to be together. 

“I thought you might ask that,” Dr. Light smiled and stepped to the side as the nurse wheeled in a cradle similar to the one Penelope was currently resting in, a blue banket snugly wrapped around their son. 

Cass let go of John’s hand with a gasp and swung her legs over the bed, meeting the cradle with a sob and bringing a shaking hand to the cheek of her baby boy. 

“Oh, my sweet, baby boy,” she cried, “I’m so happy to see you. I love you so much and I am so sorry I didn’t take better care of you.” She knows John had said it wasn’t her fault and a piece of her knew there was nothing more that could be done but she would never be able to shake the blame. At least not for a long while. 

She lifted Gale to her chest and rocked him gently as tears streamed down her face. He was here and he was perfect. Just like his sister. “He’s a fighter,” John mused with his own tears in his eyes as he stood behind Cass and rested his arm underneath hers to cradle their baby boy together. “Everyday he will get stronger.” Maybe his coloring was still slightly off and his cheeks weren’t as round as the little girl that was sleeping to their side but they were going to be able to bring him home. They wouldn’t have left here without him.

“Mommy and Daddy love you so much. We always will,” she cooed before sitting back down on the bed with Gale. Butter trotted over, his front paws on the bed as he stood to get a better look at the new creature that had entered the room. “Say hello to the little prince, baby.” Cass shifted so Butter could view him fully. His nose ran up and down the tiny body before pressing against his cheek for a bop of extra love. Butter dropped back down to the floor and situated himself perfectly in the center of the two babies. Their loyal guardian. 

John lifted Penelope to his chest and settled on the bed next to Cass. Something locked into place. Something perfect and pristine and right. Something final. 

“How’s it feel, Spook?” She looked up at him with a smile. Fulfillment. Victory. Actualization. A tease of the happily ever after she had fought a war for. 

“It feels like All The Things I Did were to get me here. Get us here. Right to this moment.”

“All the things we did, Cass, I’d do them all over again.” Those things flitted around their minds like a movie. 

“You’d fall in love with a spook on an airfield in England?” Knowing the push and the pull and the give and the take and the endless tug on his heart? John kissed the top of her head.

“My only regret is I didn’t do it sooner.”

[1000roughdrafts]

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers. 

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her. 

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. 

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying. 

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly. 

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?" 

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car." 

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -" 

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?" 

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!" 

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four. 

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?" 

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy." 

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?" 

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!" 

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly. 

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean. 

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge. 

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight. 

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles. 

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday." 

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way. 

"Yeah," Sam nods. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word. 

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?" 

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?" 

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls. 

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking. 

Sam huffs, "Who's that?" 

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N. 

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead. 

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..." 

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again. 

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." 

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it. 

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam. 

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!" 

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that." 

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips. 

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge. 

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks. 

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know." 

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on. 

"What the-," Dean says. 

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks. 

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them. 

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing. 

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge. 

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?" 

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water. 

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him. 

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!" 

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit. 

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing." 

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him. 

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest. 

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static. 

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths. 

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away. 

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest. 

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue. 

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him. 

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop." 

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N. 

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest. 

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again. 

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor. 

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be." 

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits. 

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks." 

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start." 

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks. 

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods. 

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters. 

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.  

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat. 

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N. 

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-" 

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N. 

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers. 

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head. 

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation." 

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge." 

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me." 

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

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[runnning-outof-time]

Birmingham | Tommy Shelby x Reader (Part 12)

Previous Part

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) joins the Shelbys at their family event, where she starts to feel like she actually belongs. Things take a sharp turn afterwards, when a surprise raid leaves a new baby without its father, and (Y/N) knows who may be behind it.

Warnings: language, smoking, mentions of drinking, vague descriptions of childbirth

Word Count: 3932

A/N: I’m a bit nervous for this one cuz I’m not sure about it…I hope it’s received well. As usual, the italicized dialogue is taken from the show. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"I'll allow you enough time to go home and come back here before the event starts," Tommy said to (Y/N) after he'd given the basic details of the event that was happening later that evening.

"Why is that necessary?" (Y/N) asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"You'll need a nicer dress on," he answered her, taking that excuse to look her figure over. If she asked why he'd done that, he wouldn't admit to his secondary intentions.

She scoffed at him, the smile making its way onto her features showing that there was no actual harm in his words. "Mr. Shelby! I'm feeling quite insulted by your statement!" she playfully gasped, a hand over her heart for dramatic effect. Tommy chuckled and shook his head at her statement. "Exactly what type of an event am I attending?" she asked for more details then.

"It's a wedding."

"A wedding?" she asked, surprise now present in her voice.

"John's getting married," he answered nonchalantly, as if what he was going to say was obvious.

But it most certainly was not to (Y/N). "John's getting married?" Her eyes were wide now.

"Yeah," Tommy was still nonchalant.

"He found someone?" she asked yet another question. She couldn't recall John having a woman and wondered how much had happened over the month she'd been absent.

"I found him someone," he corrected her.

"Found? What is that supposed to mean? Does he even know this woman?" more questions escaped (Y/N)'s lips before she could slow them down.

"No," Tommy shook his head, continuing before she could jump on him - she certainly looked like she was ready to, "he needs someone to look after his kids...we need a way to settle the feud that's going on between us and the Lee's. This marriage will satisfy both. Esme's a good woman."

(Y/N) listened intently to his explanation, taking some time to let the pieces connect in her mind so that it'd, hopefully, make more sense. "Don't you think it's a little...backwards; medieval, maybe, to be marrying him off like this? You're treating him as if he's your daughter, which he most certainly is not," she pointed out.

"John will understand that this is what's best for the business," he answered her, dismissing her points without giving much thought to them.

(Y/N) pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. She had many thoughts about this major life decision that Tommy had made for his brother without even consulting him. She was sure that he had his reasons, as she's noticed by now that Tommy always does, but she couldn't help but wonder what John would think of the arrangement.

"(Y/N)?" Tommy's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah?" she asked, focusing on him again.

"You didn't hear what I said, did you?" he asked her, the corner of his lips threatening to quirk upwards because he knew her answer already. She didn't give him a verbal one, but instead shook her head as a guilty smile formed on her face. "I'd said that you can go home now so that you'll be able to meet Pol back here...if you still want to go, that is," Tommy restated what he'd said before, then looking at her expectantly.

"No, yeah, I'll head home quickly and do that," (Y/N) nodded, grabbing the rag that she was using to clean down the bartop so that she could put it into the wash bucket.

"Grace, you'll stay here later tonight. Celebration might be in order after everything's finished," Tommy addressed the other woman, who had been wiping down the tables whilst the other two were talking.

"Ok, Tommy," Grace nodded, sending a smile in his direction before she resumed her task.

(Y/N) stuck around for a few more moments to see if there was anything else to be said to her. When silence rang out through the room, she walked out from behind the bar and made her way to the door of the tavern.

——

"Don't you think this is a little backwards, Pol?" (Y/N) asked the older woman as they walked down the streets to the section of Small Heath where the wedding was being held, "you know...Tommy choosing John's wife for him."

Polly pursed her lips as she heard (Y/N)'s statement. She thought about it for a moment before sharing her response, "John's got a lot on his plate with the children he's got running around at home, and this war between families needed to be settled," she kept her response vague, outlining the same points that Tommy had hit, "sometimes business and family intertwine," she added onto the end.

(Y/N) exhaled a slight sigh, still not really able to wrap her head around the situation in its entirety. She couldn’t help but think of the times that her family had done similar things. She really didn’t want to mix the two families, but it certainly was hard not to at the moment.

"This woman will be good for John," Polly told (Y/N). It was almost like she knew what the younger woman was thinking. "We need to make a stop first," she then announced, taking (Y/N)'s arm and leading her down another row of homes.

As they walked on, a familiar face was standing on the sidewalk just outside one of the larger buildings. A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face as she got closer and made out who this person was.

"Are you ready?" Polly asked her niece as she and (Y/N) came to a stop in front of her.

"Ready as I can be," Ada answered, with what seemed to be a faltering smile on her face.

"You look good, Ada," (Y/N) stated, smiling at the brown-haired woman.

"So do you," she returned the compliment, offering a real smile this time. "Shall we go?" she asked then, looking between the other two women. Both Polly and (Y/N) nodded their heads and the three set off to where the ceremony was being held.

—

John was already up at the altar with his bride-to-be when the three women arrived at the ceremony. Polly led them over to where Tommy was standing. She let Ada stay there before she tapped on (Y/N)'s elbow. A silent glance told (Y/N) that she should join her and let the siblings have their space, so the two moved over to the side of the aisle and watched on.

The ceremony was short and sweet, and ended with John and his new bride sharing a kiss to signify their new bond as cheers rang out from both of the families. The celebration started almost immediately after. A band began to play and an upbeat song was being sung.

"Care to share a dance with me, (Y/N)?" Arthur's voice came from over her shoulder, making her turn away from Polly to look at him. She smiled up at him before looking at his hand that was outstretched in her direction. "It won't hurt nothin'," he told her after a few moments had passed.

(Y/N) nodded and stood from her chair, glancing over her shoulder to see Tommy watching her, a cigarette perched between his lips. A part of her wished that it was Tommy who'd asked her to share a dance, but she didn't let herself get hung up on that. Instead, she rested her hand into Arthur's palm and allowed him to lead her out to the dance floor. They began dancing to the upbeat song, wide smiles on both of their faces.

Tommy's eyes stayed focused on (Y/N) as she moved about the makeshift dance floor. Polly and Zilpha were having a conversation next to him, but he was only half-listening to it, his mind focused elsewhere.

On the dance floor, (Y/N) danced with Arthur until Ada swooped in and took her as her partner. Arthur said nothing in response to this and instead just stood off to the side and watched the women dance. It was obvious that Ada had some to drink. She was laughing loudly and singing along to the song, not caring in the slightest that she was out of tune. (Y/N) was laughing along with her, truly enjoying herself for the first time in a while.

The two women danced like that for some time, and Ada's behavior only got more boisterous with each second that passed. When (Y/N) asked Ada the reason behind her desire to let herself loose like this, she quickly brought to attention the fact that she'd been cooped up in a dingy apartment away from everyone and everything, and that she was at her mind's end...she just wanted to have some fun. And fun they had.

Until Tommy came walking over to the dance floor. "Ahh look, (Y/N)!" Ada called out once she noticed that her brother was approaching, "he's coming over for a dance with you!"

(Y/N) froze in her spot and opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to because Tommy had already extended a hand to Ada and was addressing her: "Ada, come on. Have a rest, sit down," he began, speaking in a calm voice in hopes that a big spectacle wouldn't be made.

But, of course, Ada had other plans. "Come and look, Esme," she called to the woman sitting next to John as she stopped dancing and faced Tommy, "come and look at the family you've joined! Come and look at the man who runs it!"

"Ada..." (Y/N) said in a harsh whisper as she took a step closer to the brown-haired woman's side, hoping that she could goad her into stopping before things blew up any further. Ada didn't even bother to break her gaze from Tommy. She had her mind made up, and nothing was going to veer her off of her course.

"He chooses his brother's wives for them! He hunts his own sister down, like a rat, and he tries to kill his own brother-in-law!" she continued, pushing Tommy away as he tried to come closer to her, her volume and emotion rising with each word she spoke.

"Ada, that's enough," Polly said as she moved behind her, her eyes jumping between her niece and (Y/N), who was also trying to get Ada to relax.

"And now he won't even let me have a fucking dance! Not even at a fucking wedding!" she continued on. At this point, the party had come to a halt, and everyone's attention was on what was happening on the dance floor.

"Sit her down!" John chimed into the conversation, now standing behind Polly and (Y/N) with his new bride next to his side. He didn't seem to be happy that this was what his night had come to.

"Calm down, Ada," Polly continued with her attempts.

(Y/N) also joined in, finally able to put her hand on Ada's shoulder without having the other woman knock it away, "let's go and sit again, yeah? We'll take a little rest and come back to dancing again soon," she tried to get her to leave the situation.

Ada didn't say anything in response, but instead bent over and rested her hands on her knees, her breaths coming out in pants. Things got silent for a moment as Polly bent down with her. "Holy shit. Water. Right," she breathed out, her eyes wide as she stood up again.

This caused a different wave of emotion to sweep over the group that was now huddled together. "Not now, Ada," Arthur groaned, immediately knowing what his aunt was getting at, "bloody hell, you do pick your times."

Everyone started talking at once as (Y/N) and Polly managed to stand Ada upright again and spin her around so that they could leave the space. Tommy joined in behind them, placing a hand on his sister's back as they walked her over to where the family's car was parked.

"Go with Ada, (Y/N)," Tommy said from behind the group as they were approaching the car. She turned to look at him and nodded instead of verbally responding. She knew that she'd be going with her if he hadn't asked her to.

Ada had gone silent now, only letting out whimpers and groans as they walked. (Y/N) couldn't calm the adrenaline coursing through her as she walked...she never expected the night to turn out like this.

—

Polly had left the apartment, and only (Y/N) was left to watch over Ada, whose contractions had been coming at a steady pace since they'd left the wedding. Things were quiet until Esme came walking into the apartment. The three women stared at each other before Esme walked over to where the other two were sitting. Nothing could be said before Polly was calling up to them.

Her footsteps were heard rushing towards the room and there was a smile on her face when she came through the door. "Freddie'll be coming," she said, happiness evident in her words.

Ada exhaled a sigh that was a mixture of relief and happiness upon hearing these words, a tired smile forming on her face as she tried to steady her breathing. "I think...I think I need to push, Pol," she then panted out, making the three ladies come and circle around her.

"Alright, let's push," Polly said, and things took off from there.

(Y/N) tried to help the best she could, but it was obvious that she had little to no knowledge in the birthing department compared to these women. When Esme felt that the baby was facing the wrong way, (Y/N) immediately stepped into the support role, telling Ada that things would be fine and would work out in her favor. She helped hold her up as she moved to sit up on her knees, and the real pushing began. She hoped that it wouldn't last long, and hated seeing her friend in such pain.

"It's not much longer now, Ada. Alright, push," Polly talked her through the process, and soon enough, the sound of a child's cries were mixed in with Ada’s screams.

(Y/N) moved away from the other women to grab a smaller blanket so that Esme could wrap the baby up into it and get it cleaned off. "You did it," she said to Ada, who was taking deep breaths and trying to calm down from the experience she'd just gone through.

"Can you go see if the baby’s ok?" Ada asked (Y/N) in a shaky voice, and (Y/N) nodded, smiling before she stood up and moved over to where Esme was cleaning up the baby.

"How is the baby?" she asked as she got to the table.

"He's fine; healthy with no problems," Esme answered while working on wrapping the baby up with a fresh blanket.

"That's good to hear," (Y/N) replied, smiling down at the baby.

"Are you a Shelby as well?" Esme asked then, turning to look at (Y/N) once the baby had been swaddled.

"No, I'm not," (Y/N) answered, shaking her head. She was a bit taken back by the sudden question.

"Are you with one of the brothers?" Esme asked another question.

"No," (Y/N)'s answer was the same as before, though this one was said quicker than she'd have liked to.

"You seem pretty close to them," it still seemed as though things weren't making sense in Esme's mind.

"They've taken me in and made me feel safe here," (Y/N) gave her a short backstory of her history with the Shelby family. She figured that if there'd be a better time, she'd give the longer version, but now she just wanted to hand her friend her baby. Esme only nodded in response to (Y/N)'s answer, her eyes showing that she still had more questions on the matter, like (Y/N) had suspected she would.

Ada had moved over to the table after Polly was finished checking her, and took her baby into her arms after she'd sat down at one of the chairs. (Y/N) smiled as she watched Ada stare lovingly at the little bundle. Silence fell in the room then, and a calm washed over the women. No one spoke until Ada's name was being yelled from outside. Moments later, Freddie walked through the door of the apartment.

"It's a boy, Freddie," Ada announced, smiling at her husband as she turned to face him.

A wide smile appeared on Freddie's face as he moved over to sit by Ada. "It's a beautiful baby boy," he started as he reached out to touch the baby. Ada laughed softly as she leaned over at transfered the baby to his arms, "there you go. Welcome to the world, son," he said softly as he smiled down at the sleeping child.

The moment of reverie was broken by the sound of heavy knocking on the door. "Open up! Police!" could be heard from outside as the knocking continued. Everyone in the apartment froze. (Y/N) stayed in the corner as the police burst through the door and immediately went for Freddie. He tried to fight, but they overpowered him, and all that he could do was yell for Ada as they pulled him out of the apartment.

(Y/N) pulled Ada into a hug as she looked over at Polly, who was now looking like she wanted to rip someone's head off. "I need to go speak to Tommy," Polly said, looking briefly at the other women in the room before she moved to the door and exited the apartment.

The remaining women stayed frozen in their spots after Polly left, shocked and unsure of what to do next. "I...I think I need to go and make sure that Polly will be alright," (Y/N) broke the silence, and the other two women nodded their heads. She wanted to stay with Ada and Esme, but something was telling her to follow Polly to wherever she was going. So she rushed out of the apartment to catch up with Polly while the adrenaline coursed through her again...she never expected the night to turn out like this.

—

"Don't you dare look at me like that!" (Y/N) heard Polly scream from inside the Garrison as she rushed through its doors. As she entered the main bar room, she found Polly being held back by Arthur and John, and Tommy looking at her with a shock filled expression. A tense silence hung in the air as everyone waited for someone to say the next word. Polly broke it, spitting on the ground before saying "you liar," with venom dripping in her words. Tommy only blinked, probably still trying to process everything as Polly shook herself from her nephews' hold and stalked her way into the snug.

John and Arthur went to join her, shock also present on both of their faces. This left Tommy, Grace and (Y/N) standing in the main room. (Y/N) looked between the two, seeing an unreadable look on the other woman's face. Tommy's eyes found (Y/N)'s briefly before they dropped to the floor. He then turned and began walking to the back office.

(Y/N) stood still for a few moments before she also began walking to the backroom, something telling her that she should go speak with Tommy. "It's (Y/N)," she announced herself as she walked through the office's doorway.

Tommy had only made it halfway into the room before he had stopped and gripped onto his head with his hands. He was pushing his thumbs into his temples as he took deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm while also trying to figure out how this situation had come about. It was getting harder by the second to stop his mind from spiraling.

"Tommy..." she called out to him as she stepped closer to him, "what's going on?" she asked him once she was standing in front of him.

"I don't know," he breathed out, his hands still gripping at the ends of his hair, "I don't know what happened."

"With Freddie?" she hazarded a guess, her voice coming out soft so that he wouldn't think she was accusing him.

"Yes, with Freddie...with fucking everything," he answered, "I don't know what happened, but it wasn't me. I didn't send the coppers to Ada's."

"Who could it have been then?"

"I don't know...I don't know who," he answered her, his hands starting to shake against his head as his mind was still swarming with the possibilities of the scenarios that could have happened.

"Tommy..." (Y/N) trailed off when she noticed this shift, "hey, look at me," she said softly as she reached out and grabbed hold of his forearms so that she could pull his hands away from his face. He allowed her to, and she felt her heart drop the second she saw his wild, worried eyes.

"I don't know who it was, (Y/N)," he breathed again, shaking his head slightly as he exhaled shaky breaths, "but my family thinks it was me and I don't know how to change their mind."

(Y/N) nodded along as he conveyed what was going on in his mind, "hey, look at me, Tommy," she said, taking hold of his face and bringing him closer so that their foreheads were touching. Immediately she saw something change in his eyes, a bit of calmness washing over the worriedness the moment their skin touched. She stared at them for a few moments before she spoke again, "it wasn't you...I know it wasn't you." She didn't have concrete proof of this, but she believed him. She'd never seen him react like this before.

"Tom?! Tommy!" came from the hallway, breaking the silence in the room, "we found out who did it!" John was visible in the doorway seconds later.

(Y/N) and Tommy broke from each other, and Tommy was focused on his brother in a matter of seconds. "Who? Who was it?" he anxiously asked.

"It was that fucking Irish inspector, Chester Campbell. He and his coppers picked up Freddie...we got one of our men to tell us that he got an anonymous tip telling him where the apartment was," Arthur explained, walking into the room behind John.

Tommy swore to himself before he turned to look at (Y/N), who nodded her head, silently telling him to go with his brothers. He nodded back at her before the three rushed out of the office.

(Y/N) stood in the office, alone for a few moments. She needed a moment to think over everything that had happened over this short amount of time. As she pieced together the events of the night, something became evident to her. There was a voice screaming in her head, telling her that she knew exactly how this had happened. She knew of an Irishman named Chester, and of someone who could have provided that tip...and she honestly wouldn’t put it past that someone to provide that tip.

Sure, it could be a longshot, but right now she needed to talk to the woman who would have the answers. When she exited the office, she found the bar area empty, which meant that the person she wanted to talk to had left.

(Y/N) quickly left the Garrison for her apartment, hoping that she'd find the blonde-haired woman there. But after knocking a handful of times and coming up with nothing, she realized that having the conversation that night was a lost cause. So she returned to her apartment with her mind swirling from the possibilities and the adrenaline...she never expected the night to turn out like this.

Next Part

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @l1-l4 @chlorrox @lostgirl219 @woofgocows @bdudette @mrkdvidal1989 @stephhevring @fictional-hooman @httyd-marauders @nataliewalker93 @rangerelik @thecraziestcrayon @lora21 @cilliansangel @shaddixlife

SERIES MASTERLIST

[thatztyv]

Elle

Description:

- Couples Song Association

Word Count:

- 1k

Kᴏʀᴅᴇɪ Cᴏʀsᴏ

(core-dee-uh   core-so)

"Hi guys I'm Kordei", Kordei started.

"And I'm Jack Harlow", he said and nodded at the camera.

"Today we're doing the first ever Couples Edition Song Association with Elle", Kordei said and smiled.

For those of you who don't know, the rules are simple. They will be given a word and will have ten seconds to sing or rap a song with that word in it.

Song Association

Couples Edition

Kordei Corso & Jack Harlow

"Vocal exercises before we start?", Kordei asked Jack.

"I do this one thing", he said shrugging his shoulders. "Brrrd brrrd ahhh."

She looked at him then back at the camera.

"I'm not doing that", she laughed.

Word: Love

"Love", Kordei read off the screen. "Easy. Love, so many things I got tell you but I'm afraid I don't know how. Love by Musiq Soulchild."

The bell dinged.

"Didn't even give me a chance to think", Jack chuckled.

"We only got ten seconds you don't have time to think", Kordei said and laughed.

Word: Night

"Night", Jack said.

"Can we use plural versions?", I asked.

One of the crew members nodded their head and gave her a thumbs up.

"On some nights like this shawty I can't help but think of us", I sung before the time ended. "Nights Like This. Kehlani and Ty Dolla Sign."

The bell dinged.

Word: Hater

"Bae you better get this one... Hater ", Kordei said then the time started. "You have a song with this in it."

"I said this in a song?", he asked arching his brow.

"In plural form you did."

"Imma be upset if you can't think of the song", I said looking at him as I crossed my arms.

He hummed to himself thinking hard.

"Five seconds", she warned.

"They be like "Jack go get 'em," okay I'm bout to get 'em. My haters keep on talking, but these lyrics gon out live 'em", he rapped.

"Told you", she said looking back at the camera. "Poison by him and Lil Wayne."

Word: Infactuation

"Infactuation", Jack said.

"Infactuation? You sure you read that right", she said and leaned over him to look at his monitor.

"That's what it says", he chuckled.

"Infactuation. How do you even use that in a song?", she hummed, sitting back up in her seat.

"Four seconds. I know you got something baby. Cause I know for sure I don't."

"OHH! Girl I'm in love with you but this ain't the honeymoon. We passed the infatuation phase", she sung. "Ordinary People. John Legend."

The bell dinged.

"That was close."

"Right", she chuckled.

Word: High

"Ok next word...High", Kordei said.

"Easy", Jack hummed. "I drink til I'm drunk, smoke til I'm high. Castle on the hill, wake up in the sky. You can't tell me I ain't fly. Wake Up in the Sky by Gucci Mane, Bruno Mars and Kodak Black."

The bell dinged.

"You deserve a kiss for that one", Kordei said and leaned over and pecked his lips. "First one he got by himself."

Word: Blue

"Blue", Jack said.

"My blue jeans. Will last me all, my life", she sung and the bell dinged. "Japanese Denim. Daniel Caesar."

The bell dinged.

Word: Flashy

"Flashy", Jack said.

"I got a good one", Kordei hummed.

"I must be gettin' too flashy? Y'all shouldn't have let the world gas me. It's too late 'cause I'm here to stay. And these girls know that I'm nasty", she rapped and the bell dinged. "Industry Baby by Lil Nas X."

"I'm pretty sure someone else was on the song too", Jack chuckled.

"Noo I don't think so."

"That wasn't Nas verse you just rapped."

"Next word", she laughed.

"I was also on the song. She rapped my verse", he said into the camera.

"He's so self centered sometimes", she said and playfully rolled her eyes.

Word: Together

"Together", Kordei said.

"Did they say together in just the two of us?", Jack asked

"I don't think they did", she sighed as she continued thinking.

They looked at the time. Six seconds.

"Oooh. And even when we are apart, it still feels like we're together, Mariaa", she sung then looked at the camera. "Maria Maria. Santana and The Product G&B."

The bell dinged.

"I'm really carrying us right now", she said and playfully elbowed him.

Word: Money

"Money", Jack said.

"Uh uh Tupac said money", Kordei said and started snapping her figures trying to remember. "Bae you know that song, I always rap it."

She tapped his leg.

"Can't C Me?", he asked.

"Yes! They got me stressed out on Death Row. I seen money, but baby, I gots to get mo'. You screaming go Tupac, and I ain't stopping till I'm well paid. Bails paid, now, n-, look what hell made", she rapped.

She held her arm up and flexed her imaginary muscles. "This is too easy. We're gonna win this for sure."

Word: Baby

"Alright, I'm leaving the last one to you cause I've won us majority of our points", Kordei said turning to Jack.

"Bet."

"Last word is baby."

"Baby?", he hummed.

"Six seconds", she warned.

"Show you a link, now you workin', my baby. You f- on on me, it feel personal, baby. Trust me, it's comin' full circle, my baby", he rapped.

"P power by Gunna and Drake", she said smiling. "You know what that means."

The bell dinged continuously.

"We won every round.. Nice way to start off the couple's edition of Song Association don't you think baby?"

"Thanks to you of course. You carried."

"Anyways thanks for watching and be on the lookout for me and Jack's joint album coming out next month. It Wasn't Over Until We Stopped It: Louisville Takeover", she said and saw him furrow his brows on the monitor.

"Why the title so long?", he asked.

"I don't know you named it", she chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.

He looked at her for a second then back at the camera. "We do not have an album on the way."

"You supposed to go with it. Keep them on their toes."

"Maybe if the title would've been shorter", he chuckled.

[pinkrose787]

Amensia Branch AU! Chapter 4

Chapter Description: The long awaited reunion between Branch and his brothers!

Ao3 Link

I hope you enjoy! :D

Chapter 4

Poppy stares at Branch for a moment. She heard what Branch said. He wants to see his brothers. But she is having trouble processing why. Yesterday, he was disgusted at the thought of seeing them. Now, he wants to see them? What changed?

Maybe it was some of the scrapbooks she gave him. Perhaps he read about all the time he spent with his brothers. Maybe reading about how his brothers had changed over the last twenty years made him want to see them again.

But Poppy knows that’s probably not it. She remembers how Branch used to be. A few simple scrapbooks aren’t going to change how Branch feels. Especially, when it comes to such a deep wound. “Are you sure?” Poppy asks.

Branch nods. “I’m sure.”

“Well, alright!” Poppy claps her hands together. She gets up from her chair. “I’ll go get them! They’ll be so happy to see you again!”

She walks through the door and through the hallway towards the waiting room. This is most likely going to lead to disaster. Hopefully, it won’t Hopefully, everything will turn out fine. Maybe this reconciliation will be quicker and less painful than last time.

Oh, who is she kidding? She knows that Branch wasn’t happy to see his brothers the first time. The fight in Rhonda still replays in her mind. Up until that point, she didn’t understand why Branch was so unhappy to reunite with his brothers. But if that was what it was like for Branch when he was a baby, no wonder why he wouldn’t want to see them.

They changed. She reassures herself of that. The four of them have changed in the time since they left Branch, and they’ve changed since they reunited with him. Now, they’re better brothers. Now, they want to be there for Branch and support him. Branch will see that. Won’t he? 

She gets to the waiting room. The four brothers are sitting in a corner. Talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. From this distance, she can’t hear what they’re saying. However, she can see the look on their faces. They all look so solemn and worried.

Poppy walks over to them. Somehow, telling them that Branch does want to see them is more anxiety inducing than telling them that he doesn’t. Telling them feels like arming a bomb that’s set to go off any second. She could always lie. She could tell them Branch still doesn’t want to see them. But Branch has made his choice, and it would be wrong for Poppy to deny that.

“Hey guys!” Poppy says, trying to hide the worry in her voice.

The four of them look up at her. Their gaze is solely fixated on her, waiting for news about their brother. “How’s Branch?” Bruce asks.

“He seems to be doing a lot better! And…” She puts her hands together and takes in a deep breath. “He wants to see you. All of you.”

“Really?” John Dory jumps out of his chair. His face is lit up. “He really wants to see us?”

Poppy nods. “Yes, he does.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go see him!” Bruce gets up out of his chair.

Clay and Floyd follow suit. “I can’t believe that Branch actually wants to see us,” Clay says with a large grin on his face.

While Bruce, Clay, and John Dory are ecstatic at hearing about Branch, Floyd doesn’t look so happy. He doesn’t say anything. But Poppy can tell that he probably is having the same thoughts as her about how well this will go. 

“Well, follow me! I’ll take you to Branch’s room.” Poppy leads the four of them through the hospital corridors until they get to the door to Branch’s room.

Poppy stops just before the door. She turns around and faces the brothers. “So, before you go in there, I should warn you about Branch.” She takes another deep breath. “Branch right now, is a lot different than the one you know. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still the same troll. But he is a lot angrier and he doesn’t really have a filter when it comes to that anger.”

Floyd puts his hand on Poppy’s shoulder. “We know. We talked about this in the waiting room.”

Of course, they know. She and Branch explained to them what life was like before they reunited. When Branch was gray and angry. Just like he is now. “I just want you to be prepared. Branch can be really hurtful without meaning it.”

“I don’t think there’s anything that he can say that will hurt us too much!” John Dory exclaims.

Poppy stares at John Dory for a second. He has such optimism about this meeting that she wishes she had. Even though optimism has always come naturally to her, this is the exception to that. She knows Branch well enough that every time she imagines how this meeting will go down, it always ends in disaster. “All right.” She puts her hand on the door knob. “I’ll tell Branch you’re here.”

--------

While Poppy gets his brothers, Branch sits in his hospital bed reading the cards that Poppy gave him. There isn’t a shortage of them. All of them are so different in their designs. But they all say the same thing. “Get Well Soon”. The sentiment feels hollow. Like they’re doing it out of obligation rather than genuinely wishing him well. The only card that feels genuine among the pile is Poppy’s.

He holds Poppy’s card in his hand. Reading and rereading what she wrote. He rubs his thumb over the handwritten message at the bottom. Hoping that maybe he’ll feel a bit of the love that Poppy put into making this card.

The door creaks as it opens.

Branch looks up from Poppy’s card. “Hey Branch!” She says in her ever cheery tone. “You’re brothers are here to see you!” She opens the door more to let them in.

His brothers enter the room. Though the hospital room is large, it’s crowded with six people in it.

“Hey, Branch” Floyd awkwardly waves at him.

Branch stares at his brothers. He’s struck by how different they all look. Of course, he saw the photos of them in the scrapbooks, but seeing them in person is still a shock. They all barely register as his brothers. Instead, they all look some cheap BroZone impersonators. But to Branch there’s no mistaking it, they are his brothers.

He wants to say something. There’s so many things that he has wanted to say to them over the years. Different thoughts and different emotions all clamber to be let out. He wants to scream at them for leaving for so long. He wants to cry like a baby from all the pain they caused him. He wants to tell them how much he missed them. He wants to tell them how much he hates them.   

When he opens up his mouth to say something, nothing comes out.

“You know what. I’ll go out to the hallway to give you guys some privacy.” Poppy promptly slips out the door, closing it behind her. An act that Branch wishes he could do. He didn’t anticipate how awkward this meeting would be.

“So… We’re back!” John Dory gives a wide grin.

Branch cringes inside at John Dory’s attempt to break the ice. “Yeah, you are. Over 20 years too late.” He scoffs. That last part slipped out. Its meaner than he wanted to be, but he doesn’t regret it. Why should he regret saying the truth? Just because it was a little mean? He doesn’t think so.  

“Hey, so you know, we have been back for over a year now.” John Dory says. With the way he said it, you’d think a year was comparable to a century. As if the four of them have been back in Branch’s life for any real significant amount of time.  

“A year. All of you have only been back a year. Since you all left me when I was about 1 and I’m 25 now, that means you’ve been in my life for…” Branch quickly does the math in his head. “about a solid eight percent of it. Not even a full ten percent.”

His brothers share glances. All of them look hurt. But if there’s one thing Branch has learned is that the truth does hurt. Here, the truth is that they left him behind as a baby, and only came back when he was an adult. If they didn’t want the truth of Branch being angry at them for that, then they should have never abandoned him.

Floyd walks over to Branch’s bedside. “Branch, I know that we were gone a long time. And you’re rightfully upset with us for that.” His voice is soft like it was when he told Branch that he was leaving him behind. “But now, we’re back. We’ve been back and we’ve been making an effort to be there for you.”

“An effort that you couldn’t have made before? You promised me that you’d come back and you never did.” Branch’s voice is bitter and angry. In the coldest nights after his grandma died, he’d hear Floyd’s promise to come back repeat in his mind. He told himself that Floyd wouldn’t break his promise. That at any moment he’d be back. But that never happened.

“Well…” Floyd glances at his brothers. “It’s more complicated-”

“Tell me the truth, Floyd. If you had never gotten caught by Velvet and Veneer would you be here?” Branch looks at the rest of his brothers. “Would any of you be here? Because it seems like the only reason any of you are back in my life is because he got kidnapped.”

“Branch, please listen,” Floyd pleads. Branch has never heard Floyd sound so sorrowful. He doesn’t feel good about making his favorite brother feel like that. “I did come back, but when I did, I found that the Troll Tree was dead. I thought you were dead.”

“It was the same for me,” John Dory pipes up. “We didn’t know about the escape.”

Branch rolls his eyes. What a weak and lame excuse. “That’s weird. Because from what I’ve heard, you two should have heard about Pop Village.” He points at Floyd. “You were with the Hard Rock Trolls who definitely knew about Pop Village given that they almost destroyed it.”

Floyd looks at the ground. “I knew about Pop Village. But…”  

Branch doesn’t let Floyd finish his thought. Not wanting to hear whatever stupid excuse Floyd is about to come up with. He points at John Dory. “And John Dory, you expect me to believe that during your travels, you never came across a map that showed you exactly where Pop Village is.”

John Dory averts Branch’s gaze to avoid looking in his eyes. “I did, but…”

“But… what? You never thought to check to see if I was there. It never crossed your mind that maybe I could be there and be alive. You never thought that it was worth the effort to come visit and see if I was okay.”

Branch turns his judgmental gaze towards Clay and Bruce. Clay shifts uncomfortably as Branch stares at him. “And what about you two? Did either of you ever think about coming back?”

“I wanted too. I really did. But the Putt Putt Trolls needed me. I couldn’t leave them behind.” Clay says. That’s a terrible reason in Branch’s mind.

Before he can come up with some snarky reply, Bruce starts talking. “I couldn’t. But you have to understand. I was busy with my family.”

That is what he’s using to justify abandoning Branch? Really? “Right, you were too busy with your new family that you forgot all about the one that you left behind.” He laughs a bitter laugh. “Are you going to abandon this new family as soon as you get tired of them too?”

“No, they’re my family! I love them! I would never abandon them!” Bruce shouts.

“Then did you never love me! Because you abandoned me for them! You were my brother! I needed you! I needed all of you!” Tears start forming in his eyes. He doesn’t fight them. Let his brothers see the anguish that they’ve caused him.

“But you all abandoned me, when I needed you most. And you keep bringing up excuses as to why you didn’t come back, but you know what they’re all terrible excuses. Because I still lived in Grandma’s pod for two years after you left. Each of you had two years to come back. Two long years to come check-up on me. Just once. Just for one single day and you didn’t. None of you ever came back. Do you know what I had to deal with because of that?” His voice rises. He’s practically screaming now.

“I had to deal with watching Grandma die all by myself at the age of two! I had to escape from the Troll Tree by myself when I was three! I had to spend my entire childhood raising myself, because of you!” His voice is hoarse from the shouting, but he has to continue. “And now, you show up 20 years later expecting to pick up right where we left off. Acting like a perfect happy family. Not caring one bit about the pain you’ve caused me.”

“Branch.” John Dory’s usually gruff voice is soft. “We do care. That’s why we’ve been trying to fix our relationship. That’s why we’re here.”

“If you truly cared, then you would have come back. You would have at least tried.” The tears are flowing down Branch’s face. He doesn’t try to stop them. He doesn’t wipe them away.  

Floyd opens his mouth to say something. He knows Floyd. It’s going to be another excuse. Another justification of why they abandoned him and why it’s all okay now.

“Don’t.” Branch says. “Leave me alone. You all have so much practice at that.”

“Branch…” Floyd says.

“Just go!” Branch shouts.

Floyd flinches. He looks at his brothers for support. “Branch is right,” John Dory says, his voice low. “We should leave.”

He opens the door and walks out. Clay and Bruce follow him, not looking back at Branch. Floyd heads towards the door, but before he exits he looks at Branch. “I know you’re angry, but we’re not leaving you behind this time. I promise.”

Branch doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have the energy too. Floyd sighs and walks out the door. Leaving Branch alone to stew in his misery.

Great. It’s exactly like last time. They’re gone. But this time it’s his fault that they left. He was the one who pushed them away.

The once crowded hospital room feels so empty without his brothers. It feels lonely, but far less suffocating. There’s a part of his brain, the part that’s still a child, that wants his brothers to come back in and comfort him like they used to whenever he cried.  

But he knows that the brothers that the child part of him wants aren’t the four that were in here. The brothers that he wants are the ones that took care of him, the ones who cheered him on during BroZone rehearsals, the ones who were always by his side.

Those brothers are gone. They all died when they walked out on him and never returned. A thought crosses Branch’s mind that maybe it would have been better if they died when he was a baby. Maybe then they’d have a good reason for never coming back. Maybe then he wouldn’t have spent so many days and nights waiting for them to come back. Maybe then he would have been able to move on with his grief and his life.

And then he hates himself for thinking that. Branch lets his tears flow. Not for the sake of showing his brothers his misery, but because he is miserable. He’s hurt and he doesn’t know if anything is ever going to make him feel better again.

[idunnoanymore7]

Warming Up

Description: You and JJs looks at each other keep getting longer. What happens when you need him to warm you up?

Content: bad writing, JJ Maybank x fem!reader, friends to lovers, fingering (f!recieving), reader wears a bikini

Authors Note: Lowkey planned this with a super smutty part 2 in mind…thoughts??

—————————————————————

You didn’t want to go camping.

You are not a fan of bugs and outdoor toilets, and were perfectly comfortable with the idea of never going. 

But when your parents overheard your friends asking about it, it was all over for you. Soon enough, you found yourself in the back of the Twinkie trying to decide whether to cry or scream.

“C’mon y/n/n, it’ll be fun!” Pope says, gently slapping your shoulder.

“You were just warning us about the dangers of hypothermia Pope!” You respond.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna help anyone feel better,” says Kie.

“I think it’s important everyone knows preventatives! Drying out clothes, conserving body heat-“

“That sounds like the start of a porn,” JJ chuckles in the passenger seat.

You cant even laugh.

“Anyway, we’re here for you,” Kie says. 

“I didn’t want to go on my first trip either,” Sarah chimes in.  You smile at them.

“Thanks, guys. Just don’t want this to end up like Blair Witch or any other camping movie.”

“I’ve been to this campsite a million times,”

John B says as he turns the wheel. 

“Because my family owns it,” Kie rolls her eyes. “It’s barely in the woods.”

“Totally flat,” JJ says around his blunt. “Can see hot people from far away.”

“Very crucial,” you say dryly.

The conversation shifts away from you to the failed camping hookups. You think over your friends’ words in your head. Especially JJ’s.

You turn to look out the window at the passing trees. Your eyes catch JJ’s in the sideview mirror. He winks at you and you smile back, not quite reaching your eyes.

He spins back in his seat and calls your name. “You want a hit?”

“Yes please,” you say, needing any escape from your brain you can get. You reach forward and take hold of the smoke, careful not to touch his hand; you had enough going on right now.

“Damn JJ, thought you were saving that weed,” John B said to the rear view mirror.

You pause before your inhale.

“It’ll help calm her nerves man! Get off my back,” JJ retorted.

You smoked the blunt and secretly let Kie have a hit before John B had stopped whining about JJ not giving him any. 

You had handed it back when the van rumbled onto the gravel parking lot of the campsite. 

“Fuck, you had a lot,” JJ said looking at it.

“Sorry. Lots of nerves,” You grin sheepishly. 

“Let’s go!” John B hollers, jumping out of the van and walking around to open the door for sarah. They kiss and the rest of you make gagging noises.

“Aww you’re just jealous of how much body heat we’ll have,” Sarah says.

“Ewwww”, we chorus back. 

JJ has already lifted the trunk, tshirt blowing in the breeze. 

He hands you your backpack first, but when you go to thank him he’s already moved on.

You shake your head and stick with Kie to follow her directions on setting up your shared tent. Sarah and John B also shared, Pope had his own, and JJ insisted on sleeping outside.

“How often do you see the stars like this, baby?”

“He’ll be crawling in my tent at the first breeze,” Pope grumbled.

With everyones stuff packed away, it was time for the beach. You struggled getting on your swimsuit in the cramped tent, but succeeded and laid out your towel to read on the sand. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sarah says, her sunglasses pushed up on her head.

“Beach Read,” you reply with a grin, showing her the cover.

“Nice,” she smiles back before john b hauls her up and runs toward the water. 

He checks if she’s okay before jumping in, the shallow water coming up to their calves as they laugh. Your mouth bitters from jealousy.

“C’mon y/n/n! I’ll race you in!” JJ raps your shoulder.

“And freeze to death tonight? I don’t think so.” You tease.

“I’ll keep you warm, m’lady,” his sharp canine appearing under his smirk.

“You better keep that promise,” you grin and allow him to grab your hand and pull you  into the lake. 

The warmth traveling up your body from the connection only vanishes once JJ pulls you both fully under.

You come up, gasping. “Fuck you,”

“You wish!” He splashes water above his head and you smile at the joy on his face.

Soon enough, you’re all in the water. 

Your friends call out to start a game of chicken, and you call dibs on JJ as fast as you can.

“Come on!” Kie groans.

“Hey!” says Pope indignantly. “I can do it!”

You shrug at Kie and smile. “I’m just being strategic,” 

“Ouch baby, I thought you just wanted to tug my hair,” JJ says.

“You’re the most intense about chicken,” you refute.

“Really it should be called ostrich or something-chickens are too short for this,” JJ says.

“Guys let’s go!” John B calls with Sarah already on his shoulders.

JJ squats down. “You ready?”

“Yup!” you pull your bikini up on your hips and place your hands on his shoulders. Sliding your right leg over, then your left, you timidly place my hands on his head, flatly.

JJ shakes his head at you. “C’mon y/n/n you gotta grab on! That’s how we win!”

“Okay jay, okay,” you say, getting a better grip on his hair. You tried not to think of the implications, grabbing his hair as he-

“We’re ready!” JJ says, getting a better grip on your thighs. That doesn’t help you focus, but you try to keep calm as you look at the competitors: Kie on Pope, Sarah on John B.

You lean down to speak quietly into JJ’s ear.

“John Bs still got that right forearm from that fight with topper-if we push sarah that direction he won’t catch her.”

He grins and looks at you. “Dirty. I like it.”

You pat his shoulder and sit back up, getting situated. JJ bites your knee and you laugh.

Kie and Pope finally stop bickering and Sarah claps her hands to start the game. 

“And…go!”

You clamp your feet harder on JJ’s back.  He moves towards John B and Sarah, trudging through the water. 

JJ and you share a smirk as you divert to John B and Sarah’s left side. You immediately lock arms with her and began to shove. 

“I’ll get you!” Sarah squeals.

“C’mon y/n get her!” JJ says.

With a final shove, you send Sarah reeling back into the water. She squeals as she goes down, John B scrambling to keep her on his shoulders.

“Our turn!” Kie challenges you.

JJ turns to her and Pope.

“We got this,” you say.

“Hell yeah we do,” JJ replies, bouncing on his feet.

Kie and Pope lunge at you, but JJ sidesteps the attack. You grab Kie’s shoulder and tug to the left. Pope squeaks and they topple over. 

You raise your arms and cheer as the other four begin to grumble. It was a group of sore losers, but it was hard to care when you came out on top.

“Okay, game over.” John B says, rolling his eyes. 

“What, don’t want to lose again?” JJ teases. 

You whoop again to be annoying. JJ chuckles and leans down to let you off. 

You turn to him. “We did it!”

“We did it!” He repeats, and wraps his arms around your waist to swing you around. “Dream team!” He screams.

“Dinner time!” Kie yells and splashes to the shore. You all follow her, the heat of JJ still lingering on your back and down your legs. 

After dinner, we sit around the fire and drink JJ’s cache of warm beer he forgot to put in the cooler.

Everyone slowly breaks up: Sarah and John B heading to their tent with their hands all over each other, then Kie heading to your shared tent, and Pope to his. 

Soon, you and JJ are the only ones left.

“Losers,” JJ says. 

“Both in chicken and in being teens,” You say, taking a swig.

JJ chuckles and shakes his head. “Like, what now?”

You jump to your feet. JJ looks at you confused as you place your beer can down.

“Screw them. Let’s go night swimming.” You reach out your hand. He grins and grabs it, standing up.

“Like, skinny dipping?”

“Up to you!” You giggle, running towards the shoreline. 

“What, really?! Wait up!” 

You’re already pulling your shirt over your head when JJ reaches the water. 

“Jesus christ,” JJ says, eyes trying not to look at your bikini top.

“I wore this earlier,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but I was focused on winning..damn…”

You pull your shorts down your legs. “You coming or what?” you ask. 

“Yeah yeah working on it,” he said, crossing his arms to pull his shirt over his head. You try not to look as his abs appear, a happy trail down the bottom. You wade in instead. 

“Oh fuck it’s cold!” You yelp as your toes touch the lake. 

“Don’t be a chicken,” he said, now in just swim trunks. 

“Oh yeah?” you retort. 

“Oh yeah. I’m jumping all the way in.”

“Then i will too!”

“Okay, 3, 2-” JJ dives in before finishing the countdown.

“You dick!” you yell, running to jump in after him.

Unable to see anything in the dark water, JJ catches you completely by surprise when he jumps out and pushes you in.

You scream when you hit the ice cold water.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, it’s fucking cold. You were right,” JJ says, shaking water out of his hair.

“You think?!” you say, trying to be angry but just laughing in the end. 

He smiles in agreement. “Yeah, I think.”

“Ok we’re gonna get hypothermia…let’s get out.”

“We’ll be fineeeee,” JJ responds. 

“Maybe you will, you living furnace, but I’m cold.” 

“I’ll keep you warmed up,” JJ gives you a toothy grin. “C’mere,”

“What?” you say, getting closer.

“Just c’mere-” suddenly he jumps forward, pushing you in again.

“You ass!!”

“What, you like it?” he turns to show me his ass.

“Hmmm lemme take a closer look,” you say. He backs up and you shove him.

“Fuck!” he resurfaces, looking at you with big hurt eyes. You can see the gears turning in his head on how he can get you next, so you end it there and head back to shore.

The two of you giggle and whisper on your way up the beach. But when you peek inside your tent, Kie is sprawled out asleep across both your sleeping bags. You groan to the sky.

“What’s up?” JJ says.

“Kie’s all over my stuff and I don’t want to wake her up.”

JJ leans in beside you and grimaces. “Yikes.”

“The fuck do I do now?” You say, already beginning to shiver in your wet clothes.

“There’s room in my sleeping bag, and body heat and all that.”

“What?”

“I said i’d keep you warm-sleep with me,” JJ replies.

You could feel my skin begin to buzz at the idea of being so close to him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude…”

“Yeah totally,” he shrugs. “These stars cant be appreciated alone.”

“Okay, but feel free to roll me out if i’m a bad bag-mate,” You say. 

He laughs. “I don’t think that’ll happen.” 

I grab my pillow, which Kie thankfully had not gotten on. “Thank you so much…Popes hypothermia talk has got me freaked out.”

“I won’t let you die, babe,” JJ says, unzipping the sleeping bag. Your heart pounds at the nickname.

JJ pauses once the bag is open.

“Are you sure about-“ you start.

“Yes, i am,” he cuts you off. He climbs inside and lays on his back, shuffling to the side.

You approach slowly, until he pats besides him.

“Roomy! 5 stars!”

You laugh. “Is there room service?”

“Whatever you request, milady.” You feel your face getting warm as you slide your legs in next to his. He was right-there was a good amount of room for a sleeping bag. That didn’t mean you weren’t in incredibly close proximity.

You sit on your elbows to put your pillow down.

“Oh good, I forgot to bring a pillow,” he says.

“JJ. What? How?”

“See! This arrangement works for both of us.”

“Did you plan this just to steal my pillow?” you tease.

“Oh, absolutely,” he responds. You both shift to get comfortable, putting your heads on the pillow. Whatever space the sleeping bag may have granted is stolen away by you both resting your heads on the same small pillow. 

Your breaths fan over each other as you lay there. 

“Thanks for helping me win chicken today,” he says quietly, looking into your eyes. 

“Thank you for getting me my first ever victory,” you smile back. Before you can stop yourself, you drag a piece of his hair behind his ear.

He freezes. 

You scramble to apologize but he stops you. He slowly reaches his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear. His hand doesn’t move, instead resting on your jaw.

Your knees knock. 

You can feel the heat building between your legs, and try to squeeze your thighs tighter.

“Y/n,” he whispers.

“Yeah, jay?” your eyes dip to his lips, and he lets out the smallest whimper.

His fingers weave more desperately into your hair. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

He groans and pulls your heads together. You moan into the kiss, hands going to his hair and gripping it harder.

It was everything you had imagined and more. You could feel him wanting you just as desperately as you wanted him. The lake water still lingered in his taste.

When you pull back to breathe, his eyes are on yours immediately. His thumb traces your lower lip, sending shivers across your face. You trace his cheekbones.

“I lied earlier,” you say.

“About what?” he says, concerned. 

“I did pick you in chicken to tug on your hair,” you giggle.

He groans again and kisses you harder. His open mouthed kisses expand to your jaw, and your breathing gets heavier.

His breath gets raspy. “Do you know how I felt seeing you in that bikini?”

“You can see as much of me as you want,” you reply breathlessly.

“Not here.” He kisses you again. “It has to be right.” 

You don’t get a chance to respond before his lips are on yours again, hands grasping you desperately. You slip your hands under his shirt to feel his stomach, almost gasping when you feel the hard lines of his abs.

“Jesus, JJ, fuck..”

He took advantage of your gasp to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring you with fervor wherever he could reach.

“Please, JJ..”

“What, baby?”

You moan softly at the nickname and the intensity of his eyes. “Want you..wanted you for so long,”

“Me too, baby, me too,” he kisses you. His hands grip at your breasts, their sensitivity making you arch closer to him.

“Fuck, love,” you mumble, scratching his scalp.

You lean to his neck, wanting to leave a mark of you on his skin. His hands slide up and down your torso as you work on the bruise, his pinky sliding along the hem of your bikini bottom.

Your buck your hips, and he takes the sign to slip his hand lower. His palm slips over the hair there and reaches your clit.

You groan into his neck, trailing your hands from his abs over his shorts to palm his cock. You took him in your hand but he stopped you. 

“Sorry, I should’ve asked-“

“No no just…let me take care of you,” he says, sliding your hand back into his hair. 

“I knew you liked your hair tugged,” you grin. 

“I knew you liked thinking about me in bed.”

“I-I didn’t-“ you’re cut off when his thumb circles your clit.

“What was that?” he smiles.

“I-okay, I did,” 

“What did you think about?” his middle finger begins to gather the slick around your hole, as his thumb continues its rhythm.

“I-if you-“

“If what?”

“If you liked praise-if you-if you’d let me sit on your face-“

He groans into your neck. “Yes and yes.”

He slides his middle finger inside you, curving it to hit your spongy spot. You groan.

“God J, you’re a dream,” you babble.

“Oh yeah?” he says, beginning to pump his finger. 

“Did you - think about me?” you ask.

“All the time,” 

“What do- do you want to know?”

“I wanted-“ he trails off.

“Tell me, please,” you moan and grab his bicep.

“I- fuck- I wanted to know what pretty sounds you make, if you’d let me get you  cockdrunk, what you taste like-“

You moan and kiss him again. He pushes another finger inside you and you break, cumming over his fingers.

You feel his strangled gasp beside you, and a wet spot on your thigh.

“Fuck, JJ, did you come too?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly.

“That’s so fucking hot,” you groan, shoving your lips into his again.

He pulls his fingers up and holds them between you.

“Look at this mess you made,” he teases. He puts his fingers in his mouth and groans, tasting you.

“God you’re perfect…I knew it. Taste yourself.”

He puts his fingers in your mouth, and you swirl your tongue to get every taste of you and him combined.

“Did I keep my promise?” he asks.

“Definitely. I am very warmed up.” you smile.

The sleeping bag is much more comfortable once you wrap your arms around each other, and you fall asleep tired and smiling. 

[pixiemunsons]

baby, baby, baby (sh)

steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help

breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)

a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3

it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.

a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.

steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.

you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve. 

he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.

you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?

───

‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’

steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?

‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.

‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.

’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.

you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.

‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’ 

you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.

‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.

‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.

‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’

his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.

‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’

a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.

‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it. 

‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’

steve was totally fucked.

he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.

‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.

‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’

steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.

‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.

‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.

‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.

‘take me, steve.’

he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds. 

‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.

steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.

‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-

‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.

‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’

you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’

he flopped on top of you, grinning.

‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.

‘and over.’ your shoulder.

‘and over.’ your nose.

‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’

[yoongis-black-grilfriend]

Crazy in Love

Summary: You enjoy taking care of a child with your boyfriend, Joe. Since he already had a son, you thought it best to wait to have one of your own. But Joe has other plans…

Warnings: This one is dark loves (beware). Hiding of birth control (and switching them out), Stalking, Jelousy, Forced Breeding, Bondage (handcuffs), Overstimulation, Pentrative Sex, Somnophila, Creampie, Descriptive Sex, and probably some more enjoy!

Y/n, my dear y/n, why must you attract attention everywhere you go? Why must you be so fucking beautiful? I watch as you walk around the Halloween store looking for a costume, and I've noticed that his eyes have been on you since you entered.

Who, you might ask? The clerk. The guy that is supposed to be doing his job instead of eyefucking with my son in your hands. You would think a baby would keep these assholes away, but they don’t. If anything, they make them worse. He must think you're a single mother in need of a man to fuck her because she hasn't been touched in so long.

He's wrong though. John, which I learned from reading his name tag, is so fucking wrong. He is still at his desk, yet it appears he is ready to make a move on you, my love. I walk over in my hat and glasses, feigning an interest in something.

“Hey man, do you know where I can find the masks?” He looks annoyed because he was just a moment away from tapping you on your shoulder and trying to take you away from me, and that is not going to happen. He looks annoyed, but I do not give one single damn.

I see you have found a costume. It's unfortunate that I was occupied with John over here and couldn't see it, but it's okay. I love surprises. You're now making your way home, and that's all that matters. John gives up once he sees you walking out of the store and rolls his eyes, pointing to the back of the store.

Now it is time for me to hurry home. With a smile, I make John's day even worse. “On second thought I think I might go to another store thank you buddy.” And he is off stomping back to his counter. Exiting the store, I enter my car and make my way home, back to you and henry.

The moment I walk through our door, I see you setting Henry in his highchair, getting him ready for lunch. I appreciate and adore you more and more every day because of the way you treat him like your own. As soon as you saw I was in the kitchen, you broke into a wide smile and instantly made my day.

“How was the Halloween store?” Even though I already know the answer, I still want to hear your gentle voice. “It was good, baby. I got us all costumes for your friend's costume party, we're going as the Flinstones.” You said, putting your soft lips in a kiss. I favor the moment as you slip your tongue in my mouth.

The kiss was about to turn into a make-out session until Henry started to babble when he finally spotted me. You break the kiss to look at him with the most perfect timing because your alarm for birth control goes off. You hurry off by giving me a peck on my cheek.

You are such a silly girl. Rushing off to go take your birth control. It’s a shame you don’t know that I have been swapping them out with pills that help you get pregnant. It's all a part of our future and I'm doing this for us.

I have already arranged for this to happen tonight so you can enjoy your last day of not being pregnant because this is definitely going to happen. Henry is almost through eating when you return to the kitchen and seat down next to me.

You pick up where you left off and start to eat the food that you prepared for Henry and yourself. I just can't help but notice how beautiful and breathtaking you look when you put the spoon to your lips, taking a bite out of your creation. The moan you let out when you taste it does something to me, something feral.

With each bite I watch as you lick your lips before they curve around the spoon. And it’s helpless for me to not imagine how they would feel against mine, so impossibly smooth. How velvety your tongue would feel licking up and down my- I am suddenly pulled from my thoughts as you stand to pick up a spoon henry dropped onto the floor. But just as quickly, I go back to them as I watch you bend down. I have to hold myself back from just taking you right there.

You return back to your meal. Once you've finished eating and clearing your dishes, you notice that Henry was done with his food as well. By this time, it was about 5 pm, which meant that Henery needed to be put down for a nap soon. I lift out of my chair, ready to clean him off, but you're always one step ahead of me. You order me to sit down before you take Henry to wash him off to lay him down.

You come back in about 10 minutes with a sheepish smile on your face. “He has been active all day, but I'm going to lay down a little bit. Do you want to come?” you asked me. How could I say no to a face like that? I nodded my head signally that I’ll take a nap with you as we made our way into our shared bedroom. You go to your dresser and I notice how you put on some shorts without any panties.

After you climb into bed and wait for me to join you, I take my shirt off and get into bed next to you, wrap my arms around you, bury your head in my chest, and immediately fall to sleep with light snores escaping your lips. I admire you while you sleep. How could I possibly not? I notice the way your chest rises and down. I can feel your nipples through the thin material of your shirt on my chest. I definitely can't help but notice your leg wrapped around mine. Every now and then you rub yourself against my leg and I feel myself harden under my sweatpants.

I let you sleep for at least an hour before I decide to make my move. I reach over and unlock my drawer, revealing two sets of handcuffs. I slowly push you to lay on your back. I take hold of your wrist and attach one pair to chain your wrist to the headboard before doing the same with the other. Grabbing a condom, I make sure to make as many holes I can with a tack before I turn my attention back to you.

Using my fingertips, I run them over your body as you still lay dead asleep. I pull your shorts to the side and pull my shorts off. I wrap my hands around my cock and fist it a couple of times. Collecting the precum on my fingers, I rub it onto your clit to give you some type of lubrication.

Rolling the condom onto my cock, I move in between your legs and enjoy the last few moments of your sleeping face before I move my cock inside of you slowly. You're still sleeping as I go inch by inch. I trust my hips slightly faster as I hold my groans in, not wanting to wake you up. The pleasure is way too strong right now. Even in your sleep your pussy fits around me like a tight sleeve.

You start to stir in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper. “Fuck”. That was music to my ears as I stroke faster feeling my cock twitch inside of you due to you and your damn walls clenching against me. “Fuck, y/n I could’nt resist, baby. You looked so fucking hot while you were sleeping, I couldn’t help myself,” I say as I notice you have woken up while you stare up at me, holding your moans back with your eyes glossy and mouth wide open.

“Joe, fuck” you whimpered. Your voice drives me to the edge, causing me to release along with you. The milk of my cum and it all going inside of you (little do you know). I pull out quickly, causing you to hiss at the loss of contact, and take the condom off, throwing it in the trash next to our bed. I can hear you breathing deeply as you close your eyes and process the orgasm you just had.

Once more, I slip between your legs and completely bury my cock inside of you. Your hands are raised over your head as you stare up at me, appearing as though your eyes would bulge out of your head. You are so fucking wet that I slip in and out of you quickly because of the ring of cum on my cock. “Baby your fucking me so good,” you say a little loudly. I cover your mouth with my hand as I feel you sob against it, still sensitive from your last orgasm.

Moving my hips faster, I pound into you as you cry. I can feel your tears on my palms and I see them coating your beautiful face. “Lovely, I’m about to cum again, are you with me?" I said, wanting to cum at the same time. You nod against my hand in reply. I detach my palm from your face. “Joe, make sure to pull out okay!” You say with a little desperation. “I will sweetheart don’t worry about it,” I say, knowing that I'm not. You clench around and start to shake as you start cuming on my cock. I can feel the warmth of your cum spread between us as I bottom out and cum so fucking deep inside of you.

“Baby I told you not to cum inside me!” you whine, highly upset, trying to free yourself of the handcuffs. “Calm down my sweet y/n, I have a plan b you can take.” I reassure myself knowing that the “plan b” that I’m going to give you is a sugar pill. We both put on our clothes and head out to check on Henry after I release you from the handcuffs and give you the pill. After seeing that he was okay we lay down and sleep for the rest of the night.

THE NEXT DAY

We at your friend's house and I were dressed as the flintstones as we walked around greeting everyone. You look so beautiful with your costume and carry Henry around in his I can't wait to see you pregnant walking around with Henry letting everyone know that you're mine.

After A while things started to wiehle down and we were all sitting around the couch playing games and watching movies. Until you aburty hand Henery off to one of your friends before you speed walk into the bathroom I follow you because I'm worried until I see you hunched over the toilet throwing up. I hold your hair back because I care about you and I care about us and our future together.

“Ugh I feel so horrible” you said sitting down on the bathroom floor catching your breath. “I’ll schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow so we can see what's going on” I said as you looked up at me with a smile. “Thank you babe. What would I do without you.” you explained putting flutters in my chest.

I’m happy that you see a glimpse of what I would do for you…

Austin! Elvis post will be posted tomorrow thank you for all the love you guys have been giving my imagine. I appreciate all of you 😭🫶🏾

[storiesforallfandoms]

i’m giving up this life ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 1996

request?: no

description: after his wife takes a bullet meant for him, tommy finds she was holding a secret from him, and that it is time for him to give up on the gangster lifestyle

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence

masterlist (one, two)

Tommy closed his eyes as the shot rang out. For once, he was prepared for whatever was coming, and he even started to silently ask for forgiveness in his next life.

However, the end didn’t come. There wasn’t even any pain that would’ve indicated he was shot. When he opened his eyes, he found his wife laying on the ground at his feet instead, a pool of blood growing around her.

The man who had attempted to kill Tommy was frozen in shock as he watched the infamous gang leader fall to his knees. He took his wife into his arms, cradling her as he frantically tied to stop the blood coming from her wound.

"Come on, love,” he begged. “Wake up, stay with me.”

Her skin was ice cold. Tommy’s hands were stained red within seconds of touching her wound. He was panicking, his mind wasn’t working properly.

Anger started to course through his veins, and in one quick motion, he pulled his gun and shot the man until he was riddled with bullet wounds. He scooped (Y/N) up in his arms and quickly carried her out of the room.

“Tommy!” Arthur called as Tommy emerged from the building. “What happened?”

“I don’t know where she came from,” Tommy said, still in a partial daze of anger and worry. “One minute it’s just me and him, the next I find (Y/N) in front of me after...she’s bleeding so much.”

Arthur opened the door of his car. “Get in, I’ll get us to the hospital.”

~~~~~~

The wait was agonizingly long. Tommy had begged to be in the room with (Y/N) as they operated on her, but the doctor was firm in having him wait in the waiting room. The Peaky Blinders may have had most officials in Birmingham under their thumb, but the doctors still held a certain level of professionalism no matter who their patients were.

Polly came to be with him while Arthur and the boys went to deal with the body Tommy had left behind. She was watching him pace back and forth in front of her. “Tommy, pleas sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

“How much longer till we hear something?” Tommy asked, ignoring his aunt. “They’ve been in there for so long.”

“It takes time, dear. They have to make sure she doesn’t have any complications and she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Why don’t they know yet?”

Polly sighed as Tommy finally sat next to her. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and struggled to light it. His hand was shaking so much the flame wouldn’t stay over the cigarette. She placed a more steady hand over Tommy’s and guided the light to the cigarette.

“She’ll be okay Tommy.”

Tommy was blinking back tears as he took a puff from his cigarette. “Why would she put herself in danger for me?”

Polly took Tommy’s hand in hers. “Love makes you do crazy things, and she loves you so much.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. Instead, he took another long puff off his cigarette.

(Y/N) was an angel; a kind woman with a heart of gold who was strong and unafraid of anyone or anything. Tommy could never understand what it was that made her fall in love with him, and he’d never understand how she could love him so much that she’d risk her life for him.

When the doctor emerged and called (Y/N)’s name, Tommy was standing within seconds. “Is she okay?”

“She will be after some rest,” the doctor told him. “She lost a lot of blood, but you got her here just in time. We managed to extract the bullet and stitch up her wound. They’ll both be just fine.”

“They?” Tommy asked.

“The baby.” Tommy’s eyes widened, which answered any questions the doctor had. “You didn’t know.”

Tommy was shocked into silence. He didn’t even know (Y/N) had suspected she was pregnant. If she had known. Maybe she didn’t, or else she would have told him, right?”

“Can he see her now?” Polly asked, coming to Tommy’s side.

“Of course,” the doctor responded. “Go on in, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy’s feet moved before his mind caught up with him. He found (Y/N) in her hospital bed, her eyes closed and the color slowly returning to her face.

He was almost afraid to touch her as he pulled a chair up next to her bed. She looked so fragile, like even a slight touch would cause her to shatter into pieces. He gently brushed her hair from her face, allowing his hand to linger against her face for a moment longer.

“I’m not worth this, love,” he whispered. “I deserved that bullet, not you. It was meant for me. I should be the one in this hospital bed.”

His hand moved from her face to her stomach, gently touching the spot where his child was growing inside of her.

“I didn’t even know. I continued to put your life in danger because of what I am, and because of that we almost lost our baby.”

With no one around to see him, Tommy let the tears freely run down his face.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was unconscious for a total of three days. Tommy did not leave her side for a single moment. Each of his family came to visit their sister-in-law, and to make sure Tommy was okay. Polly often brought food for him, knowing he wouldn’t eat otherwise.

The doctors continued to give (Y/N) a shot that was meant to help give the baby nutrients to grow while (Y/N) was unconscious. Every time someone came in to give her the shot, Tommy just wished she would finally open her eyes again, that she’d finally be okay to grow the child on her own.

Ada was the last to visit, bringing a small bouquet of flowers with her for (Y/N).

“How is she?” Ada asked, taking a seat in the chair next to Tommy.

“The doctors say she’s stable,” Tommy responded. “They say it’s only a matter of time until she wakes up.”

“She’ll wake up soon,” Ada assured him. “She’s a fighter, remember? A real Shelby.”

This managed to make Tommy chuckle slightly, the first time in days that he showed even the slightest positive emotion.

“I suppose Polly has told the family our surprise announcement,” he said, his eyes trailing back to (Y/N)’s stomach again.

“Only me,” Ada responded. “She figured you two would want to tell everyone when (Y/N) wakes up, but she also knew you’d need someone while she’s still out. Someone who doesn’t have a cock between their legs.”

Tommy smiled slightly again. Polly always knew what he needed, what they all needed. For the woman who never birthed them, she was truly their mother through and through.

“I’m terrified, Ada,” Tommy admitted. “Not of having the baby, but that what I do - who I am - is going to put that baby in danger. I’ve known for years I’m putting (Y/N) in danger, but she’s always insisted she doesn’t mind. It was her choice to be a part of this family and this life, but that baby didn’t get to choose. We’re forcing him into a life of danger, all because of me.”

Ada put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze, but she didn’t try to dispute him. Of course he was right, they all knew he was. Every Shelby man knew the risks of bringing a child into the world of the Peaky Blinders, even Ada knew when she gave birth to Karl. But for Tommy it was so much worse. Tommy wasn’t just a Shelby man, or just a member of the Peaky Blinders. He was their leader. He was the one with a massive target on his back constantly. He was the one their rivals would look to first to find a way to gain leverage over him - meaning they would look to (Y/N) and their baby first.

“I’m giving up this life, Ada,” Tommy said, the words coming out just as he made the decision in his head. “All of it, I’m giving it all up. The minute (Y/N) wakes up and is okay to leave the hospital, I’m taking her to the Garrison where we’ll announce she’s pregnant, and then I’m announcing my leave. Arthur can take over for me. Then, I’m taking (Y/N) as far away from Birmingham as I possibly can. Somewhere fit to raise our baby together.”

Ada was smiling at her brother. “I think that’s a perfect idea, Tommy.”

“Do you really mean it?”

The Shelby siblings looked over to see (Y/N) looking over at them, her eyes still blinking in an attempt to adjust to the bright hospital lighting.

Tommy jumped up from his seat and took (Y/N)’s face in his hands, kissing her face repeatedly. She giggled as he did so, before moving her head so he would kiss her lips. Ada stood as well, smiling down at her sister-in-law. “I’m glad you’re awake, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad you’re the first two I got to see,” (Y/N) responded. “Are those for me?”

“Yeah, I brought them,” Ada responded. “An assortment of your favorites. I figured this drab room needed something to brighten it up.”

(Y/N) smiled weakly. “Thank you, Ada. I really appreciate it.”

Ada gave (Y/N) a gentle hug before leaving her alone with Tommy. His touch was still gentle as he took her hand in his. She was still cold, but he was beginning to feel a slight warmth in her fingertips. It was almost like she was coming back to life all at once.

“I’m sorry I jumped in front of that bullet, Tommy,” she said. “Arthur tried to stop me from running into the building, but I knew what you were going to do and I just...I couldn’t let you...”

She trailed off, but Tommy knew what she meant; I couldn’t let the father of my child die.

“You have nothing to apologize for, love,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry I put you in danger, not just that time but all the times before as well. It’s not fair of me to keep doing this to you.”

“It’s your job, Tommy, and your family. I knew that when I married you.”

“But our baby didn’t know that when we created him.”

(Y/N)’s hand trailed to her stomach, the same way Tommy’s often had when he thought about the baby. “Is he okay?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tommy’s lips. “It is a boy?”

(Y/N) smiled back at him. “Oh, I don’t know, but I have a feeling. Your mum had three Shelby men before she had one girl, and Ada and John have only had boys so far. I figure it only makes sense that we’ll have one, too.”

Tommy brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles.

“Did you mean it, Tommy?” she asked again. “About giving up the Peaky Blinders?”

“I meant every word I said,” Tommy responded. “I almost lost you, (Y/N), and I’m not risking that again. I’m not risking losing our child, either. This life was not meant for families, and it’s best to get out before we bring a little one of our own into this world.”

(Y/N) was practically glowing at this news. While she supported Tommy with whatever decision he made, she’d be lying if she said the thought of bringing a child into his world hadn’t scared her. To hear him come to the decision to get out all on his own made her heart feel warm and made her feel happy.

“I love you so much, Tommy,” she said.

“I love you, too, (Y/N). Rest again, love. When you are cleared, we have a lot to tell the family.”

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.