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love4buckybarnes · 4 years ago

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HERE IN BROOKLYN

Summary: Stuck for the night in Brooklyn, New York, Y/N meets a stranger at the bar. At first it seemed like a one night stand, but the more time they spend together, the harder it is to let go.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. SMUT WARNING-unprotected sex, oral receiving male&female, and steamy hot.

A/N: hope you enjoy this one. I had a pleasure to writing this one. My inbox is open for anonymous requests.

“This can’t be happening right now!” Y/N exclaimed at the woman behind the desk. “When will the next flight be?”

This was the cherry on top of one of the worst weeks of her life. Her asshole of a boss sent her on a work trip to Brooklyn, New York, in the middle of winter. She worked as a marketing agent for a sales business. Earlier morning on this day, she pitched her strategies to a potential client. It was important because this was the last opportunity to prove herself to her boss. Unfortunately, they rejected her ideas and upon hearing the bad news, she was fired on the spot over the phone. So, here she was at the airport only trying to get back home.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do,” the check-in clerk apologized to calm the frantic woman the best she could. “Because of the oncoming storm, all flights have been canceled until further notice. We will post new flights once we feel it’s safe.” She turned her attention elsewhere to help another customer.

Y/N stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, before storming away. “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

White powder fell from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. Icy, bitter air nipped at any exposed skin. Y/N could see the fog of her frustrated breaths. She tightened the thick coat around her as the snow quickened its pace. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the cold. Everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Finally, after waiting in the freezing snowfall, the headlights of the cab appeared in the distance.

• • • • •

Bucky laid there on the couch in his living room, listening to the low hum of the TV. All he wanted was to get some much-needed sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, instead of darkness, he would see memories of his past fill his mind. He’s seen a therapist. Any progress he makes, the doubts that whispered in his head held him back. It wasn’t going to be that easy, he knew that. Nothing he could do can change or erase what he’s done.

Instead of some shut-eye he grabbed his coat, and he found himself wandering outside in the cold. He made his way to the local bar down the street.

Bucky took a sip of the bitter liquid that calmed his nerves. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he still enjoyed the taste and the burn in his throat. With enhanced hearing, his ears picked up the faint sound of boots walking to where he was sitting. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman sit down next to him.

“3 shots please,” she requested to the bartender, voice distressed. She choked one down as soon as they have been set down in front of her.

His head cocked to the side to get a better look. Her beauty struck him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Bloodshot eyes met his briefly. He noted the puffiness around the fragile skin as if she had been crying.

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He leaned over, so she could hear him over the loud music and voices. “Rough night?”

The second shot glass was raised up and she paused, looking at him. “Could be better,” she replied dryly. The clear liquid passed her lips. She cringed at the taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, mine too.” He took another sip of his beer. “Are you from around here?”

She shook her head. “I’m here for a business, or was,” she explained. “My boss fired me today because I didn’t get the contract... I was supposed to fly back home tonight until they canceled the flight. So now I’m here.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up at what she said. “Yeah. You’re night is much worse than mine. I’m sorry. That definitely sucks.” He swiveled the stool around that he sat on to face her and stuck out his human arm. “I’m Bucky.”

She looked down at his hand, hesitant at first, before placing hers in his. “Y/N.” She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him, she recognized him. “Wait a second, you’re the Winter Soldier. I’ve watched you on the news.” Y/N found him attractive. The long dark hair she’s seen him with on TV was cut short, and he had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen.

Not being used to people recognizing him, he looked away. He was mostly afraid they would judge him for the bad things he did, instead of the good. “Which side of me have you seen?”

Y/N frowned at this. “Both. I like the good Bucky.” She drank down the last shot.

Bucky went to say something else but tensed up when her arm reached out, a hand grabbing on to his. Normally, he would freak out whenever someone touched him out of nowhere. That was then, so he relaxed.

She tugged on him. “We should go dance. This is my favorite song.”

At first, he stalled, staying in his seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t really dance.”

Y/N ignored his protests and continued to drag him on to the dance floor. She stumbled on her own feet, feeling fuzzy from the alcohol.

Bucky was a bit uncertain, but he followed her anyway. She swayed her hips to the beat with a grin on her face. He stood there, not knowing what to do, nor did he have any intentions to join her. That was until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. On instinct, he placed his hands on her waist. He decided he needed to loosen up and live a little, mimicking her movements.

Y/N had a boost of confidence from the booze running through her veins. She pushed herself up on to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips on to his.

For a second he was frozen in shock. A rush of something unexplainable came over him, telling him to kiss her back. His palms moved to each side of her face as the kiss deepened. “Want to get out of here?” he asked against her lips. Y/N nodded, and that’s all it took for Bucky to lead her back out into the cold.

• • • • •

As soon as they made it inside of his apartment, she was against the wall, Bucky hot on her tail. Their mouths locked in an intense kiss. Bucky kicked the door closed with his foot as he moved his mouth roughly against hers. His human-hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her hips to brush against him. Y/N panted for breath when he tore away to pepper her exposed neck with kisses, her head lolling to the side to give him better access.

Bucky had a sudden sense of nerves, causing him to pause his pursuit. “To be honest, I haven’t done this in a long time.” The words he spoke came out in shaky whispers.

She looked at him in a dazed way, her eyes filled with lust. “Do you want to stop?”

To answer her question, Bucky kissed her again. His tongue that wove into her accepting mouth found hers, and they danced together. He hoisted her up by her thighs, her legs wounding themselves around him. By the time they reached his bedroom, most of Y/N’s clothes were thrown every which way, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Bucky’s mouth made a trail from her lips to her neck. His lips traveled further down to find the curve of one of her breasts. With ease, he popped the clasp of the undergarment and tossed it behind him. Y/N arches at the warmth of his tongue flicking against her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth. Teeth grazed the swollen bud while his hand massaged the other.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, breaking the silence. She gripped the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his arms to assist her.

For a second Bucky’s insecurities got to him and closed his eyes tight, scared of what she’ll think of his metal arm. But all his fears washed away when she didn’t even acknowledge it, pulling him closer towards her. Y/N’s hand found the zipper to his jeans and he kicked them off, his briefs following in the same direction.

He hooked his hands, one on her hip and one on her thigh. Before she knew it, she felt the dip of the bed under her weight as she sunk into the sheets. Their bodies pressed ever so close together, skin to skin. Lips locked, his fingers lacing into her hair. Once again, he let his lips wonder her body until they reached the spot where she wanted to feel them the most.

Hot breath brushed against her clothed core. A cool sensation ran along her slit. Without a warning, her thong was torn off. Light feather kisses littered the inside of her thighs.

A breathy moan seeped out when she finally felt his wet mouth encase her pussy. He suckled on the bundle of nerves. The flat of his tongue licked up in a slow motion. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. The cold feeling came back. She shivered in response as it pressed its way into her entrance. She twitched and writhed under his touch.

Tension rose inside her as she was reaching her peak. At the sound of her moans and motions of her squirming, the movements of his tongue on her clit quickened its pace. His metal fingers moved in a rhythmic motion inside her. She screamed out his name. Her orgasm washed into his mouth, and he sucked her clean.

Bucky crawled back up and kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips exciting her. She flipped them over, wanting to return the favor. Without wasting time, she took his rather large length in her mouth. Tongue flicked and circled around the head.

“Shit baby. That feels incredible,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands found themself tangled into her hair.

She bobbed up and down, massaging his balls. He quivered at the sensations he was feeling. Before he could let go just yet, he pulled her up and was back on top, his knee spreading her legs apart.

They shuddered in unison when the tip of his groin brushed against her entrance. Not being able to contain it any longer, he shoved the rest of his dick all the way inside as far as it could go. He groaned in pleasure at her wetness.

Bucky went slowly at first. He wanted to avoid hurting her, but she urged him to speed up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, crying in ecstasy. His breath fanned over the side of her face and bare skin.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he growled out in a hungry tone. He pounded in to her in fierce strokes. She felt extraordinary against him.

“Me too,” she moaned out, her eyes rolling back.

They both let out a series of almost animalistic moans, the rush of their release sending them into complete bliss. Bucky collapsed on top of her, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush her. He rolled to one side of the bed. Y/N followed him, her arm and leg slung over his torso. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping his arms around her too. The two laid there breathless, like they had the wind knocked out of them.

• • • • •

“Careful, it’s hot,” Bucky warned her, handing her a mug of steaming hot tea. He took a seat next to her on the couch with a cup for himself.

“Thanks.” She sighed at the warmth the mug gave off to her hands, the heat soothing her insides. They were fully dressed and shared a large blanket that bundled around them.

The rest of the night was spent sat on the couch together, talking and getting to know each other. Y/N spoke about small bits of her life, and he told her some things he remembered before he became the Winter Soldier, back when Captain America was his best friend. Soon enough, they both drifted off to sleep against each other. And for once, rather than nightmares, Bucky had pleasant dreams.

The weather cleared up the next day. Bucky and Y/N spent most of it wondering around Brooklyn. He showed her around to some of his favorite places.

Bucky quickly grew fond of Y/N. He felt at ease around her, which is something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Was it crazy to say it is love at first sight? The things he was feeling, he wished it would never go away. Everything about her made him crave and want more. The little quirks she did like her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled. And when she got shy, she would play with her hair. Y/N’s presence enticed him. The usual worries, the negative thoughts, and all else that beat at Bucky daily went away.

Y/N sensed it too. She saddened more when the day went by. Being around Bucky, she felt light on air as if she was floating and like she was on Cloud 9. There was something in her that was begging her to stay. It told her not to board that flight and go home. But she was afraid of being vulnerable so fast. She was also not used to change.

Later on, they found themselves at a park. Both sat down on a bench, watching families play on the snow and people all around them.

Bucky turned to her. Those steel-blue eyes that were starting to tug on the strings of her heart held sadness. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, his voice gloomy.

Y/N thought for a moment. She almost wanted to say no. “I should get back home.”

“Or you could stay,” he pushed. “You’d like it here and would be happier here. It’s New York. There are opportunities here, you could find a better job, and there’s me.”

Something rubbed her the wrong way. She stood up, whirling around to face him. “You only met me last night, and you already think you know what’s best for me?”

He was taken aback at her outburst. His hands went up in a defensive stance. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry that you thought that. I just don’t want this to end.”

“You’re just being selfish. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls that you could pick up at the bar that I’m sure would be happy to have sex with you,” Y/N snapped out. Her own words surprised her. As soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them.

Bucky was confused at her words. “You assume that I picked you up at the bar just for sex? Is that what you think all of this was? And hey by the way, you’re the one who came on to me.”

Y/N jabbed at his chest. “Yeah, well, I was upset and had a bit to drink. I didn’t think it would go any further than this.” She wasn’t even upset at him. She honestly didn’t know why she was mad. Maybe it was the fact that .

The commotion stirred attention from a couple of bystanders as they watched the scene unfold.

“I’m not just some guy that uses girls. That’s not me at all,” he retorted back, standing up too.

Y/N became distraught and emotional. Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “It shouldn’t have gone further than it has. I’m supposed to move here all because you got caught in your feelings? Well, I did too. We have to say goodbye.”

“But it doesn’t have to end now. I feel something for once in the longest time.” Bucky felt his stomach turn. His fists balled at his side, clenching and unclenched.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she croaked out. “I can’t stay. I can’t change everything suddenly for you when we just met.” She turned on her heels and ran off, hurrying down the park. She waved down a nearby taxi.

Bucky just stood there watching what could be the start of his life drive away. The cab disappeared, and his head lowered. He felt stupid. He knew he was in the wrong. She had every right to feel and think like she did. At first, he thought about just forgetting it and going home. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let it go. “Fuck!” he blurted out loudly, scaring the surrounding individuals. He raced down the street and flagged down a taxi as well.

Y/N grabbed her stuff from the conveyor belt. She got there just in time. The plane that will take her home had just landed. Her mind was swirling with many emotions. She felt the guilt eat away at her for being mad at Bucky. She couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much. All he wanted was something good for once. She also wanted it so badly too. But her life isn’t here. She wasn’t about to put it on hold.

Before she could make another step forward, she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Y/N recognized it as the metal arm that belonged to Bucky. He spun her around. She went to speak, but lost her train of thought when a pair of lips came crashing down on hers.

A few seconds into the kiss, Bucky pulled away. He placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes said everything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to change your life. You’re right. I was being selfish. I just, I felt different around you. For once, when I’m around you I was at peace. All the worries and darkness that I have, is pushed aside. It felt so good to have a sense of freedom from the constant battle I have everyday. I didn’t want to lose that.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes at his confession. His thumbs quickly swept them away. “I’m sorry too, for getting mad at you. I let my emotions and doubts get to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m so grateful that I make you feel that way.”

He kissed her again, this time it was soft and full of promises. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, hopeful.

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, Bucky. I promise.”

They shared one last kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye. It meant see you soon.

Y/N kept that promise.

• • • • •

She leaned against the window, looking out. The plane has just landed. Y/N gleamed with happiness and excitement. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to JFK Airport. It is 7:43 pm and 60 degrees out.’

Her happy thoughts drowned out the rest of what the captain was saying. It was the end of March. The snow has melted away. Here she was, back in New York.

Bucky sat at the bar, beer in hand. His mind wandered with delight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today and yesterday. Mid-sip, his extraordinary hearing, his ears perked up at the sound of heels approaching him.

“Rough night?”

His lips curved up in a grin. That voice was something he was impatiently waiting to hear again. Setting the bottle down, he swung around. There she was. The woman who has not left his mind ever since they met stood right in front of him.

“Actually, my night just became even better,” he spoke. The grin on his face broke out into the dorkiest smile.

Y/N’s matched his. “I have some good news to share.”

He arched his brow in response.

She sat down on the stool next to him. “I got an internship,” she began to say. “And if they like me enough, a permanent job. Here in New York to be exact.”

Bucky’s heart swelled, as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He reached over and kissed her. Oh, how much he missed those addicting lips. He pulled away. “That is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, Doll.”

“The good thing is that the people I’m working with I’ve personally worked with in the past,” she said. “So it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Well, we need to celebrate. How about I take you on a proper date?”

Y/N’s heart soared. “I can’t say no to that.”

This was the beginning of a new start for both of them, together.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #avengers #marvel #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes imagines #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #wintersoldier #winter solider imagine #imagines #smut #sebastian stan #avengers smut

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t-lostinworlds · 5 years ago

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My Best Girl (Tom Holland)

a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet yet here we are asdfghjkl i mean it’s still short but 2k isn’t necessarily a blurb ahah. this was written fairly quick but i hope you guys still enjoy it!

pairing: tom holland x female!reader trope/genre: slight angst & fluff summary: You hear people gossip in the bathroom about how Tom looks so good and how you basically don’t reach his level. warnings: not proofread, tom being a wholesome boyfriend, slightly steamy ending word count: 2.3k+ requested:

prompts: ~ “Talk to me.” ~ “You deserve so much better.”

masterlist in bio & pinned post

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Galas or fancy parties have never been your thing, especially when they're littered with too many celebrities. Some of them are nice of course, sweet and kind, but some are a bit much, stuck in their own little bubble of fame. It was just the constant thing of one upping each other, who has the most expensive dress, which island did they visit just recently, whose yacht were they invited to, and so on.

It was not your crowd, at all. Yet here you were in a floor-length, black sleeveless dress, a V-neckline to match the low back and a high slit to show off your leg and your silver heels. The fabric was hugging you in all the right places while a strong arm was wrapped around your waist, warm fingers sometimes grazing the skin on the small of your back as you smile at this well-known producer who your boyfriend just introduced you to.

Your boyfriend who happens to be world renowned actor, Tom Holland.

"I need to use the bathroom," you whispered into Tom's ear, the lad cutting his conversation off briefly to meet your gaze, a charming smile on his lips and a loving glow in his eyes.

"Okay. I'll be right here," he hummed, giving your cheek a sweet kiss and your waist a gentle squeeze before he lets you go.

After asking around the staff for a minute you've finally reached the bathroom. You pushed the door open to find it completely empty which was a relief. You just didn't want to deal with any more gossiping or encounter any more "high class" people. You went inside one of the stalls and locked the door shut. Although, you didn't get a chance to even do your business when you heard three pairs of heels click against the tiled floor. You wouldn't have entertained it until they started to exchange words about a certain man.

"Have you seen how good Tom Holland looked?" one of them said, a sense of pride coursing through you because your man does look so good tonight, that until the same girl spoke again. "Do you think I could snatch him up for tonight?"

"Well he's got his girlfriend attached to his hip so your chances are close to none," a second voice spoke.

"That was his girlfriend?" the first one gasped exaggeratedly.

"No way, I thought it was his PA," a third girl said with a laugh.

"What a shame, he deserves someone who can actually match him," the first girl sighed.

"Someone who at least could afford a proper designer dress," the third one said.

All three of them laughed at that.

"I bet I could still get his number despite the girlfriend. I could just get him alone," the first one hummed, giggling to herself as if it was the best things she's said in her life.

Finally having enough, you fixed up your dress, took a deep breath to calm yourself before opening the stall door and walking out with your chin up. All three sets of eyes followed you as they immediately quieted down. Only brave behind the back, always cowards face to face.

You shot them each a wide smile through the mirror as you turned the faucet on to wash your hands. The three of them tried to return it but their lips only twitched as they stared at you in shock.

"With all the classy make-up and elegant dresses you'd think it would at least taint your personalities no? Be ladies with a bit of class and elegance but huh," you paused, rinsing off the soap and then turning the water off before grabbing some paper towels to dry of your hands. "What a shame," you tutted with a shake of your head, shooting them a sympathetic smile through the mirror. None of them spoke a single word as you threw away the paper towel and started towards the door with your head held high.

Before you grabbed the door handle, you turned back to them with a tight lip smile. "Oh, and this dress is worth more than all of you combined with how cheap your personalities are." You pulled the door open, though stopped midway through the doorway to look at them over your shoulder. "Words of advice, try and go for the single men, ladies, and maybe you'll get lucky. Although not guaranteed if you're a bit...desperate. Have a great night. I know I will, especially later with my man," you said with a smirk, throwing them a wink at the end of your sentence to properly get the point across.

But the moment you stepped out of the bathroom you felt your knees weaken, breathing turning heavy, tears burning in your orbs as you tried your best to keep them at bay until you were out from prying eyes. The words they've said have always been sitting in the back of your head, how Tom could leave you so quickly for someone who was up to his level. Someone more gorgeous, someone with a high status, someone who could actually match him in terms of looks and just overall fame. And hearing those words be said out loud, to hear them from actual strangers, it only makes them more real, the insecurities that's always been nagging in your brain. It only makes them more painful.

You rushed back out into the ballroom, holding your composure as best as you could. Tom was still in his place as promised, talking to the same person he did just minutes ago before you went and excused yourself.

"Tom," you croaked out when you got to him, not meaning your voice to sound weak the way it did. But it was already too late for you to try again when your boyfriend's eyes immediately snapped to look at you. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, one change in the tone of your voice and he immediately will notice that something was up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked as he turned to face you fully, his hand coming up to cup your cheek so you had no choice but to look at him in the eyes. Tom's worry only grew some more when he saw your orbs glossed up with tears, features coated by nothing but utter panic.

"I'm going to go ahead and get back to the hotel room," you whispered. "You can stay—"

"No, if you want to go, then we're going now," he said firmly.

"But—"

Tom didn't give you any time to finish your sentence when he turned back to the producer he was talking to. "I'm so sorry but we need to get going. It was nice meeting you sir. I'll have my agent send you the details. Thank you so much," Tom said, offering his hand out to which the man shook with a smile, not at all minding that their conversation got cut short.

And with that, Tom took your hand in his and swiftly but gently guided you out of the ballroom.

"You didn't have to leave with me," you muttered as you both made your way back to the elevators, thankful that your hotel room was in the same building.

"No, but I wanted to. The night was getting long anyway," Tom reassured with a squeeze of your hand.

You stayed silent on the way up and even after you're inside the room. Tom's frown could only deepen when you sat at the edge of the bed with a shaky breath.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" he asked as he locked the door. You ignored him completely, hands gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress, keeping your head down as you tried to keep your breathing steady and your raging thoughts at bay, but much to no use.

"Talk to me," Tom said softly, frown deep on his lips as he slowly moved over to your shaking form. He crouched down in front of you, hands landing on your knees as he searched for your eyes but all you did was hide your face behind your palms. "Darling," he tried again, but still, you didn't even bother looking up.

Tom took it upon himself to pry your hands gently away from your face and letting his fingers intertwine with yours. His heart broke when you looked at him with nothing but utmost sadness and hurt, tears running freely down your cheeks as you whispered,

"You deserve so much better."

"Okay, who the fuck told you that," Tom growled, but you only frowned deeply at his reaction because you knew, with one look in his eyes that his anger wasn't directed at you. It was at whoever planted that thought inside your head.

"No one—"

"Y/N," Tom warned.

"Nobody told me it directly. I just heard some girls in the bathroom saying how much you're way out of my league and how I looked like some assistant when I'm beside you and they are right Tom. I can't wear any designer clothes or any expensive dresses to look at least presentable when I'm with you. I can't match how handsome you are because I look nothing like those models or those actresses—"

"Darling, have you even seen yourself tonight?" Tom cut you off, shaking his head in disbelief as he furrowed his brows. "Have you seen how many guys I've been trying to wave off of you? Have you ever wondered why I've never let you go even in the slightest? Why I kept an arm around you or a hand on your back at all times?"

You shook your head no with a frown, not really getting where he was going with this.

"Babe, you stole the whole room! They were so drawn to you all the damn time like fucking moths to a flame and I was getting so fucking annoyed at them for always staring at you like that," Tom said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself before his gaze landed back on you. He flashed you a bright, genuine smile as he gave your hand a squeeze. "But I also felt so proud because fuck yeah, look at how fucking gorgeous my girlfriend is. Look at how lucky I am to have her with me and guess what? Get wrecked 'cause all you lot can do is stare at her while I get to hold her in my arms and call her mine."

You didn't have a chance to response when Tom suddenly stood up to his full height, pulling you with him and away from the bed as he walked backwards. You followed him with brows furrowed in confusion, but he only flashed you a charming grin.

"To be honest you're the one who's way out of my league, I mean look at you," Tom paused just as he stopped moving, stepping to the side until you were face to face with yourself in the floor length mirror. "Look how fucking beautiful you are! Those girls are just jealous because my god love, you make my fucking heart explode!" he exclaimed, gesturing towards your reflection in the mirror. You tilted your head at him with a pout, fresh sets of tears coating your eyes but for a different reason this time. Tom sighed as he moved back to stand in front of you, one hand landing on your hips as the other went on your cheek.

"I don't deserve someone better you know why?" he hummed, brown eyes boring into your own. "Because you are already the best girl I could ever have in my life." Tom pressed his forehead against yours, giving your hip a loving squeeze before he lifted his hand up so he could cup your face lovingly with both hands. "You are my best, most gorgeous and amazing girl with a heart of gold to match. I couldn't possibly find someone better than you my love and fuck whoever thinks otherwise," he finished, nothing but utmost sincerity coating his voice and swimming in his eyes, words doing nothing but make you heart grow ten times its size.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him all teary eyed, leaning even closer until you were able to capture his lips in yours, to let him feel through the kiss just how grateful you are of him. Tom hummed at the feeling, his hands sliding down your bare arms until he rested them on the small of your back, welcoming your kisses as he pulled you even closer to him.

"I love you," you whispered against his lips, fingers getting lost in his styled hair, tugging at them playfully making him let out a soft groan.

"And I love you so much, darling," he muttered, giving your bottom lip a soft nibble before he suddenly pulled away. One you met his eyes again, that's when you saw how they were already a shade darker than before.

Tom shot you a wide smirk before he pulled away completely, walking around you until he stood right behind, one hand taking home on your waist as the other went to hold your chin gently, turning your head to look back in front so you were once again face to face with yourself, right in the mirror.

He met your eyes through the floor-length mirror, his grin wide and mischievous as he ran his fingers down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. You suck in a breath as he took hold of the zip on your dress right as he sucked on that sweet spot on your neck he's already memorized. He pulled the zip down gently, the fabric going lose around your body as you kept eye contact with him through the mirror. Tom hooked his fingers on the straps of your dress, slowly pulling them off your shoulders and down your arms until it pooled at your feet, exposing you to the cold air of the room. With his voice deep and husky, Tom growled lowly against your ear,

"Now, enough talk and let me show you just how beautiful you are."

~~~

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writersmorgue · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare Material

15+ for graphic descriptions of violence, blood, and gore

can be read as slash or platonic

not proofread

“SHUT UP DEKU! OH MY GOD, CAN YOU BE QUIET FOR FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?!”

The common room goes silent.

“Woah, Bakubro, he just asked if you were busy,” Kirishima chuckles nervously.

Katsuki looks over to Deku who, as expected, already has tears welling in his eyes.

“Shitty crybaby, of course I’m busy can’t you fuckin’ see? Go bother someone who cares.”

Deku sniffles like the pathetic little child that he is, and nods, “Ok Kacchan.”

“Fuckin’ annoying ass-” Katsuki mutters, ignoring the glares as he stomps out of the room. Taking the stairs two at a time before slamming the door shut behind him, imagining the flinches of his classmates as he does so.

Fuck that fucking nerd, always looking down at him. Asking him for help on math of all things, when he fuckin’ knows that’s Katsuki’s worst subject. Fuck him.

The little shit shouldn’t even be here, he’s not on Katsuki’s level. Just gonna get himself killed.

After a few minutes of grumbling into his pillow, there’s a knock at Katsuki’s door, followed by a meek, “Blasty?”

He groans dramatically and flops over onto his back, propelling himself up with a few controlled explosions.

“Fuckin’ what-” He swings the door open and comes face to face with the entire idiot squad.

Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari all stand in front of him, Sero nervously wringing his hands, Kaminari avoiding eye contact, and Kirishima giving him a look.

Mina steps to the front of them, patting Kirishima’s shoulder as she does so.

“Blasty, you really gotta stop.” She stares him straight in the eyes, not backing down no matter how hard he glares.

“Stop fuckin’ what.”

Kirishima places a hand on Mina’s chest, stalling her step forward into Katsuki’s space. “You know what, Bakugo.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Oh please, like the little shit can’t handle some yelling. I’ve seen discount hot topic make his ears bleed-”

“This isn’t about Jirou. This is about you. You need to sort your shit out.” Sero’s frowning, a rare sight.

“Oh?” Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, “Or what?”

There’s a tense silence before Kaminari sniffs. “Or- or we won’t be your friends anymore!!” He stutters, bottom lip wobbling.

The rest of the group nods, one by one giving him a last glance.

Katsuki stands there for a few minutes, mainly thinking, but also fuming

How dare they treat him like that, like trash. He’s not trash, and he’s not the bad guy. He’s just trying to save Deku before it’s too late. Stupid idiot won’t last a day in the hero business, even with his new freak quirk. All it’s good for is hurting the nerd.

“Stupid Deku and his stupid protection squad, fuckin’ blind idiots.” He grumbles, slamming the door and returning to his lair.

He changes his clothes, resigning himself to finishing his weekend at the gym instead of on next week’s homework.

Bakugo stomps through the common room on the way to their practice room, a few of his classmates shoot him glares but he’s ignored for the most part. Something noticeably purposeful since he’s not exactly being quiet. Even Kirishima refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Yeah, that hurts.

He runs for two hours, lifts for one, and finishes with core for thirty minutes before his post-workout cooldown ritual. Thoroughly satiated and tired to the bone, he heads back to his dorm. Ignored this way too, he doesn’t bother saying goodnight to anyone. Not that he would usually. Not that he misses Ashido’s “Night blasty!!” on his way up the stairs.

He doesn’t give a shit.

He scrubs at his body with his last bits of energy and brushes his teeth half dead on his feet. Exhausted, he flops down on his bed and passes out almost immediately.

…

Someone’s screaming.

Katsuki lunges toward Shigaraki, whose hand barely grazes Izuku’s neck.

Izuku? When did he ever call the nerd something other than-

“DEKU!!!” Oh, he was the one screaming. He blasts himself forward and pushes Izuku out of the way, his dusted skin flaking off into the breeze as green hair skids to a stop on the ground below.

“Damn BRAT-” Shigaraki mutters, angrily scrunching his hand in mid-air before turning his attention to Katsuki. “YOU.” He points a cracked, pointed finger at Katsuki.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it old man?” He snorts, preparing his arms to blast again, he can feel the resistance from his last jump.

“You saved the little shit,” Shigaraki mutters to himself, nails dragging roughly down his neck, “must have a relationship, must be close to my enemy. Must die-”

Katsuki raises his hand, palms crackling in defiance, but he’s geared to go anyway.

Nothing happens.

“Fuck goddamnit!” His one fucking chance to get a drop on the guy and he’s out of juice? Fucking really?!

He’s so caught up in his fury he doesn’t notice the mad glint in the enemy’s eye. The way he smiles brokenly, bloody tongue barely peeking out.

“Poor little hero.” He mutters.

Katsuki jerks his head up just in time to see five fingers inches away from his face.

Well, this was fun.

“KATSUKI-” There’s pressure on his side and he falls, belatedly realizing he was pushed out of the way.

He looks hits the ground hard, hearing the reverberated snap of his ankle as it breaks.

“FALL HERO!! FALL BEFORE ME! YOUR NEW GO-”

Shigaraki falls to the ground as Todoroki whacks him over the head with a piece of rebar.

HIs normally stoic expression is frantic, he’s got fresh tears streaking down his face, and his forehead is covered in dried blood.

He tears his eyes away from the downed villain as Kirishima comes to cuff him, and screams in anguish at the sight of Izuku- Something Katsuki is still trying to wrap his head around.

A startled, almost pained sound escapes Katsuki as he half limps, half runs towards his best friend.

...best friend?

“IZUKU!”

Izuku has long since crumbled to his knees, clutching what remains of the left side of his face. Still slowly crumbling away. Blood pours down his arm and neck, making it difficult to see, but the sight of his eye frantically widening as Katsuki sits next to him is enough.

He removes his hand and sobs, throwing himself onto Katsuki.

“Eih- hgo-” He chokes, blood soaking Katsuki’s own suit as he rocks them both.

“Shh, it’s okay, Izuku.” He whispers, making eye contact with a sobbing Todoroki, who nods in approval.

“Izuku you’re gonna be fine.” The shock has yet to remove itself from Katsuki’s voice, and his words are filled with cracks and sobs, but he hopes it’s what Izuku needs.

“Aa- aah” Izuku’s broken kacchan followed by a fresh flow of blood down Katuski’s neck.

“I love you, Izuku. It’s gonna be alright.”

Izuku whimpers, clutching onto the blond’s neck for dear life.

And then he goes limp.

Katsuki’s eyes bug out, and he pulls Izuku arm’s length away. The gruesome sight that greets him is one he’ll never forget.

Izuku’s left eye hangs loosely down the side of his mangled cheekbone and jaw. Katsuki can see teeth starting to crumble as the decay works its way through his face. His nose is completely exposed, with no flesh left. No cute freckles. No scrunch when he smiles. And his other eye, possibly the worst part, stares lifelessly at Katsuki. The last remnants of tears make their way down his face.

He looks… terrified.

He died scared in the arms of his abuser. Someone who never even apologized to him. For fucking anything. Some vile part of Katsuki reminds him.

He saved me because I couldn’t do my fucking job.

He thrusts Izuku’s lifeless body into Shouto’s arms, who lets out a heartwrenching sob. Katsuki scrambles back, and can vaguely register the sound of pink cheeks vomiting behind him.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-” becoming increasingly more desperate with each utterance of the word, “FUCK!” Kirishima comes up behind him, picking him off the dust-covered ground and holding him to his chest. “This is all my fault!!!” He wails, “He fucking saved me, I couldn’t- this isn’t right no no NO-”

“Shhhh Katsuki-” Eijirou soothes him through his own tears, always the constant in Katsuki’s life. Well, after Deku.

Deku Deku Deku.

Dead Deku.

Because of you.

Katsuki takes another good look at Deku’s face where Shouto had freaked and discarded him on the ground. The unnatural bend of his arms, the bloody drool escaping his parted- if you can even call that a mouth anymore, his eyes.

And he screams.

He screams and he screams and he screams until someone shakes him so hard he wakes up.

Wait-

“BAKUGO!!! WAKE UP PLEASE-” Shitty hair screams at him, shaking his shoulders desperately as he thrashes in his sheets.

He stills, staring up at Kirishima with a shocked expression.

“Wh-”

“You were having a nightmare,” Kirishima explains, gasping for breath like he just ran a marathon.

Katsuki looks to the doorway where half of the boys in their class stand, expressions varying from worried to shocked.

He looks back at Kirishima, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat, “It- it wasn’t real?”

Katsuki looks to the door, half expecting to see Izuku there.

Missing an ear, you can see his tongue through his cheek.

Katsuki gulps, “Where’s Izuku?” He murmurs into the quiet room.

“Izuku?” Someone in the hallway mutters.

“Uh,” Kirishima catches himself before he can say something dumb, “Izu?- Uh- Midoriya is probably in his room. Didn’t think you’d want him here, but he knows. You kinda woke up the whole dorm.”

Kirishima has barely finished the sentence before he’s jumping out of bed, pajamas be damned, and sprinting toward the stairs. When he gets to Izuku’s floor he makes a hard right, Icyhot shouting something about being nice behind him.

Katsuki can yell at him later.

Running gives him time to think, and the more Katsuki thinks the more he realizes that his nightmare might as well have been a prophecy. Izuku would pull some martyr shit like that, but it was only Katsuki’s fault in the first place that he was put in that situation. He’s the only one to blame. Izuku had done everything right, and Katsuki managed to fuck it up.

Hollow socket, tendons hanging, blood turning his green suit a muddied brown.

Katsuki knocks on the door frantically, scared about what he’ll see when Izuku answers.

There’s some rustling from inside before Izuku peeks out, green curls messy from sleep.

“Wh- I thought Aoyama said you were having a nightmare.” His eyebrows furrow.

“I was,” Katsuki breathes, taking in how whole his rival is. “But it wasn’t real.”

He reaches out hesitantly and brushes an unruly lock of green out of Izuku’s left eye.

“Everything’s where it should be-” He chuckles almost in bewilderment.

He drags his fingers gently down Izuku’s cheek, tracing where the decay had rotted away skin, now whole.

A few of the classmates who followed him gasp in surprise when Katsuki clutches Izuku’s shoulders and buries his face in soft green hair. Completely breaking down as he sobs.

Izuku freezes, terrified of ruining the moment, even though he really wants to ask someone what the fuck is happening.

He gives Kirishima a questioning look as he hesitantly rubs along Katsuki’s back.

The redhead just shrugs.

“I’m sorry Izuku.”

Aaaand the damn breaks.

Izuku sobs as Katsuki clutches him tighter, their friends begin to awkwardly back out of the hallway after witnessing whatever that was.

“Wh- Kacchan?” He pulls away reluctantly, but he needs to see Katsuki’s face.

The blond’s eyes are red and puffy, same as his cheeks, but he’s dead serious.

“I’m so fucking sorry. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, you’re a really good guy.” He heaves in a breath, “And- I know you’ll be a great hero someday.”

“Kacchan… why?”

Katsuki looks away, “I just- thought about some things,” He doesn’t mention that the thinking involved seeing his classmate’s bloodied corpse, “realized how full of myself I am. You really did just want help on that math homework, huh?” He huffs, shaking his head at his past self.

“I did. What else would I have wanted?”

Katsuki sniffs, angrily rubbing at his eyes, “I don’t know, Izuku. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Izuku smiles sadly, “All I’ve ever wanted is to be your friend, Kacchan.

The blond nods, “Yeah, I think I see that now. Can- can we still do that? Be friends?”

Izuku beams, rubbing his own tears away and pulling Katsuki into another tight hug.

“There’s nothing I want more, Katsuki.”

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waiting4inspiration · 5 years ago

Text

The Chase II (Alpha!Bjorn x Omega!reader)

Summary: After being claimed by Bjorn, he takes you back to your town that had been already raided by his brothers. After reuniting with your sister and Bjorn accepting her into his family, you decide to explore another side with your new mate. A Viking side

Warnings: small angst, strong language, mentions of sex, mentions of mating, implied smut, abo dynamics, fluff, mentions of death/raids, mentions of rape

Word Count: 2,122

A/n: So, I decided that it’s probably best to keep my mind distracted, which means I’m back at writing. And, kind of posting. I won’t to updating every day as I’ve done before, but maybe every second day or twice a week or something like that. So, I’m back, but not entirely... I’m still taking things slow, so there’s a lot of things I’m unsure about. Things like snippets. But anyway... Moving on

The Chase Part 1 II Vikings Masterlist

A claiming bite can subdue an omega’s heat for a few more hours, or days even. And now that you are Bjorn’s omega, you go where he goes. Even if that meant returning to his Heathen Army the next day after you mated through the night.

He retrieved your father’s cloak from the other side of the lake where you had shrugged it off during your little chase, scented it - something you don’t think your father will appreciate if he’s still alive - so you can have something that smells like him around you when you walk among his people with him.

Just to be safe, he has his arm wrapped around your waist upon walking into the chaotic town. You glance all around you, trying to find the army you saw before he started to chase you, a chase you know you started and you will freely admit that.

Bjorn keeps you close, and you keep your face turned into his chest to avoid the sight of dead bodies being piled up, women being made slaves or mourning the loss of their alphas, or being raped. The sounds of their wailing and screaming makes your shiver. It’s something Bjorn notices, and he pulls you closer to his body to comfort you.

This is the life you have to live now that you are a Heathen’s omega. Does that make you a heathen too now? It seems as though your Christian days are behind you now, even though you weren’t that a devout follower of Christ. Still, you know what sin is. But is it a sin to mate with a pagan if he claimed you as his? That’s as good as marriage, right?

“Ah, Bjorn. How nice of you to join us,” a voice snaps, making you flinch and subconsciously step closer to your new alpha.

You and Bjorn turn your gaze to the source of the voice and your eyes land on an alpha in a chariot. You’ve heard of him. Ivar the Boneless, the crippled son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Walking up to join Ivar’s side are the other brothers, two other alphas, and one beta.

Bjorn glares at Ivar and moves away from you. “I am here now, aren’t I?” he sneers back and Ivar, reaching back to your so you can place your hands in his.

“Yes. But while you were fucking some omega in the woods, we were the ones that raided this town.”

“Careful what you say, Ivar. She is my mate now, not just some omega,” Bjorn fights back, letting go of your hand and stepping towards his brother with a low growl in his throat.

Ivar growls back at him before he chuckles. “But you are not hers. Her mark is not on your neck yet which means that anyone can easily take her from you,” he snaps back, lifting his eyes up to you as you take a step back.

Bjorn growls, pulls out his sword and points it at Ivar as he pulls out his ax to push against the blade of your alpha’s sword. “(Y/n)!” a small voice shouts from across the town square. You know that voice.

Your head snaps to the sound and you spot your sister, pulling her arm out of a viking warrior’s hand and running across the square towards you. “Sweterun,” you breathe in relief, running forward to meet her halfway.

Dropping to your knees and pulling her into your chest for a hug, you stroke the back of her head as she wraps her arms tightly around you. You nuzzle the side of her face, sigh in relief to know that she’s alright and that she’s alive.

The scene makes Bjorn pull his sword away from Ivar and turn to walk towards you. He holds up a hand to stop the alpha that had your sister, telling him to leave you and her.

You pull out of the hug and take your sister’s face in your hands, stroking her tear-stained cheek with your thumbs. “I told you you would be alright,” you chuckle, nuzzling her face to scent her so she smells like you. Or, well, like Bjorn. You feel you have to do so to prevent anyone from trying to take her from you again.

Her head turns away from you to look at the nearing alpha and she gasps in fright and tries to move away from him. “No, no, it’s alright, Sweterun,” you comfort, quickly grabbing her before she can runoff. “This is my alpha, now. He won’t hurt you,” you reassure, looking up to Bjorn to give him a small smile which he returns. “Bjorn, this is my sister,” you softly say, standing to your feet again as you turn to face him. “I’m the only family she has.”

He smiles down at her, a thought coming to his mind that the pups he could have with you might look something like your young sister. Holding out his hand to show that he means her no harm, he takes one last step forward and nods his head. “Now, she will be part of my family,” he states, making you breathe out a small sigh of relief at his words.

Sweterun places her hand in his, a sign that she doesn’t fear him and that she trusts him. You can only imagine what your father might think to know that you are mated to a heathen. That is, if he hadn’t died in battle defending the village.

You weren’t involved in much for the rest of the day because Bjorn insisted. Instead, you made sure your sister is well looked after before being led to chambers Bjorn has claimed as his for the remainder of the stay. He says that he wants you to rest and relax before your heat comes. That he needs to settle this dispute with his brothers about going after you instead of staying with them and attacking the village. He said that after that, he’ll spend time with you, take care of your oncoming heat.

And you can feel that you won’t have much time before you go into heat. You were just on the edge when Bjorn found you, stalling it for a few hours with his bite. But now there is nothing to stall it anymore. And, truthfully, you do want to claim you Alpha before you do it in a lustful haze brought on by your heat.

Even though you know that he claimed you in lust, or as a war prize, you really feel deep down that he can be a good alpha to you. You’ve been told so many times that an omega needs an alpha to care for their sexual needs. Well, now you have an alpha. And though you didn’t ask to be claimed, it can’t be that bad. This could be like an arranged marriage where you can learn to love your alpha. Right?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open, but you don’t freak out or get a fright from it because you could smell Bjorn’s scent. And you can smell the frustration on his scent, probably from the interaction with his brothers.

He falls down on the bed beside you with a huff, mutters to himself in his language words that you feel are curses as he unties the laces of his boots. “What happened?” you question, moving onto your hands and knees to crawl closer to him.

“My brothers thought that it was a mistake of me to go after you in the woods,” he bluntly says, throwing the boot away from him, making the hit the wall as he grumbles to himself again.

You bite your lip and rest your hands on his shoulders, wondering that you can say to make him feel better. What you can do to make him feel better.

Reminding yourself that he’s a Heathen, you recall the stories you’ve heard about them. You remember the stories about how they’re known to be sexual fiends, how they’re not afraid to be promiscuous. Especially the woman.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give it a try.

Moving so that you can straddle his lap, he lifts his head up to you and smiles as he rests his hands on your lap. “And what do you say? Do you think it was a mistake coming after me?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands travel down your thighs.

He pulls you closer, a smirk growing on his face as you gently grind down on him. “I wouldn’t have gone after you if I thought it was a mistake,” he whispers, leaning forward to touch his forehead to yours.

“Then why do you care what your brothers say?” You raise an eyebrow at him and let a small smile grow on your face, unsure where your confidence is coming from.

He’s a stranger to you that found you in the woods, knotted you and claimed you without asking. Then why do you feel so safe around him? Why do you feel so...happy with him? You should be fighting him, not giving up and letting this alpha have what he wants.

But, perhaps, sometimes it’s good to not fight. Sometimes, it’s better to just give in. At least, that’s what your mother used to tell you.

A bond between an alpha and omega is like a chase, she used to say. Something like your first encounter with Bjorn and how he pursued you through the woods. At first, there’s the resistance, the want to be left alone. But a chase can only go on for so long before someone has to give up. And you’re not weak because you gave up. That’s just how things go.

Bjorn chuckles at the perplexed look on your face and he brings up a hand to break you from whatever thought you have going around in your mind. And when you look back at him, a blush crosses your cheeks to think that you spaced out in front of him.

“I care what they say because I fear one of them will take you from me.”

You raise an eyebrow at that and lean slightly backward. “Take me from you?” you question, a frown creasing your eyebrow now instead of a curious look. “Why?”

“Because we are Vikings. We want the best,” he whispers as he leans closer. His lips come just in front of yours, teasing them with the kiss as you breathe out a soft sigh when his hands grip the back of your thighs. “They want to know what made me want to go after an omega instead of fighting with them in this raid. It’s your scent they want,” he whispers.

His hands start to lift the nightgown you wear, his hands that are slightly cold touch your hot skin, making you groan in content. “My scent,” you begin, your face dropping in his neck where your bonding mark should be. Where you want it to be. “My scent is yours. I am yours,” you whisper, kissing the stop on his neck and making him groan.

Running his hands up under your gown, you moan against his neck as he gropes your breasts. “Omega,” he growls, his lips kissing the mark he left on your neck yesterday when he mated with you after catching you.

“Alpha,” you respond, pressing your hands against his chest when he tries to turn you over onto your back. He pulls away from you, a frown on his face at your resistance. You take in a deep breath and run your hands up so that they come to the side of his face. “This is what Viking women do, isn’t it? They like to ride their men?”

That’s when he understands what you’re getting at and it makes a smirk grow on his face. “Is that what you want to do, omega?” he questions with a laugh, making you bite your lip as you nod your head.

You breathe out a shaky sigh as you shift above him, your hands running down his stomach and towards his breeches. “It’s what I want. And I want to mark you,” you whisper, your face falling back in his neck and letting your teeth graze over his skin.

He growls, his hands falling to your hips and gripping them tightly as you sink your teeth into his skin, just as he had done to you. And as you pull the laces of his breeches, pushing him down onto his back, you allow yourself to explore a new side. A ‘savage’ side that would otherwise be frowned upon in your village.

A Vikings side.

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 5 years ago

Text

Snowed In

Y'all, the quarantine hit hard. This fic is 100% self serving but I'm posting it in case it makes anyone else feel better? To add some spicy self loathing to my day? who knows.

No legit pairings, a tiny bit of hinting angstiness, for the sake of form, Geralt x fem!reader

Warnings: defs big warning for anxiety and depression. I don't think there's anything else? Lmk if there is and I'll edit this.

__________

“Snowed in?” you repeated, having just packed everything up and saddled both Roach and your horse Beau.

Geralt nodded grimly, “We’ll just have to hope Jaskier hears of the weather before he tries to make it here. The mail carrier is refusing to ride the pass.”

You heaved your saddlebags down with a slightly over dramatic grunt before turning to face him, “Is it a passing storm or do they think it’s headed for us?”

He shrugged and began untacking Roach, “You’ll have to ask the innkeeper. I just heard from someone who was turned back.”

You both finished putting the horses back in their stalls, throwing a little extra hay over the side in case you didn’t want to face the cold after dinner. The innkeeper looked frantic, attempting to deal with about five angry customers, so you headed for the connected tavern instead. In your experience, bartenders knew more scuttlebutt anyway.

Surprisingly you two were the only ones in the bar. The pretty blonde poured the two of you a beer and slapped a loaf of bread down between you before you could utter a word of request. Something rather unusual since traveling with Geralt.

“How long do you think this will last?” you asked, handing the woman a couple of gold coins.

She shrugged, “Last year it was mild. Just a week I think? But the year before that the town was stuck for almost a month.”

“Hm- huh? What day is it?” you mumbled as Geralt shook you awake.

“Twenty-three. Get up.” He ordered. The process had become routine. The two of you were stuck in a rather small room together due to overcrowding and you weren’t handling the idle time very well.

Geralt seemed completely content to meditate by the fire and meticulously repair his armor for the rest of eternity. While you had quickly become catatonic.

You sat up only because you knew he would lift you out of the bed completely if you didn’t do it yourself, “Ah yes, what a beautiful day to feed the horses and drink our weight in ale.”

The sarcasm dripping from your voice only earned a stern look from your roommate. The inn had run out of the drinkable stuff last week and they were rationing little the piss water they had left.

You scratched at your hair, your hand recoiling at the feel of grease. There was nothing to do, the floor space between the bed and the fire was barely big enough for Geralt to sit cross-legged, let alone for you to do any sort of exercise to keep your mood up. Not that you would if you could anyway. Any motivation to keep some sort of normalcy had left your body around day ten. The innkeeper had let some guests spar in the lobby around day six but everyone scattered when you had attempted to join. Something about ‘the witcher’s girl’ and how ‘she might gut you out of habit’. People could be stupid, you weren’t a witcher any more than they were and even so, Geralt was calmer and more restrained than all of them combined.

So, embracing the numbness, you stayed in bed well into the afternoon and long after Geralt had left his side of the bed.

“Did I miss breakfast again?” you asked, not making a move to get any farther from your warm blankets.

Geralt nodded, pointing to the small table near the door where some bread, cheese, and dried meat sat waiting.

You picked at it for his benefit, though you hadn’t really been hungry for a few days now. The storm raging outside was just about as strong as the one raging through your hollow insides. This inaction, the unknowing, the vulnerability was killing you.

“Y/N, you need to eat more than the crumbs.” Geralt urged, moving to sit in the chair opposite to you.

“I tried.” You sighed, “Can’t I just lay back down?”

He shook his head, “No. You’re letting this consume you. You’re tougher than this.”

You scowled at him, wanting to throw the bread in his face, “Fuck you. Nothing bothers you.”

“Your behavior is bothering me.” he countered, staring at you with a mix of worry and annoyance.

“Well isn’t that touching.” You sighed in mock flattery. Abandoning any idea of food, you got up to sit by the fire, poking at it aggressively with an iron rod and making a point to face away from him.

“What in the spheres is your problem?” He growled.

“Being stuck here with nothing to do?” you offered, your tone reminiscent of the young spoiled princess the two of you had saved from a wraith a few months back.

“That’s not it. I know when you’re lying Y/N”

Your limbs felt like they might float away into the air if you didn’t curl up into a ball, “I don’t want to talk about it Geralt. I’m sorry for snapping. I just need a couple of minutes.”

“You’ve needed ‘a couple of minutes’ for the past two weeks. Time to talk.” he argued.

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you. You didn’t tell me you’d been stabbed until right before you passed out in Temeria.”

“I’ve tried learning from my mistakes.” his tone was one of convincing the both of you, “What's bothering you? Really.”

“I don’t fucking know Geralt.” you hissed, getting very tired of his prying.

You heard him sit back and cross his arms, “Not good enough.”

You felt the words leave your throat before you could think of their meaning, spewing out with vitriol and fire, “I’m fucking tired. I’m tired of you telling me what to do. I’m tired of watching snow pile up out the damn window. I’m tired of the stupid couple that fucks all night next door. I’m tired of this worry that feels like it will rip me apart at any fucking moment from just not fucking knowing. I’m tired of worrying about Jaskier. I’m tired of worrying about the horses getting stocked up when there’s nothing I can do to help them. I’m tired of the glares from the other guests. I’m tired of feeling powerless. I’m tired of having no decent outlet for this anxious energy I’m stuck with. I’m tired of not knowing when this feeling will go away. And I’m absolutely fucking exhausted by the thought that it’s only been twenty-fucking-three days yet I feel I’ve been trapped here for a god-damned-eternity.”

The last sentence broke your resolve to stay angry. Upon pushing the last words from your lungs, you heaved a deep breath and let the sobs tear your chest apart, giving in to the hopelessness that had been building for weeks now.

You heard a shuffling that registered in the back of your mind as Geralt sitting behind you, but even so, you flinched when a hand rested on your shoulders. He scooped one hand under your knees and pulled you onto his lap, pulling a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around the two of you. He let you sob until the sobs turned to whimpers.

“I didn’t realize, I’m sorry Y/N” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your hair, sending a flood of warmth to your cheeks.

“You don’t need to be.” you croaked, leaning into his affection.

“I didn’t need to pry either.” He argued.

You just hummed in reply, too much of your energy spent on purging your system of those hideous sobs. You did make a noise of protest when he lifted you from his lap and set you beside him on the floor.

“Stay by the fire, I’ll be back.” He instructed, the tenderness of his voice surprising you.

Minutes later, as you were beginning to pull yourself back together, he returned with a terry cloth robe and what smelled like fresh jasmine soap. Without a word, he hoisted you into his arms and carried you across the room to the bathroom. He set you on your feet and handed you the robe and soap before turning his attention to the lever pump hanging over the ceramic tub.

“A bath?” You tried to bring your usual playful tone back to life and failed miserably.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head, “I’m just…” slightly disoriented? you finished the sentence in your head, not sure how to phrase it.

“Not used to anyone accommodating your emotions.” he finished, a knowing look in his eyes reminding you just how much he knew of isolation and pain.

As you nodded you had to mentally remind yourself you have to let people help you, that it’s okay to let people help you.

You didn’t bother waiting for him to leave before you peeled off your riding breeches. Melitele only knows how long you’d gone without changing them. You had more trouble unlacing the cinched waist blouse you’d been wearing the last four days. The restless tossing and turning you’d done instead of sleeping had it knotted four times over. When you’d finally rid yourself of every last thread the tub was full.

Geralt traced a sign in the water, sending ripples over the surface and steam up in the air, “Shouldn’t be too hot, but test it first.” He mumbled, making an effort not to stare at you too long.

It was rather hot but you had exposed yourself enough for one day. You took the hand he offered for balance and sank into the nearly scalding water without hesitation.

He knelt next to you, “If you wish to be alone-”

“No.” You interrupted, not having the courage to look up at him, “Please don’t go.” The words barely escaped your mouth, but Geralt heard them perfectly fine.

He wet a washcloth and lathered it with soap before handing it off to you. With the rest of the bar, he began washing your hair. At first, his hands were hesitant, as if he was afraid to hurt you. He paused when you gave up scrubbing the sweat and dirt from behind your knees, but only for a moment. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. His nails scratched at the base of your skull, coaxing a sigh from your lips. As he massaged the soap through the tangled mess he took his time with the tension in your temples, then the pressure points behind your ears, even working out the knots in your neck. You did your best not to moan, but a couple of gasps and pleased grunts may have slipped out. He rested a hand between your shoulders and guided you back, dipping your hair into the water to rid it of the froth he’d created.

You peeked up at him through your lashes. If he noticed he didn’t show it. His face was relaxed, almost serene, as he raked his fingers through your hair, gently tugging on the bigger tangles. You hadn’t ever taken the time to look at his eyes before, he seemed uncomfortable over them when you’d met so you left him alone about it. Looking at them now, you regretted it. They were a beautiful mix of honey, sunflowers, and glittering gold. And they were so kind. The idea that people spat at him when they recognized his eyes made your heart ache.

With a slight nudge from him, you sat back up, all the tension in your body having melted in the hot water or under his touch. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your arms across them and your chin on your arms. The events of the day had you feeling like a child who’d gone too long without a nap being soothed back to sleep. If you were being honest with yourself you missed the feeling of safety that came with someone taking care of you.

Geralt brushed your favorite oils through your hair, doing his best not to pull through knots too roughly, but it was in the same bun for about four days.

You let your tired mind wander as you watched snow fall out the small port window above the tub. The comb had failed to detect any knots in your hair for some time but it seemed Geralt was just as lost in thought as you.

Eventually the water grew cold and you had to accept this couldn’t go on forever.

“I think I might need to get out soon.” you mumbled, inspecting your pruney fingers. Everything in you was telling you to stay. Stay in this safe place with your gentle guardian. But you knew if you didn’t get out soon you’d never warm up, fire or not. Not to mention you knew you were taking Geralt’s actions more to heart than they were meant. He simply felt guilty for pushing you too far.

That didn’t mean you wanted him gone though. You were more than happy to live the lie for a little while longer.

"I'll go check the horses." He offered, placing a towel and the robe within your reach.

"Thank you, Geralt. For not… I don't know? Laughing at me?" You refused to look at him, being vulnerable enough as you already were.

"Y/N…" he said your name like it meant something but you couldn't figure out what, "You never have to thank me. I owe you so much more than a hot bath and kind words."

You turned your head to argue but when you saw his expression the words died on your tongue. All you could offer in response was a small smile.

It seemed to be enough for him and he nodded before disappearing through the door, leaving you to ponder what he'd meant.

_________

Part 2 here!

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shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years ago

Text

in sickness or in health

Notes: Post-Mr. Shimura & Kotarou, pre-relationship Nanahiko; beginnings of a sickfic (spoiler alert, it’s pneumonia). I just wanted to write about a kotatsu table. Word count: 1,590

It’s not that Torino Sorahiko has a delicate constitution, but Nana is very close to begging Chiyo to write a doctor’s note so Sorahiko is obliged to stay at home when the weather turns cold.

First he starts to sneeze, and then his voice begins to rasp, and suddenly Gran Torino is showing up to work while coughing his lungs out. Nana usually has to wait him out; the instant he falters mid-air, Nana smoothly swoops in and excuses him for the rest of patrol. For the rest of the week, if possible.

Sorahiko can pretend all he wants. But one disruption to his airflow is all it takes to send him flailing.

The fateful, annual misstep thankfully occurs before they resume patrol. They are taking a noontime break on their rooftop, surveying the street below, having fallen into the comfortable silence that fills the gap between conversations. Sorahiko clears his throat to indicate they need to move on. He does not stop clearing his throat; he’s doubled over, locked in a coughing spasm that nearly topples him over the edge of the roof.

Nana catches him by the waist, steadying him.

“I’m fine,” he chokes out.

“If I kicked you off this roof, you’d go splat on the asphalt,” Nana tells him sincerely. Sorahiko can’t even meet her eyes, and his face is red with exertion and embarrassment and what has to be the beginning of a fever. His frame shudders with another great cough.

“We can’t just stop patrol.”

“Sick days exist for a reason, and so do vacations! Time to use ‘em!”

“Ugh,” Sorahiko says, but he complies with her insistence that they return to the agency. Nana drops him onto the cot in the backroom, and cheerfully points at the civilian clothes sitting at the end of the mattress. Patrol can wait until Toshinori is done with school; even though Toshinori cannot fly, he’s remarkably agile about scaling rooftops.

“So you go home,” Nana says, internally planning out the rest of her day, “and get some rest until we know for sure that you don’t infect our civilian employees.”

It’s already a given that One for All will keep her and Toshinori spry and healthy; Nana’s immune system hasn’t encountered a virus or infection that it couldn’t burn out since she swallowed Rokudo’s hairs. Bonus, One for All keeps her toasty warm during the winters—she gleefully cut out winter gear from her expenses years ago.

Sorahiko looks up at her. He’s already peeled off the domino mask, and even with the dim ceiling light, Nana discerns the glaze in his pale brown eyes.

“Can’t go home,” he confesses.

“Huh?”

“My complex, it’s getting… fumigated,” Sorahiko informs her. He sounds smug. Like he’s won the argument Nana hadn’t realized they were having. “I told you about the termite problem.”

“No,” Nana says slowly, “you said your place had a cockroach problem. Termites, when did—no. When did the fumigation start?”

“Three days ago.”

“Where have you been sleeping?” Nana demands in a higher-pitched voice. Sorahiko eyes her shiftily, and he scrunches up his civilian wear in his hands. Looking at it closely, Nana realizes that the clothes are pajamas: flannel pants and a thick cable-knit sweater the color of a pale sun. “If I look under this cot, am I going to find a suitcase, Sorahiko?”

“Not under the cot,” he hedges. So, probably squirreled away in his desk’s drawers.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you at least keeping the heating on overnight?”

Sorahiko looks at a point over her shoulder and blatantly lies, “Would I suffer the cold?”

She glares at him because Sorahiko would be the type to deny himself the right to a warm office and minimize their heating bill. They don’t even keep a pillow and blanket for the cot! It’s literally a mattress on a tiny metal bedframe, bought for the office with the express purpose of napping, not actual sleep.

He shrinks where he sits. A sad sniffle punctuates the scene.

“Sick day for everyone,” Nana says promptly, and leaves Sorahiko alone in the backroom to tell their civilian staffers the good news. They are unhappy to find out that Gran Torino has been slowly but steadily contaminating the office with his seasonal germs. Thankfully, their concern for his housing situation outweighs their outrage over Sorahiko continuing to work while sick.

These are their most senior staffers; they know the pattern of a sick Sorahiko too.

She waves goodbye and doubles back to her and Sorahiko’s enclosed office to collect his cache of spare clothes (toothbrush and travel-sized hygiene products included). Once all that is in a tote bag, Nana returns to find Sorahiko still sitting unchanged on the cot, staring blankly at his pajamas. Nana squashes the burgeoning panic. The tote bag is dropped at one end of the cot, and she touches his shoulder.

Sorahiko startles, snaps to attention. Inelegantly, he says, “Wha’s happ’nin’?”

“You’re coming home with me,” she tells him. His eyebrows draw together.

“Says who?”

“Says your best friend.” Nana takes the pajamas and stashes them away into the tote; she picks up his domino mask and smooths it over his face, careful around the eyes, firm about the stray air pockets that tend to gather over his cheekbones. “C’mon, Sorahiko. I’ve got a kotatsu with your name on it.”

“You still own one?”

“Not everyone decided to prioritize a Western bed,” she says dryly, and helps Sorahiko stand upright. He breaks into a series of coughs again. She holds him through it and hopes that this year is just particularly bad for Sorahiko. When Nana had sent him home before, had he curled under his blankets and hacked his lungs out, every breath coming out as a rasp? Surely not.

“You still have one of those,” he remembers. Of course that’s what he remembers.

They stagger outside, Nana propping Sorahiko up with his arm around her shoulders. She locks the front doors and squints at the direction back to her apartment.

“Don’t wanna walk,” he mumbles into Nana’s hair.

“We’ll fly,” she assures him. And they do. Sorahiko’s pride matters less than his comfort, when his stubborn streak peters out. Nana scoops Sorahiko up in a bridal carry, hangs the tote bag on her elbow, taps off the ground and soars to the rooftops. The flight back to her apartment is swift, even with Sorahiko shuddering with stifled coughs.

Entering through the lobby, and then ascending the stairs with judicious use of Float, they finally make it home. Already, the heated building prickles at Nana’s skin. It wakes Sorahiko up too, if the faint stirring of his head is any indication.

“Home?”

“Home,” Nana agrees, keying them inside. She sets her partner onto his feet and sits him on a stool in her genkan. By the power of muscle memory, Sorahiko automatically starts tugging off his boots and various accessories. Nana’s quicker; she helps with the gloves, then ushers him to the bathroom. “Don’t fall asleep yet.”

“Hngh,” he manages. When the door shuts behind him and her shower starts, Nana reheats her kotatsu table, fiddling with the electric heater settings until there is a veritable warmth seeping through the carpeted padding.

Sorahiko needs rest, nutrition, and medication. Possibly Chiyo. Nana weighs the potential humiliation of telling Chiyo she was oblivious to Sorahiko sleeping in the office, chilled to the bone with not even an emergency foil blanket available—versus the danger of not telling Recovery Girl at all.

She stalls for time by making tea and checking her supplies. Painkillers, present. Canned soup? Worryingly absent, along with cough syrup. Nana may have to use her instant ramen powder packets for a broth.

“Nana,” she hears Sorahiko croak. “Just buy take-out.”

“And pass on my cooking?” Nana reflexively says before she jerks her head from her pantry. Sorahiko looks bedraggled. Dressed cozily, yes, but his towel-ruffled hair sticks up in jagged tufts, and the haggard shadows lining his face signals exhaustion more than stress.

“No need for two incapacitated pro-heroes.”

Nana rolls her eyes and gestures to the living room. “Kotatsu, go.”

He shuffles at first, then makes a delighted sound as his naked feet hit warmed territory. Sorahiko lowers himself to his knees, and then visibly decides, fuck it, and slides his entire body, neck down, under the heavy patterned futon.

“Oh,” Sorahiko sighs. His eyes flutter shut; Nana quietly picks her way over and sits by his head.

“I think I’m going to call Chiyo-chan,” she informs him.

“Unnecessary.”

“I’m calling Toshinori too.”

One eye cracks open. “Very unnecessary.”

“He’ll want to know why the agency is out for the day,” Nana explains, giving into the impulse to stroke her fingers through his fluffy silver hair. She cards the tufts into a smoother angle—less bedhead, more rakish. Sorahiko’s contented rumble stutters with a cough. “And he has easier access to Chiyo-chan.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Uh-huh.” His pout is ridiculous and endearing, and Nana’s heart hurts. She tries to smile anyway. Sorahiko ignores her valiant attempt to lighten the mood; the downturned corners of his mouth deepen into a real frown. How is he always tuned into her actual feelings? Ridiculous.

“... I’m a little sick,” he concedes grouchily. “Don’t let the kid be noisy if he invites himself over.”

“Okay,” Nana says, soft. She lets herself cradle his jaw for one long moment, feels the shifted weight of Sorahiko leaning into the touch, before withdrawing. She has a phone-call to make.

#bnha #nanahiko #torino sorahiko #gran torino #shimura nana #shih.txt #d-december #hmm this i definitely want to extend #fever dreams sorahiko. nice ring to it. >:3c

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sesamestreep · 5 years ago

Text

stack the deck with wild cards (chapter 1)

(read on AO3)

SUMMARY: The situation with Cassian is complicated even before Jyn finds out she's pregnant, but deciding to get an abortion should really be the last straw for him, right? If there was any chance he'd still want to date her, she thought it had to be long gone by now. And yet he always finds a way to surprise her. [AKA - The Obvious Child AU you didn't know you wanted]

A/N: I’m going to be posting chapters of this fic daily, since it’s already completed. I never write chapter fic, so I have no idea what I’m doing and please bear with me. Also, this fic (and the movie it gets its plot from) is about abortion, so if that’s not something you’re into reading about, you should really strongly consider not reading this. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings. For those interested, there’s additional notes if you follow the AO3 link above. If you want to blacklist any future updates of this fic on tumblr, I’ll tag it with [#stack the deck verse] for your convenience. Chapter 2 should be posted tomorrow. Stay golden.

The reality of the current situation doesn’t hit Jyn at the doctor’s office when she gets the news or even when she’s booking her follow-up appointment. It doesn’t sink in when they tell her how much it will cost or give her the information she’ll need or the prescriptions to fill. It doesn’t hit her when she’s on the subway, heading home and texting Bodhi with numb fingers to see if he wants to have a movie night, or even when his cheery reply—replete with emojis—comes through saying he can come over tonight.

No, the moment everything becomes real is when she’s standing in the wine aisle at Trader Joe’s, going back and forth on whether spending eight dollars on a bottle of wine so that she can drink all of it in one sitting is irresponsible when she’s pregnant but she’s also not keeping the baby. It’s only then that she starts crying.

She’ll blame it on the hormones if anyone asks, she decides, which might even be accurate. She’s not really a crier under normal circumstances, but even if she wasn’t pregnant, she’s pretty sure draining her savings account for a medical procedure that she wouldn’t need if she had just been a little more responsible with her body would make her cry no matter how tough she thinks she is. Lucky for her, though, she lives in New York City and no one bats an eye at a crying woman in the grocery store. An older woman with a toddler in the seat of her grocery cart passes by and nods in understanding without saying a word, which is oddly comforting.

It’s the reminder that she needs to be careful about her money that talks Jyn out of buying wine for this evening (Bodhi probably wouldn’t have any and she doesn’t need to drink an entire bottle by herself under any circumstances, let alone these, even if she really really wants to), but she goes on to throw whatever snacks she wants into the cart indiscriminately because it has been a spectacularly shitty day. She spends more than she should (what else is new?) and sweats profusely trying to drag all of it back to her sixth floor apartment. She slams cabinet doors in frustration as she puts everything away and then takes the longest, hottest shower her shitty pipes in her shitty apartment will allow. When she emerges, her skin is bright pink and she pokes her stomach viciously, somehow annoyed and confused and relieved all at the same time that it gives away nothing of her current condition.

She spends too long sitting in a towel on her bed, dicking around on her phone instead of getting ready and ultimately decides Bodhi doesn’t care what her hair looks like and so she runs a comb through it and calls it done. She puts on her softest, stretchiest leggings and an ugly sweater she raided from her dad’s closet when she was a teenager that she loves because it has been washed and worn so many times that the sleeves now have holes in them that she can stick her thumbs through. It’s easily the least glamorous look she could have come up with, but she’s pregnant and she’s mad about it, so she’s going for comfort over style.

By the time the buzzer goes off, signaling Bodhi’s arrival, Jyn has managed to light a few candles and put some of the snacks she bought into bowls, so at least it looks like she put effort into some part of the evening. She presses the button to let him up and fidgets as she waits to open the door. She has to tell Bodhi as a trial run for telling…well, everyone else, basically…but a part of her wants to tell no one, deal with it by herself and pretend nothing is wrong. Of course, that would be stupid—the doctor even told her not to try and handle this by herself—but it seems more appealing than the alternative at this particular moment. It’s not possible, though. She needs someone to come with her to the appointment, at the very least, and Bodhi will do it without hesitation, that much she’s sure of.

When she hears footsteps in the hallway, she undoes the locks and opens the door. She takes a deep breath that is immediately squeezed out of her when Bodhi wraps her in a big hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rocking her a little side to side as he embraces her. “I’m so glad you suggested this! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.”

“I know,” Jyn says, clinging a little. Her eyes feel misty again already and that is definitely the hormones’ fault.

Bodhi pulls back to smile at her and his eyes catch on the candles and food. He gives her a suspicious look. “Okay, if this is an intervention for spending too much time with my new boyfriend, I know I deserve it but also I would have expected a much better turn out. You couldn’t even get Cassian here?”

Jyn winces at the mention of Cassian’s name but she thinks she covers it quickly with a forced smile. “It’s not an intervention,” she says as she steps around him to close the door.

“So why all the fanfare for a regular movie night?”

“What fanfare? There’s no fanfare!”

“Jyn, you put cheese puffs in a bowl ,” Bodhi says, as if she’s being obtuse. “You’re gonna have to wash that later. You did not have to do that for me.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to make a joke— I’m nesting —but she refrains. “It’s no big deal,” she says, instead, and gestures to the couch for him to take a seat.

“If you say so,” he replies, still eyeing her warily and not taking the hint.

“Why don’t we sit down?” She finally asks, sounding strange and false even to her own ears. She leads the way over to the couch and Bodhi follows her, eventually lowering himself into the armchair with the same demeanor of someone approaching a wild animal.

“Jyn, seriously,” he says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees once she’s curled up like a cat across from him, “is everything alright? You’re acting...odd.”

“Everything is fine,” she says, lightly, and hopes that saying so makes it true. “I just, uh, need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

Jyn twists her hands together nervously, not sure how to get started now that the moment is finally here. “I need you to promise you’re not going to freak out,” she says, stalling for time.

“Ah, yes, that thing everyone says when everything is, in fact, totally fine.”

“Bodhi…”

“You’re leaving New York, aren’t you?” He asks, worried. “To be closer to Saw?”

“What? No, I—”

“Oh my god, it’s not Saw, is it?! He didn’t die, did he?”

“No, Saw is fine,” Jyn says, resisting the urge to rub her temple in frustration. “I mean, he’s not fine , obviously, he’s still sick, but he’s not—”

“Tell me you’re not quitting the band,” Bodhi interrupts. “Listen, I know things have been crazy lately, but I think—”

“Bodhi, I’m pregnant,” Jyn shouts, and the silence that follows is overwhelming.

“You’re…?”

“Pregnant. With child. Expecting,” she says, bitterly. “Yes.”

He looks like he’s been hit over the head with a mallet, which is bizarrely satisfying. She handled the news better and it was actually happening to her.

“How long have you known?” He asks, after a long time and with apparent effort. It’s not the first question she expected, but it’s not totally surprising.

“Like, five hours.”

“Five—?” Bodhi shakes his head in what she thinks is disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Jyn just blinks in response. What is he talking about? “Sorry?”

“You and Reece broke up like six months ago, how did you not realize you were pregnant sooner?” He asks.

“I…Bodhi, I’m not six months pregnant,” Jyn sputters. She smacks her stomach to drive home the point, which in retrospect is a stupid move, but she’s not thinking straight. “I mean, do I look it?”

“No! No,” he says immediately. “That’s why I was so confused, but you…you haven’t been with anyone since the breakup. You would have told me.”

When Jyn says nothing in response, just bites her lip, Bodhi narrows his eyes at her. “You would have told me, right?” He asks.

Jyn takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. “I’m eight weeks pregnant,” she says, feeling close to tears again. “I found out today, I have an appointment in a few weeks to—to terminate it. I just need someone to go with me, the nurse said I had to, otherwise I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Jyn,” he says, placing his hand over hers. “Of course, I’ll go with you. I just—I’m not upset with you, you know that, right?”

She nods, even though she doesn’t feel altogether certain of it. She loves Bodhi and trusts him, more than she trusts almost anyone else, but she’s not convinced she deserves to have him be nice to her after she’s fucked things up this badly. He ought to be upset with her.

“I know,” she says, anyway. A single tear escapes, which is just perfect. “I’m upset with myself.”

“Are you okay?” Bodhi asks, delicately. “Did this person hurt you or force you in some way?”

“No, no. God, no,” Jyn says, pulling her hands free with more aggression than the act required. She wipes the tears away in annoyance. “Nothing like that.”

“Thank God,” he says, looking heavenward and everything. “Then why all the secrecy? I texted you the minute I finished hooking up with Taidu for the first time.”

Jyn laughs even as she continues crying. “I did not ask you to do that.”

“No, but...not even a braggy ‘I just got laid!’ text? I thought we were best friends!”

“We are,” she replies hastily. “I was just embarrassed.”

“Why?” He asks, intrigued. “Is this person weird? Are they famous?”

She laughs again, feeling better in spite of the bomb she’s about to drop. “No, Bodhi…”

“They’re not married, are they? Because I promise not to judge you, but come on!”

“They’re not married.”

“Good, because for a second I was worried you slept with Baze and that would definitely break up the band,” he says, solemnly.

Jyn smacks his shoulder half-heartedly. “I would never sleep with Baze,” she says. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Fine,” Bodhi says. “So, it was Chirrut, then?”

“Bodhi!”

“Well, you’re being so cryptic,” he shoots back. “If you just told me—”

“I slept with Cassian.”

Bodhi just blinks at her for a long, torturous moment. She’s never actually seen Bodhi yell at anyone before, so she doesn’t know if that’s what is about to happen but she braces herself for it anyway.

“What,” he finally says, flat like a statement and not a question.

“I had sex with Cassian and now I’m pregnant,” she says firmly, as if just admitting it out loud isn’t making her heart hammer in her chest.

“You’re pregnant with Cassian’s baby,” Bodhi says, disbelieving and Jyn winces. She’s been trying not to think of it as an actual baby, because she’s not keeping it. But if she did nothing for seven more months, she would have a baby and it would be Cassian’s, in a purely biological sense. She doesn’t admit to that line of thinking to Bodhi, though.

“Yes,” she says, instead. “Technically,” she adds, because she can’t stop herself.

“Technically? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just—Getting someone pregnant doesn’t make a man a father,” she says, with more heat than she intended. “Raising a child does. And there’s not going to be a child, so…that’s all I meant.”

“Sorry,” Bodhi says, placing his hands over hers again. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just so surprised.”

“You didn’t upset me,” Jyn replies, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s these stupid hormones, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. He moves to sit next to her on the couch, and she folds her legs up to give him room. “How did he take it when you told him?”

Jyn winces again before she can stop herself and she knows she doesn’t hide her reaction quickly enough from the way Bodhi stands abruptly. He always paces when he’s freaked out.

“Jyn, please tell me Cassian knows,” he pleads as he makes a circuit around her coffee table.

“I’ve only known for half a day! I haven’t had a chance to tell him!”

“Why would you tell me and not him?”

“You’re my best friend!”

“It’s his baby!”

“I wanted to make sure you could come to my appointment with me,” she says, and hopes the reminder is enough to make him feel sorry for her. He only stops pacing, but that’s still an improvement. “I was hoping you’d tell me what to do,” she adds, since it’s the actual truth.

“Well, obviously, go to your appointment,” Bodhi says, sinking back onto the couch.

“No, I mean—what I should do about Cassian?”

Bodhi looks over at her, confused. “What do you mean, what should you do about him? Tell him what’s going on.”

“I know, but how?”

“Same way you told me. Use your words.”

“Can I text him?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, scandalized. “You can’t tell him you’re pregnant via text. Who raised you?!”

“Saw.”

He acknowledges that with a nod. “Fair point.”

“I bet you’re going to say I can’t leave him a voicemail either,” Jyn says.

“You’re right, but mostly because no one under the age of eighty checks their voicemail anymore,” he says, patting her knee absently.

“Really?”

“Really,” Bodhi replies. “Just...sit down with him and tell him what’s going on. Same as you did with me.”

“It’s different with you.”

“It’s not that different.”

“It’s not your baby I’m aborting,” Jyn says quietly. “And you love me.”

Bodhi looks over at her then, some strange mix of emotions playing out on his face. She half expects him to object and say something ridiculous like Cassian does love her, and the very idea stresses her out. When he doesn’t say that, though, she finds herself oddly disappointed.

“Cassian’s a good guy. He’ll understand,” he says, instead, as if she doesn’t know that somehow. As if that isn’t a huge part of why this situation sucks so bad. As if she isn’t mortified that she has to involve him in something like this. As if she isn’t furious with herself because this is going to blow any chance she ever had with him in the first place. As if she hadn’t already done that by hooking up with him and then never calling him afterwards.

“I know,” Jyn says, looking down at her hands. She doesn’t actually know that—that he’ll understand. She thinks she knows Cassian fairly well, in a casual way. They’re mostly friends through Bodhi but they see a lot of each other. She suspects, from things he’s said before about politics, that he’s probably okay with abortion in a general sense, but it’s different when it’s your potential kid. She can’t actually be certain he’ll be cool with it, but she’s also not asking his permission. She just thinks he deserves to know. Or maybe she just wants an excuse to call him, for all this is the worst possible one the universe could have handed her.

“It’s just weird,” she adds, after a minute lost in thought, “for this to be the thing I call him about, after we hooked up. It feels shitty.”

“Wait, hold on,” Bodhi says, waving his hand dramatically at her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know what you think I’m saying.”

“Have you not talked to him since you slept with him?”

“I haven’t,” Jyn says, bracing herself. Bodhi opens his mouth to interject, so she continues quickly, stopping him. “But, in my defense, it was right before the holidays and then he was out of town for like a month, so it seemed weird to reach out, and—”

“Jyn,” he says, and his tone is so full of reproach, it shuts her up immediately. “None of those are good reasons and I think you know that.”

“It’s not like he and I talk a lot anyway,” she objects, but it’s futile, if Bodhi’s unimpressed look is any indication. “We mostly see each other at the shows and the band didn’t have any in December, so I just haven’t had the chance. That’s all.”

“Okay, so none of it had to do with your overwhelming fear of intimacy and vulnerability?”

“No…?”

“Very convincing,” Bodhi says, and Jyn shoves him.

“Shut up,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, if that’s not what happened,” he says reasonably, “you have to tell me what did.”

“What—you want details?!”

Bodhi shrugs. “You hooked up with my roommate and didn’t tell anyone about it for almost two months. There must be a reason.”

“Maybe it was bad,” she says, petulantly.

He just gives her an arch look in reply, which she deserves. “Was it bad?” He asks, bored.

Jyn bites her lip, hard. “No,” she admits. “It actually really wasn’t.”

“Well, then. Spill!”

She sighs dramatically—more dramatically than the situation deserves, honestly, and it’s already a pretty dramatic situation. “What do you want to know?

“When did this happen?”

“By my doctor’s estimate, eight weeks ago.”

“Jyn, for the love of—!”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood,” she says, for all she was actually just trying to stall. “It was that night we played at that terrible hipster bar in November.”

“Jyn, we exclusively play at terrible hipster bars. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“It’s the one with the arcade games in the back? It’s changed names like three times this year?”

“ Oh , that place. Yeah. What is that place’s name?”

“No clue,” Jyn says, with a shrug. “But it was at that bar.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen, though whether it’s with shock or delight or both, she’s not sure. “You hooked up with him at the bar ?”

“No, no. We went home together afterwards, once the rest of you had left.”

“I knew it,” he practically shouts. “I knew something was up that night!”

“You did not!”

“Yes, I did. You can ask Taidu, I definitely said something about it to him.”

Jyn waves him off, not because she’s convinced but because she’s not going to bother Taidu about something this stupid. “Whatever.”

“You still haven’t told me how it happened.”

“Do you need me to explain how sex works? Because I feel like you get the general idea.”

“No, smartass,” he says with an eye roll. “I mean, you and Cassian hang out at bars all the time together and you’ve never hooked up before. So, what happened this time?”

“Well,” Jyn says, taking a steadying breath, “you and Taidu left early for some reason and you said you were going to stay at his place. And Baze and Chirrut left right after that, because I think that’s when Baze had that terrible cold.”

“Jyn, no offense, but who cares?”

“You asked me what was different about that night! I’m explaining!”

“Okay, fine,” Bodhi allows. “It was different because we all callously abandoned you.”

“Yes, thank you! Anyway, it was just me and Cassian at the bar and I had just ordered another drink when Baze and Chirrut decided to leave and I was giving them a hard time about it and Cassian offered to stay with me for another round, so I wouldn’t have wasted my money or have to drink alone.”

“How gallant of him.”

“No editorializing,” she snaps, and Bodhi dutifully mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “Anyway, we had a couple more drinks, we had sex, and now I’m pregnant. The end.”

“Fine,” he says, giving up. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I was just interested because you’re both my friends and I love you. Also, I know how hard the break-up was on you, so I was excited that you felt comfortable enough to move on. But you clearly don’t want to talk about it, so forget it!” He pivots away from her on the couch and leans forward to grab some popcorn. “What movie are we watching, anyway?”

Jyn groans in frustration. He’s always been way too good at guilt-tripping her into anything she doesn’t want to do. “You’re such a brat!”

“What? I’m changing the subject, like you clearly want to!”

“I’m embarrassed, Bodhi!”

“I don’t see why,” he says, looking at her blankly. “Cassian is good looking and he’s not a creep. You could do way worse. You have, in fact.”

She punches him in the shoulder in retaliation. “Hey!”

“What? I mean, you dated Reece for two years and he wasn’t exactly a catch. Cassian is an improvement, in my opinion.”

“I see we’re not sparing my feelings anymore where Reece is concerned.”

Bodhi covers her hand with his own. “Jyn, that guy cheated on you for a long time, and then he broke up with you so he could be with the other woman—right before you went onstage to perform, I should mention—and he had the audacity to blame you for the cheating because you ‘didn’t give him enough attention,’” he says, with the most judgemental use of air quotes she’s ever seen. “I care about your feelings, truly I do. But I do not care about Reece and I will not pretend you aren’t way better off without him.”

“I’m not his biggest fan either,” she says, defensively. “But what does it say about me that I dated him for all that time without realizing what a dick he was?”

“That he was an even bigger scrub than we thought, because he managed to hide his true colors for so long,” Bodhi says, easily. “You’re not responsible for his actions.”

Jyn wants to believe him, and most days she already, mostly does. But sometimes she catches herself replaying the break-up in her head and the part where Reece said that if she’d really cared, if she’d really been in their relationship for the long haul, she’d have paid more attention to him and he would never have even thought about cheating. She’d left him no choice, with all her weird part-time jobs and her crazy schedule and her gigs with her silly little band all over the city in the middle of the night. If she were more together, if she knew what she wanted from her own life, she could have been there for her partner, but she was too much of a mess. Too much of a work-in-progress to be the sort of girlfriend someone wanted to be serious with.

“I know,” she says, half-heartedly. If Bodhi’s told her this once, he’s told her a thousand times. Maybe she’ll really believe it someday, but not quite yet. “It just gets in your head, when someone treats you like that. You start to wonder if you have a neon sign over your head that says you’re not really relationship material.”

“You do not have a neon sign over your head that says anything of the kind,” Bodhi reassures her, surprisingly earnestly. “If your relationship with Reece needed work, he could have brought those issues to you to resolve them. Instead, he cheated on you. He took the easy way out and then blamed you when it made him look like an asshole. That’s on him.”

Jyn sighs, hating how often she and Bodhi have to have this conversation or some variation of it. She wishes she could just magically not be upset about it anymore, but it’s not like she didn’t have trust issues before this. The situation with Reece just made them worse. That was part of the appeal of hooking up with Cassian; she wanted to get back out there and feel desirable again, but she couldn’t do it with just anybody. Cassian was safe because she knew him and trusted him, but they weren’t super close, so it’s not like hooking up with him would ruin their friendship. He knew enough of what happened with her breakup to know that it was just a rebound, but not enough about her mental state to worry about her when she initiated things between them. She didn’t need someone to worry about her; she just needed someone to take her home.

The bar had been surprisingly busy that night, probably because some local favorite band was on after their set and they had a weirdly devoted following. Even though the rest of their group had abandoned them, the spots around Jyn and Cassian at the bar quickly filled in with noisy patrons, which left them no choice but to lean close to each other when they talked. Cassian’s arm had been curled around the back of the barstool that she was perched on, not possessively but in a way that didn’t encourage anyone to interrupt them. Jyn didn’t object; she didn’t want to talk to anyone else anyway.

Something about having Cassian’s full attention, her elbow brushing his ribs anytime she reached for her drink and feeling the warmth radiating off him in the already overly warm bar, felt nice in a way that went right to her head. She was shamelessly leaning into it, both literally—if she had curled any further into him, she would be hugging him—and figuratively—asking him personal questions she’d never bothered with before and laughing a little too loudly at his answers in a way that would have probably made him suspicious if she hadn’t distracted him by constantly touching his arm. It was the oldest trick in the book, and he must have known that, but Jyn wasn’t really in the mood to be subtle anyway.

If he was wary of her motives in flirting with him so obviously, he hadn’t mentioned any of his concerns to her. Cassian tends to be wary as a rule, which is part of why Jyn trusts him. He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop too, just like she is. There’s a subtle understanding between them as a result. Other than that, Jyn had never given him much thought. Sure, he’s good looking, even when he comes to their gigs still in his clothes from the office, which make him look like an accountant. He’s not actually an accountant, though; he works at some organization that works with kids in the foster system, which is the sort of job that immediately put Jyn on edge when she first heard about it after he’d moved in with Bodhi. She’s technically a freelance illustrator, but since that doesn’t pay the bills with any consistency, she also works all sorts of other odd jobs to make up the difference. She doesn’t have a 401K or a high yield savings account, but she’s pretty sure Cassian does, even if he’s also probably underpaid. But he’s underpaid in the good way, the what-a-Saint way, while Jyn is underpaid in the no-one-values-your-skills, get-a-real-job way. So, at first, she’d been a little suspicious of him.

But, back then, he was Bodhi’s new roommate who also took him up on the invitation to come see his band play during one of their glamorous midnight slots at some crummy dive bar, which earned him a little respect in Jyn’s mind. When he kept showing up, she was surprised. It didn’t seem like his scene at all, but when she said as much to him one night, he’d given her a self-conscious smile and said that coming to Bodhi’s shows gave him the pretense of a social life when his co-workers asked what he did with his free time. He had a tendency to look worried or miserable when left to his own devices, but self-deprecation was a good look on him and it was nice to know he wasn’t dead serious all the time. They never became close friends after that, but Jyn always liked talking to him after the shows.

Something changed when she was going through the break-up, though. Cassian knew what happened, of course, enough to tell her he was sorry to hear about it from Bodhi, but they didn’t exactly talk in depth about it or anything. He treated her the same as he always had. The change had come from her, honestly. She’d always thought he was attractive, in that split-second way you decide when you first see someone, but she’d never given it any thought beyond that, really. But once the initial fog of I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening lifted after the break-up, she started to notice Cassian more and think about him in a way she hadn’t before. She was disappointed if he couldn’t make it to one of their gigs. She started to appreciate the dorky work outfits he wore to the dive bar venues they played and she liked talking to him after the set, when he’d give her his full attention like she was the most fascinating person in the world.

She couldn’t tell, though, if he was genuinely interested in her or if he just thought she was hot and (now) single. If she’d been smart, she would have figured that out before hooking up with him. Instead, the universe handed her the perfect opportunity to be alone with him, without any of their friends to talk them out of it or ruin the mood and she’d taken full advantage of it. She had felt almost dizzy with the possibility of it, that she could ask him to leave with her and that he’d probably say yes. Next to her, some drunk guy stumbled up to the bar and, in his haste, accidentally and rather fortuitously shoved her even further into Cassian’s arms. He’d tightened his hold on her to catch her fall and when she’d looked up, he was glaring at the man, who was completely oblivious to having made an enemy. It was ridiculously charming, to think he was offended on her behalf, as if her honor had been threatened. Really, what was she supposed to do then, except kiss him?

He’d been surprised, at first, and who could blame him? Sure, she’d been giving the corniest, most textbook signals that she was into him all night, but she hadn’t even known she was going to actually make a move until she did it. He recovered quickly, though, which was nice, and reciprocated immediately. Jyn’s not sure what she would have done if he’d asked questions or tried to talk things through first, even though she kind of expected it from him. They’d both had a few drinks, not enough to impair them by any means but just enough to embolden them.

His hand had come to rest on her back when she got pushed into him and she felt it flex, as if he was trying to hold her even closer. The other moved to her face as soon as she kissed him, though it was really just his thumb grazing her jaw, like he was worried she might turn away and he wanted to offer a slight incentive to stay where she was. She probably would have kept making out with him at the bar like they were college students or something, but she didn’t actually want to spend another second with the drunk patrons or the shitty band that was onstage. She wanted to be someplace else—anywhere else, really, so long as it meant she and Cassian could be alone. She pulled back, with great effort, and the look on Cassian’s face made her think he expected to be let down easy.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, instead.

His eyebrows went up, as if that was the last thing he expected her to say. He closed his eyes, like gathering his thoughts was difficult at that moment. “I, uh—what are you asking?”

Jyn bit her lip, which was a bad habit of hers when she was nervous, but if it also happened, by pure luck, to look flirtatious, that was fine too. “I’m asking if you want to go back to your place and have sex with me,” she said, because she wasn’t about to waste time and not get exactly what she wanted out of this.

“Do I want that?” He’d asked, dumbfounded, and if she hadn’t just been having a completely normal conversation with him, she’d have worried he was drunker than she thought. But this was entirely her effect on him and it was incredibly flattering. “Do you?”

“I think the fact that I suggested it makes it pretty obvious what I want.”

Cassian had run his hand through his hair, clearly a nervous tic. “Yeah, but—yes, I would like that.”

He said the last bit decisively, as though he realized he might be accidentally talking her out of it with his hesitation. He needn’t have worried—Jyn has her mind made up about this—but she thought it was better to keep him on his toes than reveal that. She gave him a bright smile before turning to get the bartender’s attention. They paid their tab and got the hell out of there in record time.

When they left the bar, it was raining lightly, barely a drizzle at this point, but there was evidence that it had stormed earlier in the evening. The small heel on Jyn’s boots brought her close enough to Cassian’s height that, even standing outside the bar, she didn’t have to strain to reach him and pull him down for another kiss. His hands came to her hips to steady her anyway and she’d have happily continued like this for a while if the bouncers by the front door didn’t wolf whistle at them and ruin the moment.

They started walking to Cassian’s apartment without discussing it, like they agreed via telepathy that no cab driver would tolerate them given their current amount of PDA. It wasn’t a far walk, though, and Jyn had internally thanked the forces of the universe for making this happen at the closest bar to Cassian’s place, because she’s sure they would have lost their nerve over the course of a lengthy subway or cab ride. Instead, they headed for his apartment in silence, more because they were focused than not having anything to say. He held her hand the whole way, as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he wasn’t touching her. While they waited for a crosswalk signal at one corner, he pulled her into his side and kissed her again, like she really needed the reminder that he was a good kisser. How could she forget?

“He’s a really good kisser,” she says, suddenly, to Bodhi, as they sit together on the couch.

Bodhi scrunches up his nose, looking disgusted. “Who? Reece?”

“No! I’m talking about Cassian!”

“Oh!” His eyes light up. “I thought you didn’t want to.”

Jyn shrugs, noncommittal. She wants Bodhi’s reassurance that she didn’t fuck things up beyond repair and this is probably the only way to get that. “I’m obviously not going to tell you everything . But we can talk about it, a little. I guess.”

“Okay, but how good is he?”

“Is there an accepted scale I should use?”

“One to ten would suffice, I think. Ten being the best kiss you’ve ever had and one being…well, you already said it was good, so we don’t need to worry about that.”

She exhales noisily, not sure how to describe it. “I don’t know. I can’t even think of the best kiss I ever had.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

She punches him on the shoulder. “I hate you,” she says, petulantly. “It was really, really good. Definitely an 8.5 or a 9. Maybe a 9.5.”

“Really?!”

Jyn nods, feeling awkward. “Yeah. We made out for a really long time before we…well, before anything else happened.”

She doesn’t mention that she’d almost lost her nerve, when they first got back to Cassian’s apartment. Being in his bedroom, the idea of sleeping together suddenly became real and all of her tipsy confidence evaporated. She’d been in a relationship for two years—she’d thought she and Reece would move in together whenever their leases were up, even though she hadn’t had the confidence to bring it up to him before he turned around and left her for another woman—and suddenly she wasn’t ready to be with someone else. Naturally, Cassian had picked up on her change in mood and asked her what was wrong. She lied and said it was nothing, though he hadn’t looked convinced. To prove her point, she’d kissed him again, hard, trying to psych herself up, but he’d eased back, turning their kiss into something easier and softer. He’d kissed her like that for a while, his hands in her hair and on her jaw, not reaching for her clothes or straying anywhere new. It was only after they’d continued like that for a long time that Jyn felt her nerves mellow into pleasure and then sharpen into desire again. Even though they’d kept things fairly chaste, all of that kissing had made her want more, and she clearly had to be the one to take the lead.

“And was he a gentleman with you?” Bodhi asks primly, interrupting Jyn’s thoughts.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she says, with a frown.

“Did he…how do I put this…take care of your needs?”

“Oh. Uh, yes.”

“First?” He asks, clearly enjoying himself.

“Yes,” Jyn replies, through gritted teeth. She leaves out the fact that she’d not-so-subtly rushed them past the point of foreplay so Cassian wouldn’t get any ideas. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, that he would have even tried something like that with her, that she got in the way of some grand plan of his to gallantly fulfill her needs before worrying about his own, but he had looked surprised when she took them straight from kissing to taking his clothes off to fucking him. Maybe it was a pleasant surprise, maybe he was relieved to find someone who didn’t expect so much effort from him. She didn’t ask. She just knew that she couldn’t handle the idea of it being unequal, of him being smug or, worse, expectant with her. She didn’t want to owe him anything, so they were going to have sex once and then she could move on. Naturally, she hadn’t counted on getting pregnant.

“I told him I was on the pill and I wasn’t,” she blurts out before she can stop herself.

The way Bodhi swings around to stare at her would be funny, under any other circumstances. “Why would you lie about that?” He asks, unable to keep the judgement out of his tone.

“I didn’t lie ,” she says. “I thought I was on the pill! I’ve been taking it for years, so I didn’t think anything of it. I forgot to get my prescription refilled a few months ago and I was like, ‘who cares?’ because Reece and I had just broken up and I was convinced I was never going to have sex again.”

“But then you had sex with Cassian!”

“I know! And I forgot I wasn’t on the pill anymore.”

Bodhi covers his eyes with his hands. “Please tell me you used a condom.”

“Cassian definitely offered,” she says, trying to sound upbeat.

“And you said, ‘yes, of course, because you’re a man I’ve never slept with before and that’s the safest way for us to have sex!’”

“No. I said, ‘it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’m on the pill.’”

“Jyn!”

“Before you yell at me, I would like to remind you I’m already pregnant, so the worst case scenario has already happened.”

“That’s not the only reason you should use a condom!”

“I know, but I got tested for STDs when I went in for my pregnancy test and nothing has come back positive yet, so hopefully I’m not that unlucky.”

“Listen, I know you’re going through some stuff right now and I don’t want to pile on, but that was really risky,” he says, looking more serious than she’s ever seen him. “You have to promise me that you’ll be more careful.”

“I promise,” she says, feeling like a teenager being chastised. “Believe me, paying out of pocket for an abortion is a pretty great way for me to learn my lesson.”

“God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault. Like you said, I wasn’t being careful.”

“That wasn’t—I’m not trying to hit your nose with a rolled up newspaper, Jyn. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know. This is why I was embarrassed. I made a complete idiot out of myself. And now I get to explain all of this to Cassian, which won’t be humiliating at all.”

“He’ll understand,” Bodhi says, with enviable levels of confidence. “He’s good like that.”

“I said I’d call him and I didn’t,” she says, trying not to cringe as she remembers how quickly she’d left after they’d had sex, how she hadn’t even looked Cassian in the eye when she promised to call. “Even if he was fine with a one-night stand, I still lied to him. I doubt he’ll be happy to hear from me, especially under the circumstances.”

“If the alternative is not hearing from you at all, I think he’d rather hear from you. No matter what the circumstances are.”

“I don’t know.”

“Jyn, you and Cassian are friends, even if you don’t think you’re particularly close. And you’ve slept together, which involves a certain level of intimacy—”

“Not the way I do it,” she jokes. Although there’s some truth to it, she thinks.

Bodhi smacks her with a pillow, which she completely deserves. “Call him or I’ll kick your ass.”

“God, fine!” She slouches down in her seat on the couch. “Do I have to do it right now?”

“God, no. I don’t want to be here for that conversation,” he says, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Besides, you promised me a movie night. What are we watching?”

“I don’t care, as long as it doesn’t involve babies or pregnancy.”

Bodhi’s scrolling through the titles on Netflix as she speaks, nodding absentmindedly. “‘Sleepless in Seattle’?” He asks, when he lands on it.

“That totally has a baby in it!”

“The kid is, like, eight,” he argues. “And it’s not about the process of having kids!”

Jyn sighs, defeated. “Do you want to watch ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ Bodhi?”

“Yes, but I’m mostly in it for Bill Pullman.”

“Fine,” she says, settling in next to him. “I’m probably going to fall asleep in twenty minutes, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Bodhi says, and hits play.

#rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #bodhi rook #obvious child #obvious child au #baze malbus #chirrut imwe #star wars #abortion #abortion tw #my fic #my writing #stack the deck verse #otp: built on hope #otp: your mother and i have been together ever since #anyway here's wonderwall

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calpalirwin · 5 years ago

Text

So F***in’ Deep

Summary: You watch Mike perform and hear that man go “So fuckin deep” and your mind starts racing.

A/N: Thought long and hard (heh, hey-o!) about letting this fic end at the first break. But then I didn’t because I know how antsy I get when I read fics that end right before the “good” stuff, even if it’s all good. Like it? Tell me. Hate it? Shove it! (JK, feel free to tell me that too. Constructive criticism is good for the soul. We learn more from our mistakes than our successes. Just don’t be rude about it, you know?)

Content: Sex. Cursing.

Word Count: Why do I keep adding this bit? 2,200-ish words.

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“So fuckin deep!” Mike practically moaned into the microphone, shooting you a wink, making the crowd lose their minds.

You laughed from where you were watching, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter how many times you watched him perform, that little grin and head tilt of his would take your breath away every damn time. And that particular ad-lib mixed with the moan, well, it made you weak in the knees to say the least.

“You have fun, Mikey?” you asked him once you got backstage.

He nodded happily, his green eyes dancing brilliantly, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Do you want to shower?”

He nodded again.

“Adrenaline making you speechless again?” you smiled up at him. Post-show was the only way Mike was ever quiet, the adrenaline pumping through him making him too excited to do much besides vibrate with energy.

“Do you want to me shower with you? Or do you want to relax by yourself?”

He answered by taking your hand and dragging you towards the bathrooms.

“Girl entering!” you announced, covering your eyes with a hand, trusting Mike to lead you.

“Aw, c’mon! Can’t a dude shower in peace?” Ashton called out through the steam.

“They’re individual stalls!” you laughed. “Just wrap yourself before you step out.”

“I’m not worried about us seeing each other nude, Y/N. I just don’t wanna hear you fuck my little brother!” Ashton laughed back.

“You peek, and I kick your ass,” Mike finally spoke, his racing heart calming down enough for him to find words.

“I won’t look at your girl on purpose,” Ashton assured him.

“Good. And that threat goes to you too, Cake!” Mike said to the benefit of the other men in their stalls.

“Won’t be able to, mate,” Luke’s voice sounded. “Sierra will kill me before you get the chance.”

“Damn straight!” Sierra’s voice sounded. “Y/N, you’re gorgeous, baby!”

“You are too!” you called out.

“1 shower! 1 shower without the sex!” Calum complained.

“We’re not having sex!” you and Sierra yelled back.

“Can I peek if you do?” Luke asked playfully. “Whoa, alright!” he laughed as Sierra probably pushed him and he slipped.

“Maybe a little sex?” Mike asked you in a whisper, pulling you into a stall. “Me and you, not you and Si. Although...”

“Maybe,” you smirked. “To you and me.”

His heart started racing again as he went to fetch some towels and you got the shower going the right temperature- a notch below skin-searing.

You were enjoying the spray when the door opened as you heard Mike shuffling out of his clothes before his chest pressed up against your back, arms wrapping around you. “You were awesome out there, Mikey,” you said, turning in his arms, feeling the spray pound on your hair. You rubbed at your eyes as the water flew in your face.

Mike chuckled and turned, taking the brunt of the spray, his hands brushing the water from your face. “Thanks baby.”

“You okay?” you asked, reaching up to touch his face. “You seem quieter than normal.”

He smiled at you. “Yeah, baby. I’ve just missed you.”

You smiled back. Getting a chance to be with him on tour was a rare occurrence, and this tour was already two months in before you got the chance to fly out to join him. “Just checking. Can’t have you getting sick on us. And I’ve missed you, too.”

“Not sick. Just happy.”

“You’re loud when you’re happy, Mikey,” you told him.

“But, I did just get done performing, and I currently have you very naked and in my arms. You know how my adrenaline makes me too jittery to speak.”

“Yeah, about that performance,” you smirked.

“I was awesome, and I kicked ass. Yeah, I know,” he said with an eye roll. It was what you always said and he still never believed it.

“Cocky,” you laughed. “And true. But there’s something else,” you added.

“Mmm? And what’s that?”

“So fuckin deep?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “With that little moan and head tilt? Mikey, you’re gonna murder your fanbase.”

“What fanbase?” he laughed. “Nobody’s a Mike girl these days. Ash and Cal are the ones dying their hair now, and Luke’s still the golden boy he always was. Mike girls have… what’s the phrase? Swerved into their lanes.” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying darkness to his words. He often felt insecure compared to his bandmates. In his eyes, he was the dorky nerd playing punk rock pretend.

“Keep doing that ‘so fuckin’ deep’ bit and the whole world will be Mike girls,” you assured him.

“Yeah? You think so?” he asked, his green eyes hopeful.

“I know so.”

His cheeks flushed. “Aw, baby.”

“Don’t get embarrassed. You, Michael Gordon Clifford, are hot. Devastatingly so.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyes darkening.

“Oh yeah,” you agreed, leaning up to kiss him. “So fuckin hot,” you murmured as you both deepened the kiss.

“Mmm,” he murmured back. “Gotta be quiet, princess,” he told you and you shivered. He only ever called you “princess” in very specific situations. You knew what was coming, the soft boyfriend flipping into rough dominance. “Can you do that for me?” His hands that held you to him started to wander, tracing a path over your hips and between your thighs.

You nodded, biting your lip as he pushed a finger in you.

He held you steady against him as his finger worked faster. When one finger wasn’t enough, he pushed in a second and you bit into his shoulder, a small moan escaping your lips anyway. “Quiet, princess, or I’ll make you quiet,” Mike tsked at you.

“Not in here, Mikey,” you breathed into his ear. Your knees got sore easily when he made you “be quiet” and you didn’t quite like the idea of your knees gouging into the tile floor of the shower.

His eyes softened the slightest bit at your words as he nodded. “Aw, does my princess wanna be loud for me?” his voice cooed in your ear, flipping back into the rough dominance.

“Yes, Mikey,” you whispered.

“You like when I make you quiet, don’t you, princess?”

“Mhm!” You were getting louder now, both with your responses and moans, as his fingers continued to work you over. “Close, Mikey,” you got out between panted breaths, feeling the knot in your stomach ready to come undone.

He spun you around so your back was to him, feeling him hard against your back. His free hand clapped over your mouth. “Cum for me, princess,” he coaxed, his thumb rubbing fast at your clit as his fingers pulled at your g-spot.

“Mikey!” you screamed around his hand, legs shaking.

“You’re so good for me, princess,” he praised, he fingers slowing down as you continued to shake.

“How is it that when you’re rough with me, you’re still gentle?” you asked, giggling slightly as your body relaxed from the high.

His eyes were soft again as he turned you back to face him, his face nuzzling into your neck to breathe you in. “It’s cuz I love you, baby. Don’t actually want to hurt you. And I can’t wear you out just yet.”

“Can you still make me be quiet, though?” you asked, your voice soft as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Only a little bit,” he compromised. “I’ve missed hearing you.”

“Well, let’s hurry this shower up then.”

~~~

“On your knees, princess,” he said, once the do not disturb card was on the hotel door.

You grinned wickedly at him and dropped to your knees on the pillow he had thoughtfully tossed to the floor. Your hands reached for his pants but he smacked you away. “Mikey,” you pouted.

“No hands, princess. I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Oh?” you asked, excitedly.

He dropped to his own knees, his hand grabbing your chin, his thumb tracing your lips. “Think you can handle that, princess?”

“Might wanna touch you, Mikey.”

“Might not have time for that,” he said, placing a sloppy kiss along your jaw before he stood up and dropped his pants and boxers.

Your hands reached out instinctively to stroke him, but his hands slapped yours away, harsher than the first time. “Mikey!” you pouted. “You’re not playing fair.”

“If you wanna touch something, touch yourself. All I want to feel right now is the back of your throat.”

“That’s deep,” you said, your eyes wide, as you pushed your own pants down.

“So fuckin deep,” he growled, before pushing his length into your mouth.

“Good, God,” you moaned around him.

“That’s not quiet, princess,” he tsked, as he started moving his hips back and forth, your tongue gliding across his cock.

“Do you care?” you asked, when he moved far enough out for you to speak somewhat clearly.

One of his hands grabbed at your chin, much rougher than he had previously, jerking your head up to look at him. “Right now? Yes.”

You gave a small nod of understanding and he released his grip. “Oh, and you better tell me before you cum,” he added with a pointed glance at your hand that was rubbing circles over your clit.

“Don’t I always?” you winked.

“Shut up,” he chuckled before he pushed his way back in your mouth.

His groans added with the fact you couldn’t touch him only worked you into more of a frenzy, your free hand moving your panties out of the way to give your working hand more access. You were grateful for Mike’s sex-crazed state that had him thrusting in and out of your mouth because it gave you more focus to attend to your own needs.

“Fuck, c’mere!” he growled, pulling out suddenly and jerking you to your feet.

“What are y- whoa!” you said as he pushed you backwards onto the bed. “Mikey, I was in the middle of something,” you grumbled.

“Here, let me, princess,” he winked, pushing your legs open and burying his head between you.

“Mikey!” you gasped as his tongue worked you over.

“You think I was just gonna listen to how wet I make you, and not get a taste?” his voice vibrated against you.

“Mikey! Not gonna last!”

“Aw, does my princess wanna cum?”

“Yes!” you said, gripping the sheets.

“Aw, you can ask better than that,” he teased, adding two fingers in you with ease.

You bit into your fist and shook your head.

“What’s wrong, princess? You can be loud now,” he told you, his free hand pulling your arm down.

“Mikey…” you writhed against him.

“Say what you want, princess.”

“Words. Can’t. Please!”

“Close enough,” he smirked, before pulling the orgasm from you.

When he didn’t let up, you kicked your legs, screaming. “Mikey!” you begged.

“One more, princess.”

“Mikey, please!”

“One more,” he said, more sternly, his free hand holding you down.

“Can I touch you, at least?” you whined, your squirming distracting him enough for you to somewhat catch your breath.

He rolled his eyes, but adjusted both of you so you could reach him and he could continue to drive you over the edge.

“Mikey!” you shrieked, gripping him hard as he tongue sucked on your sensitive clit.

“Give me one more, and then I’ll fuck you, princess.”

“Mikey…” you whined, needing him inside you.

“I said,” his voice growled, his hand holding you down as you squirmed, irritated with your impatience. “One. More!”

“MIKEY!”

“There it is,” he grinned. “See was that so hard, princess?” he continued to grin as he moved to kiss you.

“I thought you weren’t going to wear me out?” you asked, your chest heaving.

“We both know you can handle two orgasms, princess,” he winked, positioning himself above you.

“Three. You’re forgetting the shower one.”

“My point still stands. You can handle more, and we both know it, princess.”

“You still gotta let me breathe between the highs, Mikey.”

“Do you have your breath now, princess?”

“Yes… wh- OH GOD!” you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed into you.

“God, I’ve missed you, princess,” he said, placing sloppy kisses along your cheeks and neck, his hips slamming into yours as his hands gripped your arms.

“Mikey?”

“Yes, princess?” he grunted.

“Can you say it?”

“Say what?”

“Mikey…” you said, your eyes pleading.

“Oh,” he nodded, understanding. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming deep into you, making you gasp. “So. Fuckin. Deep!” he said, each word a new thrust. “Hmm? Is that what you wanted, princess? Wanted to feel me bury myself deep in you?”

“Yes! Mikey!” you nodded, feeling on the edge of another release.

“So fuckin deep,” he moaned slowly in your ear and you screamed his name in his.

~~~

“Mikey?” you asked, cuddled up in his arms.

“Hmm?”

“Can you do that every time we have sex?”

“Do what, baby?”

“The ‘so fuckin deep’ thing.”

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “You like that, huh?”

“It’s really hot,” you nodded.

“Maybe,” he conceded, and you knew all the words he wasn’t saying. He really didn’t like getting rough with you as his brain had a hard time separating the ravenous lust from the love he felt towards you.

“We can have soft sex, if you want,” you said, nuzzling your face into his, placing soft kisses along his jaw.

“Maybe in a bit. Wanna play videogames with me?”

“Mario Kart?”

“You’re on!” he grinned, scrambling out of bed to plug the gaming device into the TV.

“Hey Mikey?” you asked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

#so fuckin deep #michael clifford #michael fic #5sos #galcal irwin

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loveylangdon · 6 years ago

Text

Satisfied pt. 4

a/n: I am sooo sorry for such a late post ive learned when I give myself a deadline it rarely goes my way. I hope you guys enjoy. somewhat undedited please bear with me ive been sick for a couple of days and sick brain doesn't agree with me This doesn’t feel like my best work but feedback is always welcome thank yall soo much XX

masterlist in bio

Word count: 2.5k

*not my gif credit to owner*

“Connor fucking Brashier open this god damn door” you yelled leaning against it pounding your fist on the white wood.

This was bullshit, utter bullshit.

You talked to Brian 2 days ago about everything.

How it happened and how it didn’t change the way anyone felt about anything. You were drunk and Brian was probably a little more emotionally involved than you were, you were hurt to find out he wasn’t as gone as you were. He seemed to remember everything.

It sent you into a frenzy how could he consciously have taken advantage of your inhibited state, it felt like a betrayal. In actuality, both of you had foggy brains you just a bit more than him. Still, he knew how you felt about Shawn, why would he go and mess up a good thing.

That's where you both fucked up, you going to the first person connected to Shawn wanting to feel closer to him when the real reason Shawn didn’t fly home was that he flew to Amsterdam to meet up and sleep with some girl who lives there.

Brian thought he liked you, he liked the idea of what Shawn had with you. Someone who would wait around and answer every beck and call. You felt used and taken advantage of when Brian apologized profusely and started crying in front of you. You knew you guys should just blame it on the alcohol. Involving emotions was too real and too much. Involving a one-sided emotion would only end up with someone getting hurt and a worse situation.

Coming to a consensus you were both drunk, drunk beyond relief and he was tipsy enough to not think clearly put two of those people in a room, both of them needy and horny and you wake up the next morning having slept with one of your best friends.

While you and Brian talked about it you still felt gross, he knew you missed Shawn, he knew you were drunk and Brian took his chance thinking maybe you would want him instead. A school crush gone wrong he said. He also talked to Shawn or stopped honestly once he found out Shawn wasn’t talking to you ‘it takes two and it wasn’t just you, I did more of the work if anything’ he spoke out making you cringe. But like the adults, you both are you talked it through and got over it.

Here you were locked in Connor Brashier’s bedroom with the one and only Shawn Mendes after tweedle dee and tweedle dumb thought this was the only way to get you and Shawn talking again. Connor stuck by his “Talk to Brian first and then Shawn” bullshit and here you were trapped.

“Connor fucking Brashier open this god damn door I swear to god blue eyes you won’t look so cute when I get my hands on you” you yelled leaning against it pounding your fist on the white wood harder in hopes he would actually listen and unlock you and Shawn from the confinements of his room.

Shawn started chuckling looking over your shoulder at him he laid down on Connors bed arm draping over his eyes as he let out a sigh.

“He’s not coming back to open the door, They left” He spoke out towards you

Your eyes getting big “What?!” You asked surprised, your voice getting higher

“Yah Connor told me him and Brian had plans later tonight I assumed it was all of us just us two tagging along. Guess they really did have plans that didn’t involve us.” He turns onto his side and looks at you still leaning against the door.

Huffing you put your back to it and cross your arms over your chest “Okay Mendes this is where the gym comes in handy use your big ass arms and break the door” you speak seriously at him as his eyes get wide and he goes into a belly laugh “What? What's funny” you ask

“I am not breaking Tiny’s door” he chuckles looking at you

Raising your eyebrow up at him “What your muscles aren’t strong enough or you aren’t paying him enough to replace a piece of wood” you fire at him annoyed and wanting to get out of this tense atmosphere

Hurt flashed across his face “Why do you do that always taking a dig at me no matter what we’re talking about” he rolls back onto his back looking up at Connors ceiling going quiet. Leaving you both to your thoughts and confused mindset.

“Maybe if you kept your dick in your pants we wouldn’t even be in this situation” you mumbled under your breath rolling your eyes looking at the floor.

“Excuse me?” Shawn asked offended, hurt evident in his voice as he stood from the bed clearly having heard your comment.

“What,” you asked innocence in your voice “Did I lie?” You shoot at him hoping the more upset the more he would want out. While he actually had the strength to get you guys out he seemed unfazed by being confined within the 4 walls.

“How- What the actual fuck y/n are you serious right now?” He asks looking at you arms crossed over his own chest

“I mean obviously Connor and Brian locked us in here to talk so lets do it” you shrug and look up at him challenging him. You can see the defeat and mix of emotions in his eyes

“We’re not talking about where my dick has been” he huffs at you jaw clenched

“What why not too many girls to remember” you start “or do you only remember the pretty ones?” Raising your hand to hold your chin between your thumb and index finger you continue ”oh or the ones who take your phone and follow themselves on Instagram while you go down on them in a stall” You fire at him snapping your thumb 3 times for emphases. getting heated “You know what you probably only remember the ones that blew you in public huh, those real keepers a girl who will get on her knees for you at your convince”

You can see his jaw clench “This isn’t about me and you know it” he shoots at you while his neck is starting to turn a shade of pink and you can see his veins becoming prominent as it pulses in his neck

“Oh yeah right sorry, its about me being drunk and sleeping with one person who knew I was in love with you right” you shoot at him standing up straight his eyes going soft as you say the L word but you continue anyway “he knew but decided to sleep with me anyways while I couldn’t even fucking stand straight but its my fault right, because I couldn’t keep my legs closed when all I thought about was you” you yell at him fire coming out of your ears “yah I forgot you misogynistic asshole who doesn’t even have the decency to tell me when he’s slept with another girl but expects me to be the virgin fucking Mary when he leaves without a phone call” you scream at him and feel the tears in your eyes you turn quickly and push at the doorknob again with your entire body, back facing Shawn.

“y/n” Shawn starts

“Save it I don’t care” you whimper out pushing against the door again hoping with the rush of adrenaline was enough to give you super strength “I just want out” you growl in a low tone

You feel Shawn behind you and you move out of the way and wipe your eyes with your hand. moving around Shawn and through Connors room looking for the trophy he talks about but hates so much. Grabbing it from the top shelf of his you move back to the door and bump shoulders with Shawn who looks down at you confused.

Using the platform of the trophy you hit it against the doorknob where it's connected to the wood hoping the force and your rush of adrenaline would be enough to damage its hold and break you free from the confinements of your love confession and Shawns lack of.

“Woah Woah what are you doing you’re gonna break the trophy” Shawn comes over and pries the gold statue from your hands as you try to hold onto it surprise and shock clear in his voice as he tries to soothe you out of whatever brain fog seems to have its hold on you

“Fuck off Shawn I want out” you try to push him away with your shoulder still holding onto the trophy but he’s stronger and gently pries your fingers off holding the gold thing above your head.

“Breaking Connors shit isn’t going to help anything” he looks you in the eyes holding your gaze so you know he’s serious and you feel a wave of emotions wash over you. “They wanted us to talk things out not break shit” he huffs placing the trophy out of your reach you can tell he’s no longer angry at your attacks against him and he looks at you with soft eyes.

Emotions are surfacing and you can feel it. The room is thick with emotion and tension. You’re not so sure if Connor and Brian wanted you to talk things out or shut up and fuck each other. Seeing how this could have gone both ways you chuckle and curse Connor because knowing him he wanted the ladder so he can stop hearing you both complain.

You turn back to the door and start lightly kicking it gauging shawns reaction and turn your head to see his head in his hands chuckling lightly

“you’re going to be the death of me” he speaks out lowly and groans

“Maybe if you kicked this door down you could have a higher life expectancy,” you say knocking on the door lightly with your hand. You don't hear a response from him and you turn around slowly.

He's looking at you with the softest expression ever and suddenly you feel like crying again.

He takes a deep breath and he’s about to speak before he can you cut him off

“don’t” you look at him with pleading eyes and you see him furrow his eyebrows

“I-” you see him shake his head confusion Clear on his features

You sigh “Don’t get serious on me Mendes I don’t want to start crying and it's not going to change anything I get it.” You give him a soft smile “I slept with your best friend I would hate me too don’t need to apologize for something you’re going to hold against me forever.” You shrug your shoulders and look away from him picking at your nails “Don’t act like we can get past this because at first I thought we could and then you reacted the way you did and I knew we wouldn’t be able too.” You look at him and tilt your head so it's resting on your shoulder softly “We won’t get past this you can apologize and I can apologize and we can both accept that we’re sorry for doing what we did or how we reacted but in reality, you aren’t. You’re not sorry and I'm not gonna sit here and hear you say those words and not mean them. And quite frankly I don’t want this new image you have of me to overtake the good one, you’re going to resent me or Brian and I already know it's going to be me so don’t make it any harder for both of us. Just don’t apologize for it okay I get it” you shrug again biting your lip. you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you sigh looking at the ceiling

He can apologize all he wants but he’s never truly going to forgive you and you know if anything or any type of relationship was to ensue after this he was going to use Brian against you any chance he got because he was guilty of the same thing. Is guilty of doing the exact same thing sleeping with another person. That's what hurt the most, not that he was mad at you for sleeping with Brian that he was mad at himself for doing it more than you have and you never calling him out for it. The guilt was eating at him and you saw it.

You heard him take a deep breath

“I can never resent you” you hear him get up and walk over to you cautiously

You look at him but not up at him and see that he’s right in front of you, you feel him wrap his arms around you cautiously and pull you into his chest you don’t know you’re crying until you feel the wet blotches on his shirt and he’s repeatedly telling you how sorry he is in your ear. You feel his heartbeat and his arms tightly around you his head on top of yours and know that this is home.

----

a/n: sorry again for the late upload I've been dealing with a lot and this story isn’t feeling like its flowing idk. Thank you all for the kind words feedback is greatly appreciated masterlist can be found in bio xx

some of the tags weren't working im sorry

Tag list: @anyasthoughts @haileyofthefandoms @winterin127 @ucanttakemyyouth @turtoix @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @shawn-youth @unsolvedhearts @shawn-youth @mariamuses @crowdedimagines @lovablefangirl @sixwyrxstuff @ivegotparticulartaste @shawnandconnor @dreamersseeincolor

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes blurb #connor brashier #connor brashier x reader

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 5 years ago

Text

A Silent Refuge

Summary: While having a 'spider-sense' can come in handy, it can also be a hindrance. Especially when the constant hum keeps you awake at night. Peter learns that there is one place he can go that feels safe enough to silence his heightened awareness and it's where Tony is.

Warnings: none

Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark and May Parker Co-Parenting Peter Parker, Tired Peter Parker, Fluff ... ...

Word Count: 3653

Link to Post on AO3: A Silent Refuge- happyaspie

Tony woke up entirely too early in the morning to his phone instantly vibrating on the table beside his bed. When it finally went quiet he sighed and tried to go back to sleep only to have it start up again immediately after. With a groan, he haphazardly felt around on the table until he had the offending device in his hand and then fumbled to answer it without ever looking to see who was calling. There was only a short list of people who could reach him through the one line that didn't go through FRIDAY and if they felt the need to call him twice in rapid succession, then he figured it must be at least somewhat important. "What's up?"

"Is Peter with you?", the voice on the other line asked and it took Tony longer than it should have to figure out who was talking to him. In fact, he had to pull the phone away from his ear and glance down at the name before it clicked and his sleep-rattled brain slowly started to work things out. It was May and she was asking him about the kid. Pete. Peter. She thought Peter was with him?

"No. Why would be he be with me?", he asked with confusion. It was way too early on a... whatever day it was for the kid to be with him.

"I don't know!", May clipped and Tony was suddenly awake enough to register how distressed she sounded. "I went into his room this morning to make sure he was getting up for school and he wasn't there. There's no note, he's not answering his phone and he's not with Ned, so I was hoping that you had him.", she asked, her voice sounding more and more perturbed the longer she spoke.

"May... I would never come to collect your kid in the middle of the night without saying something. I'm not that irresponsible.", Tony said as he sat up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Then he remembered that at one time he's lied to the woman and hauled her nephew out of the country without her knowledge and gave in a little. "Okay, maybe I am but I didn't. He's not with me. Let me pull up the suit stats. Maybe he got up before you and went out for an early morning swing.", he said with an exhausted sigh but May didn't seem to think that was the case being as she was once again huffing in his ear.

"You don't understand. He's not answering his phone, Tony. Oh, god what if he's hurt?", she said with growing anxiety that was starting to send ripples of worry through Tony as well. Especially when the console he used to monitor the Spider-suit came up blank.

"The suits not active.", he stated not quite masking his own concern. "Jesus. Okay.", he started as he ran his hands down his face and let out a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going to have FRIDAY track his last location and check the surveillance. I'll let you know when I find something. You just hang tight in case he returns home."

"Please, just find my kid.", May returned without missing a beat.

"I'll find him.", Tony assured ahead of abruptly ending the call. A thousand thoughts were running through his mind as he stepped into a pair of sweat pants. It was times like these that he was thankful for his AI assistant. He didn't have to waste any time. She could get started while he finished throwing a shirt over his head and made his way to the lab. "FRIDAY? Pull up the Spider-suit's tracker and pinpoint its last coordinates for me, will you dear?"

Not even two seconds passed before the AI was dutifully responding with the information that he'd requested "The last known location was recorded at one-thirty-two in the morning. I'm sending you the coordinates to you now."

Tony felt his watch twitch and looked down at the location expecting to see it somewhere in Queens. Maybe even in the kid's closet but that wasn't the case and he brought his brows together with perplexity. "That's a block from the Tower. What on Earth was he doing there?", he rhetorically questioned but the AI responded anyway.

"I believe he was using the suit as a means of transportation.", FRIDAY replied and Tony rolled his eyes.

"He usually does.", Tony said with mild frustration as he too tried to dial Peter's number only to be sent straight to voicemail. The kid never had his phone turned off and that sent his lingering worry over the edge causing unfavorable thoughts to flow endlessly through his head. "I swear, if it wasn't frowned upon by every single government agency on the planet, I would put a tracker in back of the kid's neck.", he said through his teeth.

"That would be a human rights violation at best, Boss.", the AI chimed in, only adding to Tony's annoyance.

"Thanks, dear but I'd already figured that out for myself.", he acknowledged while simultaneously opening up all of the screens in front of him. "Pull up the surveillance footage and let's see if we can figure out what our resident spiderling was up to. Hopefully not getting kidnapped because it is way too early in the morning to deal with anything like that.", he said in an attempt to keep things light but in reality that was his number one fear at the moment. That the kid had snuck off and then gotten captured. There were people out there that would love to get their hands on Spider-man. Then just as he was starting to spiral, FRIDAY spoke up and eased the panic.

"Mr. Parker was not kidnapped.", the AI informed causing Tony's nack to snap up from where he's been staring at the floor. FRIDAY wasn't programmed to lie under any circumstances and that meant that she'd already been able to deduce something he just didn't know what and even though no more than half a second had passed he was already beyond aggravated at the lack of instant explanation.

"Is there something you're not telling me because I'm starting to get a little anxious here.", he snapped. "If you know something that I don't, now would be an excellent time for you to fill me in."

"Mr. Parker entered the building at one-forty-two via the furthermost window of your private lab and has been asleep on the couch in the corner ever since. Would you like me to wake him?"

Tony's brain completely stalled at the information. He felt swindled. Outraged. The kid was currently occupying the very room he was sitting in. Granted it was a large room and the couch was in the furthest corner but the fact that he'd not been informed was maddening. "I'm sorry, Did you just tell me that the kid has been back there for the last...", He glanced down at his watch, "...six and a half hours and you just now decided to tell me?"

"Mr. Parker has full access to your private lab and requested that I not--", FRIDAY began to designate but Tony wasn't interested in the AI's miscalculated reasoning. Just because the kid had access to the lab didn't mean he wanted him to come and go without notice. JARVIS would have inferred that on his own. He was intuitive, could practically read his mind and-- he didn't have time to think about that as another notion invaded his thought process.

"--Wait, he's not hurt is he?", he asked, his heart beginning to palpitate in his chest as he awaited the answer.

"No injuries or illnesses were detected upon his arrival. Other than some minor sleep deprivation, Mr. Parker seems to be in excellent health.", FRIDAY said and Tony ran his hands through his hair and took several deep breaths. Once his heart had gone back to a more normal rhythm he stood up and began to weave through the various machines as he made his way towards the far end of the sprawling workshop where, sure enough, Peter was laying there completely knocked out.

For several seconds, Tony watched the boy's chest rise and fall in a soothing manner. He had one arm tucked under his head as a pillow and the other dangling over the side, his fingers brushing the floor while both knees were pulled up towards his chest. It didn't look overly comfortable but the kid's slack features seemed to say otherwise. He almost hated to wake him. Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was May. A quick text to inform her that her nephew was alive, well and in his care, he leaned over to shake Peter awake. "Time to rise and shine, Spiderling.", he said just loud enough to cause the teenager to stir.

"Mr. Stark?", Peter slurred as he opened his eyes.

"In the flesh.", Tony returned with a fond smile. Even with a little bit of drool on the corner of his mouth, the kid looked sort of cute, laying there with his hair sticking up as it was. "What are you doing here, kiddo? Not that I don't enjoy your company but it's a school day and your aunt was kind of freaking out.", he said making the teenager shoot up into a sitting position so fast that it made his own head swim.

"Shoot! I overslept. I need to call her!", Peter said as he hurriedly pulled his phone out of his pocket only to realize that it was dead. "Shoot! She's going to kill me."

Smiling at the early morning dramatics, Tony sat himself down beside the stressed-out looking teenager and patted him on the knee. "I've already let her know that your safe and with me.", he and then paused as the softness he'd been feeling started to fade into minor irritation. Mostly because his pocket was still buzzing with was no doubt, numerous questions form May. Questions he couldn't yet answer. "You know, after adamantly insisting that you weren't with me when she called this morning. So, how about we backtrack to my first question. What are you doing here?"

"Sleeping?", Peter apprehensively responded.

"Okay...", Tony said with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Is there something wrong with your own bed?"

"No, but...", Peter began to but then found himself unable to locate the words necessary to explain any further. Partially because he wasn't sure he wanted to. Being caught had not been a part of his plan but Tony was looking at him with rapt anticipation and he knew he had to say something. "It's kind of hard to explain?"

"Well, I'm going to need you to give it the good ole college try because you showing up in my lab unannounced before dawn is worrisome.", Tony countered with seriousness and gave a curt nod of his head. "Which reminds me. FRIDAY? New rule. Anytime the kid enters or exits the building I want a heads up. Every time. No matter what. We'll call it the Baby Gate Protocol.", he added with a smirk, fully aware of how much the kid would hate the diminutive name.

With a deep sigh, Peter looked down at the floor where he'd kicked his shoes off upon his arrival. He was already resigning himself to the fact that he would never be able to stealthily enter the building by any means ever again FRIDAY would no longer comply with his request to remain unattended. "That's not really necessary, Mr. Stark.", he tried.

"Apparently it is considering I spent the last fifteen minutes tracking your location only to find out that, surprise!... you were literally across the room from me the whole time.", Tony said in exasperation. "Inept and uninformed is not a good look on me. So, forgive me for preventing it from happening again... and for the third time.", he pressed, "Why are you here?"

"I can't sleep at home.", Peter answered in defeat. "I mean I can but it's, it's hard and I was so tired and my spider-sense wouldn't shut up so, so I came here.", he quietly explained.

Tony looked at the kid beside him with a wrinkle of concern etched across his brow. "Doesn't your spider-ESP usually warn you that you're in danger", he asked because it made no sense that the kid would never leave May at risk. He would protect her with his life.

"Yes but no.", Peter said with a shrug of his shoulders and another sigh. He legitimately didn't know how to expound on the subject. Even he wasn't one-hundred percent clear on how his spider-sense worked sometimes. "It does the thing where it makes my hairs stand on end when there's an immediate threat but it's also just always there in the back of my skull. Except it's more of a constant, quiet hum. Just enough to keep me alert. During the day it's fine. I only really notice it at night anymore but sometimes there are nights where its more annoying than others and I just... can't sleep."

Tony made sure to maintain eye contact to show that he was listening. He had no experience with spider-induced anxiety but he certainly knew a thing or two about insomnia. "So... you thought you would come by and mess around in the lab by yourself?", he asked dubiously by virtue of the fact that he was still unclear as to how the sleep-deprived teenager ended up on his couch.

"No, Mr. Stark. Just sleep.", Peter said as he chewed on his bottom. "Like do you remember last week when you had to wake me up after I fell asleep with my head on your desk?", he asked and waited for him mentor to say that he did. "Well, I realized that day that my spider-sense is quiet when I'm here. Like super, quiet and I think it's because it just feels really, really safe when I'm here.", he adamantly replied before wavering slightly as he weighed his next words. "I think, I think it has to do with you. ...because when you're around, I can sleep without having to force myself to ignore that buzz. It's like my DNA knows that you have the ability to take care of me while I rest.", he said and almost felt bad about it. He knew May would always try to protect him too but the fact of the matter was that she was vulnerable and Tony... he was Iron Man.

Smiling fondly, Tony wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders. He wholly understood the levity that came with that admission. "I'm glad you feel safe with me, Buddy.", he gently replied and after that, things grew quiet with thought. He'd met the kid months ago and at that time the teenager had said that he'd acquired his abilities six months prior. He wondered if something had changed or if the kid had honestly gone that long without a good night's sleep. "You've had your powers for a while now. How have you been dealing with that all this time?"

"Well, that's why I would patrol so late at night. If I exerted enough energy to become exhausted, it made it easier to sleep and I guess I just sort of got used to not getting a full night's sleep. Then when Aunt May found out about everything and gave me a curfew it made things more difficult. Sometimes, I'm so tired I can't think straight but all I can do is stare at the ceiling. I knew if I came here I could sleep and I thought I set an alarm on my phone so that I could get home before your or May found out but I guess my battery died. I didn't mean to make everyone worry. I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark.", Peter shot back all in one continuous ramble, taking a sharp intake of air at the end.

"Calm down, kiddo. We know you're safe now and that's what matters the most. We're going to have to come up with a better plan for you to get some sleep though. I can't have you sneaking in through my windows at all hours and you should be sleeping in an actual bed and not on an old worn-out couch.", Tony said as he pulled the kid into his side could feel him instantly relax against him and sighed contentedly. He had Pepper, Rhodey and Happy but even still, it had been an exceptionally long time since anyone had told him that they trusted him so extensively and it felt good to have someone else by his side. "We'll talk to your Aunt. Maybe you can stay here overnight sometimes. At least on the weekends.", he said before thoughtfully adding, "Of course, by here, I mean in the bedroom I'm going to set up for you in the penthouse."

"You don't have to do that, Mr. Stark. I mean I would really appreciate being allowed to sleep there sometimes but I don't need you to give me a room or anything. The couch is fine, I promise.", Peter replied but he couldn't entirely stop himself from smiling at the man's offer. Being invited to spend some nights there was amazing enough without the added grandeur of knowing he would have a space set aside just for him.

"No, It's not fine. You need a room with a bed and I'm going to do that for you. Now, from what I can figure, you're already late for school so, you may as well come upstairs with me while I call your aunt. I'll make you some breakfast and then you can take a nap.", Tony said as he tried to formulate a plan for exactly how he was going to relay all of this newly acquired information to May. Although, his thoughts were interrupted sooner than they had the chance to flow.

"--I can't just skip school, Mr. Stark!", Peter squawked despite the fact that he had to have already missed at least one period.

Tony chuckled and gave the boy's shoulders a firm squeeze. "Pete, you just sat there and told me that you haven't had a good night's sleep in months so I'm afraid that I'm going to have to insist. I'm sure May will agree once I explain everything to her. I'll even write you an excuse. How about that?", he asked with a smile, though his tone didn't no margin for argument.

Suddenly realizing how tired he still was, Peter nodded his head and yawned so wide that his eyes watered.

Giving an approving nod, Tony led them both upstairs where he took to the stove to make an omelet while Peter made use of the bathroom. Then, once he had the kid settled at the kitchen table he disappeared to talk to May in the privacy of his office. It took very little persuasion to get her to agree to allow her nephew to spend a few nights a week at the tower. Especially if it meant that he wouldn't allow himself to get so exhausted that he felt the need to sneak off in the middle of the night again and Tony couldn't have been happier with the new arrangement. He'd not realized exactly how close he'd actually gotten to the kid until he was being faced with a near panic attack at the prospect of him having gone missing. Consequently, he was still smiling to himself as he reentered the kitchen.

"Everything's all set. Your curfew had officially been extended by half an hour and May agreed that you need a day off. She also agreed that from now on you can spend your weekends with me.", Tony said with an unwavering grin. "If you want to of course."

"I would love that, sir. If you're sure it's okay, I mean.", Peter said with a smile of his own, soon after hopping up to place his dishes neatly into the sink.

"It's fine. Better than fine, it's great. Means I'll have you around to do all the heavy lifting in the lab those days. My back can only take so much and the Iron Man armor isn't as comfortable as you would think. This is an absolute win for me.", Tony flippantly replied and then gestured for the boy to follow him up the stairs. "This is my room", he said as he lay his hand on the closed door at the front of the wide hall before turning to open the door that was adjacent to it. "...and this is going to be your room", he pointed out while watching the kid's eyes light up at the sight. "We'll have to get you some stuff to keep here and redecorate so that it suits you but there's a bathroom, a walk-in closet and the bed should be comfortable enough."

"This is amazing. Thank you, Mr. Stark.", Peter replied all starry-eyed and grateful.

"You're welcome, kid.", Tony said, chuckling at the way the teenager dramatically fall backward onto the mattress. "Now you go ahead and get some rest. I'll have FRIDAY will tell me when you're up and then I can drive you home.", said with some remorse. He would have loved to have had to kid stay there for the whole day but his aunt had insisted that he needed to get home. Though he was already looking forward to the weekend.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Mr. Stark.", Peter said as he peeled back the duvet and climbed under the sheet.

"You're more than welcome.", Tony returned as he gave in to the urge to run his fingers through the boy's hair, smiling when the kid leaned into his touch. "Good-night, Buddy.", he whispered and then quietly slipped out of the bedroom.

#cross-post #ao3fic #Marvel #MCU #tony stark & peter parker #peter parker #Tony Stark #dad!tony #irondad and spiderson #fanfiction #fluff #I'm starting to figure this out!

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smol-and-grumpy · 6 years ago

Text

Dear Dean (Chapter 16)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 7.1k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fluff but also a lot of hope

SERIES MASTERLIST

April 29th, 1945

“What’s your name?”

Dean looked at the soldier who had a tight grip on his arm as he walked him out of the camp. There were American soldiers everywhere, and they loaded up the POWs into deuce-and-a-halfs.

“Winchester. Dean Winchester.” Dean replied, his mouth felt dry.

The soldier stalled to scribble something on a piece of paper. “What’s your rank? Which was your company?”

Dean took his time to remember. “Lieutenant,” He began to speak. “Lieutenant Dean Winchester, 2nd Battalion, 116th Regiment, 29th Infantry Division. Baker Company.”

“Alright,” He scribbled it down before he guided Dean to the truck. “You’re going to be alright, Lieutenant. We’ll get you checked up and if there should be anything you need, just let us know.”

“You should take care of the others first. I’m okay.” Dean said as he looked around. There were prisoners and soldiers everywhere and it was hard to keep track, but there were people who needed help more than he did. He was walking and talking, he was alright.

“Sir, we’re going barrack by barrack. It’s alright, you just let us take care.”

“My.. shit,” Dean wanted to turn around, run back to his barrack to retrieve the letters that he had stuffed into a musette bag. “My letters, I gotta go back for them.”

“No problem, sir. They’re all here.” The soldier patted the bag that he hung around his shoulder.

“Oh,”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to leave important things, behind, would we. I know how important these are.” He smiled to him. The soldier waited until Dean was sitting in the deuce-and-a-half. He saluted Dean before the truck drove off with Dean sitting there, clinging to his musette bag.

May 1st, 1945

Everything happened so quick. Dean thought he was dreaming. The liberation. Prisoners cheering and then the long drive in the bed of the truck until they brought him over to England for a check up.

“Shit, your leg is fucked up.” The doctor said to him.

“Tell me something I don’t know, doc.” Dean replied dryly. He didn’t want to actually stay there longer than he had to. If he had a say, he’d be on a freaking boat sailing towards homeland right about now.

But apparently, that wasn’t good enough for them to let him go. “We have to fix it properly.” They were so adamant to fix things. As if they were trying to make good on leaving him behind. There was no other option for Dean than to undergo a surgery, let them break his leg again and put on a cast so it could grow back properly.

However, they were so understaffed that they could only get him into surgery in two weeks time, since his case is not deemed a priority.

He met Harvelle though, so that was a good thing. Harvelle saluted him when he came to stand before him in the hospital corridor. He looked good. Dean thought he looked excellent for what he went through.

“Sir.” Harvelle said and Dean could see the glimmer of tears in the sergeant’s eyes.

Fuck this. Dean thought to himself and pulled Harvelle in for a hug.

They spent the afternoon together, sitting and talking.

“I’m going home.” Harvelle said, a grin on his face.

“Yeah, you go there, tell them I’m coming, too.”

“I’m so glad I ran into you, sir.” Harvelle got up to his feet and he faced Dean. He saluted one last time and Dean did the same. “It was a pleasure and an honor to serve with you, Lieutenant. I’m glad you were my leader.”

“Oh please, no chick flick moments, alright?”

They both chuckled behind tears.

“Tell Bambi hi from me, alright.”

“Yeah. I will.” Dean didn’t want to tell Harvelle that he didn’t even know if Jamie wanted to see him. He didn’t know if Bambi was still waiting or not. He was going to go there anyway, even if it was only for him to give her the letters. He wasn’t writing to her anymore. Hadn’t been since he was liberated. He would rather talk to her in person.

June 21st, 1945

Dean sat on a bus, riding towards Trenton, North Carolina with a weird feeling in his gut. He had to stop over night and booked himself a small motel room, but he couldn’t sleep. Counting sheep did not work at all. His mind was racing around Bambi. He wondered how she would react to seeing him again, but most of all, if she’d remember him at all.

He contacted Cas and caught up with him while he was recovering from his surgery. He begged for Cas to give him Bambi’s address. Cas was doing great. He’d been promoted to Captain after Dean was reported MIA. He still had a long military career ahead of him, and he was going to stay in Germany for quite a while longer.

Dean still had a cast. He was impatient to get on a ship. They said that it would take another two weeks until he could take it off, but he couldn’t wait. He thought that he had waited long enough.

He walked weirdly from the bus station to Jamie’s house and people were staring. To be fair, he couldn’t blame them. His cast ended just below his knee. He had his uniform pants cut off just above the knee and there was a patch of exposed flesh, but yeah, Dean simply didn’t care. The bar of shame was only so high as people would allow it and honestly, Dean’s bar was non existent. He’d lost all of his shame back in Germany, at the latest when Benjamin came barging in when Dean was jerking off to Bambi’s picture.

His heart was beating out of his chest when he walked down the driveway of the house. He was sure it could be heard from miles away. It reminded him of the rhythmic sound of army boots on dirt roads that used to calm him.

The house still looked like in the picture that Jamie sent him. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was still high in the sky and the wind carried a salty tint to it. Dean saw the mailbox. Blum was painted onto it in uneven and colorful letters. They probably did it while they were still kids, or Jamie did it. He figured he should probably not mention it to avoid a dig in his rib cage.

He walked up to the mailbox and his eyes fell to the porch. There was a man sitting in a lazy chair.

Dean gulped, swallowing down the anxiety that burned in his throat as his eyes settled on a newborn baby in the man’s arms. Dean could’ve died right there.

She moved on. She’s a mother.

Dean could see that the man’s right leg was missing. Probably a veteran like he was. It made sense that Jamie would find comfort in someone who knew what she went through. Dean just wished that someone was him.

The man eyed him up suspiciously, and he already had a hand on his stick, ready to stand up and probably chase him away.

Dean stalled for a moment.

“Good evening, sir.” He was there for a reason, after all, whether she waited or not. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. It was the least he could do. Dean began to stutter. “I..uh..I-I..I’m looking for Jamie.”

“She’s inside.”

Shit, why did he think that coming there would be a good idea? She probably didn’t even want to see him. Clearly Jamie moved on, and Dean was happy for her. He really was, but it hurt nonetheless. He had a hard time staying straight faced.

“Should I call her?” The man asked.

“I..uh..no, no. That’s okay.” Dean walked closer and leaned his stick against the house, before he opened up his bag that he still had slung around his shoulder.

He fished out the letters with trembling fingers. He didn’t know why he was so clumsy all of a sudden, but he dropped half of the pages. They fluttered to the ground in what felt like slow motion. When Dean tried to retrieve them, his bag hit the ground, sending his stick onto the ground, too.

He left the bag and everything on the ground and came up red faced. Dean felt his ears burning up from shame. Guess the bar wasn’t that high after all, huh? His fingers tried to sort themselves through the pages of letters, careful not to mess up the order. He knew the man had to want him to leave. Dean looked like a bumbling idiot, shuffling papers on his hands and knees in front of his old flame’s home, staring straight into the eyes of her new husband and child. “I.. shit, I just wanted to give her these, sir.” He was still sorting it through when the man called in for Jamie, the newborn still sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Dean could hear footsteps on the inside, and shit, Dean wasn’t prepared. He suddenly wished his leg was healed so he could run. He rehearsed it in his head, imagined their reunion, but he had never imagined what he would do if he saw another man with a baby on her porch.

She was coming out, and Dean was still awkwardly sorting through the letters.

Shit, his heart was beating out of his chest. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like seeing her anymore. He felt like he was making a huge mistake. After all that time and everything that he’d been through, he knew that his luck wasn’t good enough to have things go well. You get what you get.

“Doesn’t matter, sir. I’ll be..I’ll just see myself out. I’ll be out of your hair in a bit… I… uh… I just wanna leave them here.” Finally he rearranged the letters and placed them onto the stairs. He put a stone he found on it as not to let the wind carry the pages away.

Dean picked up his bag, his stick, and he was already turning around when he heard her voice.

“Dean?”

Shit.

Dean closed his eyes at the sound of her voice.

He didn’t know if he should turn around. Didn’t know if he wanted to see her, because if he saw her, he would have a fucking damn hard time walking away from her. Dean knew that much.

“Dean, is that you?”

He still had his eyes close and breathed in and out. He never thought it would be so hard to turn around and see her again.

“Dean.”

Her voice was shaking, and Dean had to. He knew that he had to turn around.

He swallowed down the tears that were biting in the back of his skull, because he didn’t want her to see him cry.

And then he turned.

Jamie stood on the porch, and she looked as beautiful as ever. No, that was a lie. She was more beautiful now. She had curves and her hair was long. She was not the private anymore. She was a beautiful girl with a sundress that complimented her eyes. The eyes that were still the same size and oh god, that smile that made Dean’s knees weak.

She let out a squeal of excitement before she ran down the steps and flung herself into his arms, and Dean wasn’t prepared. He dropped his bag and stick quickly and he wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t steady on his leg, but he managed to not fall on his ass when she collided with him.

She wrapped her legs around his body, hooking her bare feet at his back, her soles digging into his spine. His arms wrapped around her, holding her up, and one resting on the back of her neck as he pressed her closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and cried. Dean felt her tears streaking his neck and fuck, he cried, too. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent that she carried. It wasn’t camouflage cream and war. It was sweet Summer breeze and flowers.

Bambi looked at him as she cradled his cheeks between the palms of her hands. She trailed her fingers across his face, painting his eyebrows with the tip of them, connecting his freckles, and she looked at him so intense, as if she didn’t believe that he was there. She kissed him then, and it felt like something Dean has been waiting to do for so long. It was sweet and reminded him of honey. It was just the two of them in the entire world.

“It’s you.” She muttered when she parted and rested her forehead on his. “It’s really you.”

“I made it.” He sniffed. “I promised.”

“You did.” She smiled, kissing the tip of his nose.

And then it was like she remembered something. “Sam?”

Dean closed his eyes as another flood of tears were stinging at them. “No.” It was the only thing he could say, and she understood because she hugged him tighter, letting him bury his face in the warmth of her hair and neck. Dean cried.

“I’m sorry.” She said over and over, and Dean nodded. He knew that she was.

Jamie didn’t ask where he was and what took him so long. Never asked why he didn’t answer her. All of it didn’t matter at the moment, and Dean was glad because he wouldn’t know how to begin to tell her about all the things he’d been through. She’d read it in the letters, he thought.

After a while, she writhed herself out of his grip, and Dean put her back down. “I’m sorry, I should have said that I’m coming. I just.. I’m not staying. I just wanted to drop the letters.” Dean pointed his chin towards the letter, well aware that the man was still watching them. What kind of man lets his woman kiss another man right in front of him? Dean figured the guy should kick his ass, but he was grateful that he didn’t.

She picked up the letters and walked back to Dean. “You never got the chance to send them.”

“No.”

She nodded at him and then her free hand found his, and she laced her fingers through them before she smiled. “Come on, I want you to meet someone special.”

Someone special.

It felt like someone shot a hole through Dean’s heart. He didn’t want to back out now, though. He’d come that far. Jamie was still someone who kept him alive, and the very least Dean could do was being civil about it.

He climbed up the porch, his cast banged against the wood, and he told them that he was sorry for the loud noise he was making. He was afraid that he would wake up the baby.

Dean stood there, facing the man, and the baby in the man’s arm was still sleeping peacefully. What an angel.

“Sir, you’re Lieutenant Winchester?” The man asked him and there was an excitement in his voice. Something Dean couldn’t miss.

“Yes.”

“Well, shit, Jamie. He’s even better looking than in the photograph!” The man grinned brightly and looked from Bambi back to Dean.

Is he? Dean didn’t know, he thought he was probably doing alright again. He’d lost a lot of weight, but it was slowly coming back. He’d been eating for three lately and sun did kiss his skin good on the way over on the deck of the ship.

“Shut it.” Bambi said, taking the newborn from the man’s grip, and Dean smirked when he saw her blushing.

The man saluted him then. “Sir, thank you for your service and for looking out for my sister.”

“Sister?” Dean was confused.

“Yeah, sister. Come on, don’t tell me that you still don’t know that she’s not a man.” He joked and started to laugh while Dean looked at Bambi with wide eyes. Bambi laughed too, leaving Dean puzzled.

“That’s Jameson, Dean. They found him, dehydrated and weak. He’d been shot and the leg already started to stink.”

Dean could feel his heart making somersaults.

“Like cheese that’s way over the date, sir.” Jameson added, and Dean frowned at the comment.

“James! Ew. We didn’t need the details.” Bambi laughed at her brother. “Anyway, they patched him up real nice, but he lost his leg. I’ve just been informed about it a couple of weeks after I got back.”

“Shit, Jameson. Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand for Jameson to take, but Jameson opted for a hug instead. “Oh, alright.” Dean chuckled and patted Jameson’s back.

“Was that the big news you wanted to tell me in person?” Dean couldn’t help but remember the last letter she sent out to him.

“Yeah, that. But also, this.” She held out the newborn for Dean to take. He looked at the child with wide eyes. He didn’t know how he should hold such a damn small baby.

“I..uh..I shouldn’t. I’ve never…” Dean didn’t want to drop it, especially since he felt like he was having an extra clumsy day.

“Come on, it’s not that hard, Dean.”

“Yeah, just put your arms like that.” Jameson showed him, folding his arms in front of his chest, and Dean mimicked Jameson.

Before Dean could say anything more or tell Bambi that he wasn’t ready yet, she laid the newborn into his arms. He couldn’t help but looking at it and kinda try to hold onto it tight.

Dean marveled at the baby in his arms. He studied the baby’s face. He couldn’t unsee that it had faint freckles, and the tip of the baby’s nose was shaped like his. The baby yawned and blinked a couple of times before it drifted back to sleep.

“It’s a girl.” Bambi said. “Her name’s Hope.” She stood here, hugging herself as she watched Dean with the baby in his arms, a warm smile on her face. “Because I never stopped hoping that you’d be coming back. I never wanted to lose hope so that’s why I will always have Hope to remind me.” Jamie brushed away the tears that fell down her cheek.

It dawned on Dean then, and he gasped. Suddenly his knees felt much weaker than before. He walked to the chair, shoving past Jameson. He was sorry, but he needed to sit the fuck down.

Dean took a seat in the lazy chair, little Hope still tight in his grip, and his arms were cramping because he was afraid he’d drop her. Jamie came to sit on the arm of the chair.

Dean needed a moment to rest, to clear his mind, and he wished he had his hands free to rub the bed of sweat off his face.

“I-is she?” His voice came out a little strangled, a little shaky.

“Yours, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes started to tear up. His vision blurred and shit, he really wished he had a hand free to wipe it away before it would run down his cheeks.

Bambi’s fingers were there quick, though. Brushing the tears away as they about to drop down and Dean sniffed.

“How?” It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. It was really more like how?

“I don’t know. Guess my body still worked, even though I haven’t had my period for years.”

“When?” Dean’s mind couldn’t form more than one word at the moment, but thankfully she understood him.

“She came early. May 13th.”

“Shit.”

Dean thought back. He was out already. If he would have gone back straight away, if they would have let him, he would have been there. “I’m sorry. I was out of the camp by then. I was having surgery in England on that day. I… shit, I should have just.. shit, Jamie I missed it. I’m sorry.”

He looked up into her eyes, and she was smiling down at him. “It’s ok.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder and Dean looked back to the little girl in his arm. His little girl.

“Would you like to stay?” She asked him.

He looked back up at her, his heart started to beat faster because those were the words he was hoping to hear for forever. “If you let me, I’d love to, yes.”

After dinner, they sat comfortably on the couch which turned out to be Jameson’s bed, because he couldn’t take the narrow stairs up and down on his own.

“Couch by day, my bed by night.” Jameson declared, and he was so proud of it when he showed them how the couch folds out to be a bed.

Dean was still holding his little girl in his grip, she was sleeping so peacefully. He was afraid that if he let her go, she’d be screaming bloody murder. He remembered how he was holding Sam when Sam was still just a baby and every time he’d put Sam down, Sam would cry for him to take him back into Dean’s arm.

“Dean, you ok?” Bambi asked when she finished clearing the table, and it pulled Dean out from his thoughts.

“Huh?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, fine.”

She smirked at him. “Just..uh.. you look a little stiff, there. You sure, you alright, Lieutenant?”

Dean looked from the baby up to Bambi who came to stand in front of him. “Yeah..uh.. I.. well, not going to lie. I’m sweating bullets here, and I think I have a cramp in my left arm. But I’m fine, alright. Everything’s fine.”

Jamie pulled a face before she laughed at him. “You know that you can relax, right? You’re not going to drop her.”

“How do you know?” Dean ask snappishly.

Bambi dropped to her knees in front of him. “Because I trusted you with my life, and I trust you with hers. Relax, Dean, alright?” She put her hand on his thighs and rubbing against it. It strangely helped to calm him down.

“Alright you two lovebirds, I’m out. Don’t wait up.” Jameson called out. He secured a prosthetic leg around to his thighs and walked awkwardly to the door.

“Wait, is she here already?” Bambi asked her brother, following him to the door.

“Not yet but I’ll wait on the porch.”

“Take care alright, I’ll have your bed ready for when you’re home.” She kissed Jameson on his cheek before he walked out.

“Where is he going?” Dean asked when Jamie came back into the room.

“He has a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, apparently the girls are swooning over him. I mean, he’s lovable, a war hero. They even come here to pick him up. Can you imagine?”

Dean was laughing. “He’s getting around, huh?”

“Ugh..tell me about it, but it’s good. It makes him forget that sometimes, he doesn’t have a leg, you know. And of course it makes him forget the war and that we’ve lost all we had in there.”

“Yeah.” Dean knew what she meant.

“So,” Jamie clapped her hands together. “Do you maybe wanna take a shower and take the day off your skin? You’ve been traveling for so long and don’t forget the sweat of fear when you thought that Jameson was my new man.”

“I didn’t.” Dean gasped, and he tried not to blush.

“Of course you didn’t.” Bambi made a face and nodded at him with a grin. He wanted to shut her up, preferably with a kiss.

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t.” He protested. “Oh, shut up.”

Dean thought about it. He’d really been sweating bullets since he arrived by ship. He was so nervous and anxious the whole time, and it was all for nothing. “I’d love to take a shower..but.. uh..”

“I can take her while you shower.”

She was already there, taking Hope from his cramping arms and oh god, the relief was so good.

“No, I just.. I would need help, with the cast and all. Or if you have a bathtub then I only need help in getting in and out.” Dean couldn’t lie. He felt a little embarrassed that he needed help to do the simplest of things.

“Lieutenant, who would have thought that one day I’d have to help you wash yourself.” Jamie reached out a hand to help him up from the couch, and he stood on wobbly feet before he laced his arms around her waist for stability.

“Shut up.” He mumbled before kissing her.

Dean sat in a hot bath, and it did wonders to his aching bones. Jamie helped him in with stupid remarks, but little did she know that Dean missed it. He didn’t even know that he’d missed her wise assery, but there he was, smiling to himself. She went down to prepare Jameson’s bed while Hope was sleeping in her crib.

She came in again after about ten minutes. “You still okay in there?”

“I’m almost done and ready to be served.”

“Yeah. Ha-ha. You’re still not funny, you know that?”

“Shut up, Jameson liked my jokes.”

“That’s only because he’s scared of you.”

She came to kneel next to the tub before she leaned over to give him a kiss. Dean wanted to move but the leg with the cast was draped over the edge of the tub and if he moved, he would fall in and probably drown.

“How did you shower in England?” Bambi asked as she took the sponge that was swimming on the surface and began to rub along his arms.

“Nurses.”

She chuckled. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Not really. They were so annoyed with me, I could tell.”

“Why’s that? Did you asked them to clean your pipe while they bathed you?”

“Fuck you.” He pouted at her, and she giggled at that.

After the hot bath, he settled into Jamie’s narrow bed, laying on his side waiting for Jamie to shower and nurse Hope in the next room.

She came in, her bathrobe secured tight around her waist.

“She sleeping?” He asked groggily. It had been a long day.

“Shhh, don’t jinx it.” She said and climbed into bed with him her hair was still damp. It smelled like grass and meadows. Dean could imagine smelling this for the rest of his life. He’d rather have that than camouflage cream and nicotine.

She rested her back against the headboard as she began to read through the letters. Dean was drifting in and out of sleep while Jamie sat there and read. He was a little embarrassed that she read it in front of him, but that’s just how she was. Every now and then she searched for his hand and squeezed it tight while he could hear her mumble something like shit and fuck the whole time paired with occasional aww’s and ooh’s.

“I’m so sorry.” She said to him, and he squinted his eyes open.

“It’s alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But still.” She had tears in her eyes, he could see it in the dim light of her night stand lamp.

“Shhh. It’s alright. I’m here now.” He pulled her down, letting her curl up in his arms as his hand stroked over her damp hair.

“July 7th.” She said.

“Huh?”

“My birthday. July 7th.” She looked up at him. “When is yours?”

“January 24th.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to wish you a happy birthday.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Happy birthday,” She sat up a bit, smiling as she kissed him.

“Best birthday present ever.” He chuckled against the kiss.

“I have something for you.” Jamie got up and out of bed and walked to her desk drawer. She fished out something and walked back to him. “Hold out your arm.”

Dean did what she asked of him and let her put something around his wrist. It was a leather bracelet with a medallion hanging from it. Dean had to look close to see what was engraved on it. It was a simple “J”.

“Just so that if you ever get lost you remember who to come home to.” She laid herself back down and Dean marveled at the bracelet. “To me, or Jameson, whoever triggers your fancy, Lieutenant.” Jamie shrugged and Dean laughed out loud before he put his arm back around her and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you. Really best birthday present ever.”

She curled up perfectly against him, her head resting against the crook of his neck. Her spot. Dean could feel her breathing in the scent of his bare skin. It was too hot to wear a shirt. He missed that, sleeping in only his underwear. It had been almost 6 long years since he last did that.

“You smell good.” She said, breathing in and out and Dean chuckled at that comment. It was the first time they were together with no war between them.

His hand brushed the locks away from her face as he cups her cheek in his palm, pulling her in for a kiss. “I’m here like I promised I would be.”

She grinned into the kiss. “So, Benjamin, huh?”

“Shut up.” Dean mumbled against her soft lips.

“I never heard from Sam. You know,” she began to speak, her voice gentle. “I began to worry when I didn’t hear back from you. I thought something terrible must have happened and then when months went by without a letter, I thought that you moved on. Maybe found someone else. Some other cute private from your platoon.”

She made him chuckle a little.

“And then Tran wrote me, telling me that you, Harvelle and Barnes have been MIA. I never gave up hope. I always knew that you were still out there. Like I knew that Jameson was still alive. I never stopped loving you, or believing that one day you’d find your way back to me.”

“I gave up on you.” He said, feeling a pang of guilt of what he wrote in his last letter.

“Only when you thought that you wouldn’t get out of there. I get that. No hard feelings.” She smirked, kissing him.

“Oh, I’m feeling hard, alright.” Dean chuckled and then he rolled himself on top of her. His knees balanced his weight, and it was a little hard doing all this with a cast on his freaking shin, but he managed. He pressed his body down to her, careful not to crush her but enough to feel her close.

“Lieutenant! You packing? In my house?” She looked at him, gasping, her eyes wide as she felt him hardening on top of her. Her hands were resting on his chest, her fingers grazing his nipple, making him hitch his breathing.

“You like that, huh?” She had a cheeky grin on her lips before she pinched gently at his nipple again, making him moan out a little.

“Shit.” He chuckled. “I’m a little sensitive there, yeah.”

Dean moved lower, his deft fingers unknotting her bathrobe. He pulled it open and then he lowered himself, kissing a trail down her jaw, sucking at her throat until he sucked in her nipple. She still had the faint taste of milk around her areola, but her breasts felt soft. She’d been drained by Hope.

Dean moved lower, and he felt her hand fisting in his short hair. He’d cut them in England to the lengths he had when they first met. He thought that it was a visual aid so that she would remember him.

He went lower still, kissing a path down her stomach that was still well rounded from giving birth to his child. She was perfect.

Dean pulled down her underwear with his teeth and pulled it off her legs before he settled in between her luscious thighs. He looked up to see her watching him, propped on her elbows, her bottom lip between her teeth, her one hand stroking the top of his head.

“Fuck, Bambi, been waiting forever.” He growled, hovering above her pussy, his nose brushing against the faint curls of her pubic hair.

She gripped his scalp tighter. “Just be careful down there, alright. I’m still a little sensitive. Hope’s head was very big.”

Dean chuckled, blowing hot air out against her wet pussy. “Wonder where she got that from.”

He winked at her then before he took a swipe through the middle, parting her folds. The scent of her strong on his tongue, and he loved it. He drank from her like a starving man, exploring her hole with his tongue while she writhed and dug her nails into his scalp.

“Shit.” She was breathless. Dean sucked at her nub, humming against her pussy, making her shake apart under him.

He looked up at her as she came down from her high, brushing the excess wetness around his mouth away with the back of his hand before he smiled at her proudly.

“Come here.” She pulled him up by his hand and shoulder, locking her thighs around his waist.

Dean stripped off his underwear before he crawled back up and positioned himself above her, his dick leaving wet trails along her thighs.

His hard cock slipped right into her without much help, and Dean had to stall. The sensation was overwhelming.

“Shit, I won’t last.” He breathed out, hitting his forehead to hers, their nose bumping.

“Sir, I think you never do last with me.”

“Fuck you very much. Ha-ha. No seriously, I haven’t had sex since the last time we saw each other and fuck, Bambi, it’s better than I could have imagined. Better than I ever knew. Being inside you, I mean.” He started to thrust his hips slowly.

She threw her head back in a fit of laughter, and Dean thought that it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.

“Also, It’s weird.” He said.

“What’s weird?”

“Doing it with you, you know. Horizontal and all. On a freaking bed…”

“Sir? Shut up and fuck me.” Jamie said, pulling him down by the back of his neck.

Dean kissed her, his hips thrusting against her as he whispered “Yes ma’am” against her lips.

He moved his cock in and out, finding a rhythm despite having the cast. They soon found one, and she couldn’t resist pinching and rubbing over his nipple, which in turn almost made Dean lose it.

“Bambi, fuck, I’m..” He was holding himself back. He’s going to fucking explode from sheer pressure.

“Come in me.” She said and Dean’s eyes widened.

She giggled at that. “Dean, we already have a baby together. I’m still nursing. We’re good. And if there should be another baby, it’s not like it’s going to end us.”

He knew that she was right, and fuck, he never thought of having a baby before, but he wanted for Hope to have a sibling. Maybe even have a lot of little Jamie’s running around the house.

“Fuck,” She pulled him down to her, kissing him as he moved faster in and out of her tight and slick heat. “I love you.” He mumbled against her lips and his breathing hitched as he came with a heavy groan.

He breathed hard, kissing her cheeks and mouth before he moved off her after some time, settling himself next to her. He pulled her close and held her in his arms. Dean ran his fingers along her naked back, as she curled up against him.

“What now? Do you, I mean, do you want to move in?”

“Would you want that?” Dean kissed her nose, his heart pounded hard, and he told himself that he should get back into shape soon. And on the inside, he hoped that she’d say yes.

“If you don’t mind that Jameson is staying here, too?” She painted figures on his chest, giggling as she brushed against his nipple and watch him flinch.

“Aww, he thinks I’m handsome and funny, he can stay.”

“You are not funny.”

“What do you mean? I’m hilarious! Jameson laughed at all my jokes during dinner.”

She lifted her head to roll her eyes at him and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“I still need to go back to Lawrence and sort out the house. I need to get my belongings and Sam’s.”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to see Trenton’s mom tomorrow. I promised her to come by, and I can’t tell her no. So if you leave, you come back, alright?”

“You still seeing Trenton’s mom?”

“Yeah. She only lives two hours away and Trenton was her only son. She knows about me. I mean, I told her. I couldn’t lie to her. She approves. She was a great help when I was pregnant before Jameson was here. She’s like the mom I never had. I’m taking Hope to see her for the first time.”

“So, what do you say if I come with you? I mean, I’m not on a schedule and can go back to Lawrence later.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna meet Trenton’s mom too.”

“She would be delighted. I told her about you, too.”

“Does she think that I’m handsome?” Dean couldn’t help but grin.

“She thinks that you’re a dreamboat.” She giggled. “Wait, I don’t think you should come because then she’ll be all over you and who knows, you might stay with her?”

“Oh shut it, Bambi.” He said, pinching at her cheek. “Fucking love you, alright.” He kissed her again and shit, he really did love her.

He closed his eyes and she hummed a sweet melody while she stroked his face, making sure that he’s not an illusion. That Dean wasn’t a dream.

Before Dean drifted off to sleep, he smiled to himself, because that was everything he wanted. It was something he dreamt about all those months. It was something he fought for, even in captivity. Something everyone told him that he deserved. Something Sam would have wanted for him.

Dean woke up with a start, drops of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Shit, he’s late for sentry.

He looked around, his hand fumbled on the ground to find his helmet but instead of finding the metal of his helmet, Dean found the body of a sleeping Bambi next to him.

He chuckled to himself and let out a sigh of relief. He was in her home. She was his home. The war was over.

Dean slipped out of the bed. He needed to air his head, because there was no way he could go back to sleep. He put on a shirt and found his underwear on the floor. He tried to be quiet, as he limped to the door.

The house was quiet except for the snoring sounds of Jameson downstairs.

He walked to the room next door to Jamie’s and went in.

Hope was sleeping in her crib, and he just stood there, his hand gripping the crib to steady himself. His eyes fixed on the little bundle of joy. Dean was still mesmerized. He couldn’t believe that he created a little human. He smiled and watched her sleep.

Maybe it was the gust of wind outside the window, maybe it was his loud breathing, but Hope woke up, her eyes opened and closed. She started to get uneasy.

“Hey, hey, hey… shhhhh,” Dean placed his hand on her little body, “I’m here sweetheart. You go back to sleep, alright?”

Hope was still going strong, and Dean knew that it would only be a matter of time until she would start crying louder. He took her out of her crib, carefully holding his hand the right angle to support her head and then he embraced her close to his chest.

The nursery was not furnished except of the crib so he walked the couple of steps to the next wall and slid down. He sat there, Hope in his arms as he began to talk to her.

“Shhh.. I’m here.” He whispered again as he rocked her. “I wasn’t here before, but I’m here now.” He gently stroke her cheek and brushed against her lips with his finger. To his surprise, Hope began to suckle at his pinky and Dean couldn’t help but smile at that.

“It’s probably not as good as mommy’s breast, huh? But how about you and me, we both let her sleep a little?” He smiled. “You know, Daddy’s been to war. I didn’t know about you. If I would have known, I would have fought harder. I would have come home sooner.” Dean exhaled. “But Daddy’s here now. Alright? I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise.”

Dean took a deep breath.

“One day, I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He was fighting back tears. “Especially about your uncles who fought bravely. There’s your uncle Sam. He was my brother. Shit, Hope, he’s gone, and I miss him every day. Your mom also suffered losses. There’s uncle Jim and uncle Jack who didn’t make it. We’ll make sure that you know about them.” Dean blinked as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sure that they’re watching over you from above, sweetheart.”

“Hey.” Jamie was standing in the doorway, her bathrobe secured around her body, and she smiled at Dean with teary eyes.

He blushed a little and wanted to ask her how long she’d been standing there, but he didn’t. “Hi.”

Bambi came to sit next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

“I know. I’ve been having them too.”

Dean tilted his head a little, kissing her forehead.

“I like the idea of telling Hope about her uncles.” She whispered.

“We have to.”

Hope stopped suckling at Dean’s pinky and was about to start crying out. Jamie took her from him. “Feeding time.”

She unlaced her bathrobe and took out her left breast for Hope to take. Jamie made a face when Hope startle to suckle, and Dean frowned. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just, she can suck pretty hard and it always almost making me dizzy at the beginning.

Dean experienced it on his pinky how hard Hope can suck, and he felt for Jamie.

She started to chuckle then and Dean looked at her. “What?” He asked.

“You called me babe.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Well, you are a total babe, so.” Dean shrugged, his eyes trailing from her face down to her breast and Jamie changed breasts, docking Hope on to her other one. The nipple that was sucked on was all slick, big and raw. Dean shouldn’t be that turned on, he really shouldn’t.

She let out a soft chuckle again when she saw that he was trying to shift, concealing his slowly growing boner in his underwear. “Dean, does it turn you on seeing me nursing Hope?”

“How do you know?”

She laughed faintly, holding Hope up to burp. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Sometimes I’m scared that you do.” He said, kissing Hope, breathing in the scent of the small baby that made his heart full; and then he craned his neck to kiss Jamie, inhaling the scent of home.

..The End

(maybe)

#dear dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan ficiton #spn fic #spn au fic #nathalie writes

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maylovexhs · 6 years ago

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THE ASSISTANT - SUPERSTAR PART 2

Author’s Note: Y’all, part 1 blew up so THANK YOU! I might make this 5-7 parts as we go. But thank you! I love the feedback! As always, enjoy reading!

Ps. I am trying to fix the links and will make a Superstar masterlist soon. This is the link to the Superstar Masterlist because tumblr is being a dick (https://maylovexhs.tumblr.com/post/184493442839/superstar-masterlist).

When Y/N woke up the morning after, she woke up to cold sheets. Of course, like her other one night stands, they were always gone before she woke up. Usually Y/N felt a little hurt with them leaving but that morning, she didn’t. She didn’t because she knew Harry leaving was for the best. She knew Harry was too busy to stay in bed with her when he had a million things on his mind to do. Y/N took pleasure in that fact. He was leaving her because he needed to, not because he wanted to.

Other than that fact, the note on her bedside table from him made her feel better too. He left a note thanking her for “celebrating” with him. In the two weeks that had passed by of Y/N seeing him, she had come to realize she was thankful for him too. Just as always, each day was difficult for her. But Y/N had to admit these days were less of a pain to her. Mostly because she couldn’t stop thinking about her night she shared with Harry.

When she was driving to pick up a coffee for her boss, she would remember Harry and her kissing in the car when he drove her home. When she was doing paperwork at the firm and her back started to ache, she remembered how Harry’s hands gripped her back and how his hands would roam to her chest. What Y/N remembered the most from that night was Harry being in between her thighs. She remembered how her clit felt when Harry’s tongue was on it. She remember how breathless she was when he had his fingers in her. No matter how many times she tried to recreate that feeling of him between her thighs on her own, she couldn’t. Y/N had Harry stuck on her mind and he blocked out anything else she felt. She started to zone out here and there at work, wondering what Harry was doing now. One of those moments being now.

“Y/N” Jessie called on her.

“What?” Y/N said, snapping out of the clouds and turning to Jessie.

Jessie rolled her eyes at her.

“Lucy called me saying she’s sick” Jessie told Y/N. “She asked if you can fill out the paper work and give it-“

“I got it” Y/N said, standing up from her chair. “I’ll fill it out and give it to him”

“Thanks” Jessie said.

Y/N nodded to her before leaving to get a snack which she desperately needed. It may have been the morning still but she knew there was a high chance she would be called to do something else during the day and needed some energy to prepare herself for it. As Y/N waited at the vending machines for co-worker to pick something, she noticed she her nipples were sensitive. Of course, she knew it was a sign that her time of the month was arriving soon but Y/N found it agonizing. All she wanted was them to stop hurting. She wanted to touch them but she couldn’t here. Again, she was reminded of Harry and how he had made her moan while touching them. Y/N shook her head at her own thoughts. She needed to stop thinking about Harry, specifically their night together. For once in her life, she was pleased to file some paperwork. It would distract her, at least for today.

Y/N’s snack proved to help her. It was an hour after lunch that she had finished filing all her papers. Particularly, Lucy’s thirty pages that needed to be carefully overlooked and filed. Y/N took pride in her time management skills. She knew her coworker herself couldn’t have finished those papers in that amount of time.

In fact, Y/N wondered if her boss would be impressed by how fast she finished it.

Y/N took the papers from her desk and walked to her boss’ office. She knocked on his door and she heard him say enter. When she did go in, she wished her boss would have turned her away.

Y/N’s boss was Jeffery Azoff and he was having lunch with his friend. The same friend who spent the night at Y/N’s apartment. Him. Harry.

Y/N became speechless at the sight of him. She wondered if she was dreaming. It felt like she was. Harry’s hair was cut short. The last time she saw him it was long. Despite feeling it was a dream, it wasn’t. If it was, her boss would be the last person she expected to be in it. As for Harry, he was somewhat surprised to see Y/N walk into the room. He didn’t expect her to work here, especially for his best friend. He was still pleased to see her as he had to admit too that he missed her.

“Yeah Y/N?” Jeffery asked her.

Y/N gulped, trying to regain control of herself.

“Umm . .Lucy’s out and she asked me to file and give these papers to you” Y/N said, feeling a bit out of breath.

Harry smirked at her, remembering she had the same look on her face now as she did when Harry was between her thighs. She looked beautiful in and out of bed anyways, Harry thought.

“Oh, great” Jeff said. “You can leave it on my desk”

Jeff turned to Harry, picking up where they were last talking about.

“H, I really think you could but I don’t see that happening in the timeframe” Jeff said.

Y/N nodded, walking over to Jeff’s desk. Harry took a quick glance at Y/N when she placed the papers on the desk. Harry pretended to listen to Jeff as he watched Y/N leave the room. Harry turned to Jeff, wanting to change the conversation to a new topic. He wanted to ask Jeff about Y/N.

Y/N rushed to the bathroom as soon as she walked out the office. She went into an empty stall and locked it. She pulled down her skirt and panties, noticing she was dripping.

“Fuck me” Y/N cursed at herself, pulling her clothes up again.

She opened the stall and went to the sink to watch her hands that had become sweaty at the sight of Harry. Y/N had no idea what to do. Harry knew where she worked. Harry knew her boss as a friend. More importantly, Harry knew what she looked like naked. Y/N shook her head and hands, imagining Harry telling her boss that he slept with her. She took some paper towels to dry her hands before leaving the restroom. She returned back to her desk, laying back in her chair. She sighed.

Y/N knew she could do nothing to reverse the past, but she felt angry at herself. She could have not slept with Harry. She could have not talked to him at the bar and left after her first shot of whiskey. But, no she listened to her guts and stayed at the bar because she thought Harry was a nice guy. Y/N should have known that all guys are trouble, even if they are nice at first. Y/N buried her head in her hands.

“I’m fucked” Y/N said in a low voice in her palms. “Completely fucked”

Y/N waited to leave work until everyone else did. Y/N thought if she saw Jeff leaving before her that would mean Harry left too. Y/N didn’t want to risk the chance of her leaving work and bumping into Harry and having to explain to her boss how she knew Harry. She couldn’t let that happen after she almost embarrassed herself in front of Jeff while only handing him papers. Y/N wasn’t going to take any chances.

After waiting twenty minutes, Y/N got up from her desk and got dressed to leave. She went to the elevator and pressed the down button. She was on the third floor and didn’t really feel like walking down the stairs when she felt weak in the knees from seeing Harry today. Besides, Y/N thought the elevator would decrease the likelihood of running into Harry. No one wants to wait to take the elevator when they are rushing to get home. The stairs would be faster than the elevator. Y/N thought her logic was all sound but when the elevators’ doors opened, Y/N felt she had become the most stupid person on the planet.

Right in front of her was him. Harry.

Him, Y/N thought while crossing her arms. Of course it had to be him. I should have expected him leaving late to avoid attention.

A small smirk grew on Harry’s lips when he saw her. He was thinking about her ever since lunch and now, she stood in front of him, coincidence or not.

Y/N walked into the elevator, thinking she would look like a coward if she walked away after Harry seeing her. Harry may have made her panties wet a little but she wasn’t going to let him think he had the smallest effect on her. Y/N faced away from Harry, trying to ignore him. Harry looked her down and up, having a bigger smirk on his lips before.

How she has changed, Harry thought. This is a whole new side to her than what I’ve seen of her in bed.

“Didn’t expect you to work for my friend” Harry said, trying to make conversation with her. “Is Jeff really that much of a dickhead to you?”

Y/N looked to Harry.

“Sometimes” She answered. “And I told you I work as an assistant”

Y/N looked away from Harry and to the floor number the elevator was on. It was two.

“You didn’t tell me where though” Harry said.

“Because I didn’t want to” Y/N said, without turning to him. “Didn’t want a stranger to know where I worked. . . And I knew we would only have a one night stand”

Harry chuckled. It was her honesty that made him fond of her.

Harry moved closer to her. He stood behind her, almost standing over her. He was certain she could feel his breath on her skin and Y/N did. She did feel tensed that he was shadowing over her. But when she felt Harry’s fingers trace up the inside of her thigh, that’s when Y/N really lost it.

Y/N turned around to him.

“You may know where I work but that doesn’t mean I want to have sex again” Y/N said. “So forget it. We’re strangers”

The elevator doors opened and Y/N was the first to walk out. Harry stood behind for a moment, thinking of what Y/N had just said.

She wanted them to be strangers again. But Harry knew they couldn’t be. They saw each other naked, for fuck’s sake. Harry wasn’t going to let Y/N treat him like a stranger. He would let her treat her like anybody else but not a stranger and he had a way in changing that.

#hs fanfic #superstar mini series #hs au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #hs one shot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #hs imagine #hs imagines

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wildcard47 · 6 years ago

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green pastures (pg); fitzier

prompt: James proposes to Francis; Francis misunderstands and thinks he’s being officially asked to marry James to someone else a la that scene in The Vicar of Dibley.

I promised @full-of-terrors this adorable little prompt fill ages ago and finally get to post it! Hope you enjoy!

When the knock sounded at his front door just after three bells, Francis could find no reason to avoid answering it, even if he had meant to go to bed within the next few minutes.

He’d been so damn dispirited since James’s stupid bloody boyfriend came into town. Not that he would have admitted this to another soul.

Not as if Le Vesconte was actually James’s boyfriend, either. By all accounts they were only mates; Henry never seemed like the type to go bi all of the sudden, given how much harping on he’d done about his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

But James did keep mentioning all these hot bumbly dates he’d had while he was down in London – whatever that meant – and since Francis did not drink anymore, the only way anyone could find out he was depressed about this turn in events was if they came to his living room and stopped him eating bagfuls of crisps while watching a bunch of old Frasier episodes.

What did it matter if his ex-boyfriend was going on other dates? They’d only gone out six and a half times, more than three years ago. And now he’d moved back to town all of the sudden. The man was free to go anywhere he liked.

Expecting it was Jane Franklin come to complain about Neptune, Francis was startled to see James standing there when he opened the door.

“Hi.”

James smiled at him; it looked strained and unnatural. “Hello.”

“So, er.” Francis’s mind was full of questions it was probably rude to voice, especially to someone you’d been avoiding for nearly a week. “How – how are things?”

“Actually,” James did not even hang up his coat, just turned by the rack, one hand now tracing over the spine of a closed umbrella. “Can I – I’ve something important to ask you, if you don’t mind. Well. Obviously I can ask you questions without you minding them, only this pertains to the type of question rather than the principle of the thing.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Not here to give a lecture on forms of the interrogative.”

“Er. Yeah, obviously. You can talk to me about whatever you like.” Francis narrowed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

You seem…. anxious, he wanted to point out.

“Me? Fine. A bit jumpy, you know, but had a lot of caffeine today, so that’s understandable. Four flat whites. Can you believe – sorry. I’m rambling now. Suppose I may as well ask this right out. Francis, have you ever thought about, er, marrying anyone?”

“Oh.” Francis could not have said why this question left him so disappointed. He didn’t think topics as boring as Naval protocol would bring James to his front door at eleven thirty at night. “Well, yeah. I mean, strictly hypothetical, mind. Not had reason to yet.”

Most of the people he’d served with so far were already married or far too young to try. And barring that, none of them had wanted to be married on the ship. Or by Francis.

“Yes. Not as if you’re imagining it daily. You’ve always been a practical sort. Aren’t given to flights of fancy.”

“No,” agreed Francis.

“No.” James swallowed hard, bit his lip. “Anyway, you’ll remember from – I mean, the conversations we had – that I have always admired marriage. As an institution. Even before I actually aspired to be part of it. You know? It’s a, ah, very good thing to my mind. Or it should be, given the many benefits.”

“Time can change even the most stubborn man, I suppose.” Francis tried to smile. “So, you’re, ah, ready to take the plunge at last, hm?”

“Yeah. Yes.” James seemed to steel himself. “I mean. Not just for the sake of it. I want to. Have wanted to, really. For a long time.”

“Makes sense,” said Francis, in an attempt at being neutral.

“Does to me, as well.” That brief, strained smile was back.

“Well, that’s – great news.”

He had not decided what the rest of his sentence would be, but it apparently didn’t matter, because James blurted out something very loudly.

“Francis, would you – do me the honor of marrying me?”

Francis’s heart sped up, and his stomach twisted with distress, but he tried not to showcase any of these feelings to James. Can’t hurt him.

“You… want me to marry you?”

Christ, he could picture it now: James blindingly handsome in his dress blues, in the local church or outside in the park or even aboard Battalion, standing hand-in-hand on the quarterdeck with some stupid blonde blockhead while Francis stood between them, a borrowed, well-worn Bible in his hands, thumbing through the chaplain’s notes on love and honour and duty and wanting to pitch himself off the crow’s nest instead.

“Can’t imagine asking anyone else,” said James, voice hitching slightly.

Oh. Damn it.

“Well, ah – I don’t mean to make you wait for an answer, obviously, it’s just – I’m a bit – surprised, is all. No one’s ever – asked me before.”

“Really?”

Why was James looking at him like that, as if he were afraid taking his eyes off of Francis for even a second meant he might disappear? The man seemed to be one sentence away from a total nervous breakdown.

“And it’s been a long time since we’ve. Er. I mean, of course it would be – wonderful – ”

“Yeah.”

“Let me just have a look at my diary,” Francis said, by way of stalling, hoping against hope that James had his heart set on a specific date and time and that he was going to be out of the country on that blessed morning. Or perhaps dead. Dying would get you out of marrying your ex-boyfriend to his new boyfriend, wouldn’t it? “Knowing you, you’ve already got your heart set on a specific month.”

“God, no,” answered James in a rush. “Honestly, Francis, if it helps, you can pick any day of the year you damn well please.”

“Right.” Francis turned another page, then another, with no clue as to what he was bloody reading. “Well. Er. That’s….a lot to choose from. Plenty of options.”

He meant to say something about how most people liked summer weddings, or that all the good reception places would be booked years in advance so James shouldn’t get his heart set on having it done anytime soon – the sort of vapid, oddly-prophetic comments Sophia used to say to him all the time when she was turning him down. Course, Francis was actually asking her to be his wife, then, so it was different.

When James spoke again, after a long, agonizing silence, it was in the quietest voice Francis had ever heard. As if he might weep.

“You don’t want to do it, do you?”

“What?” At James’s raised eyebrow, Francis deflated. “James, it isn’t – obviously, I don’t want to rush into an answer if it’s the wrong one. You – well, you’re important to me.”

“I know that.”

“And I’m really touched that you’d ask me after all this time. Truly I am. But I – should probably think about it, before I answer one way or the other.”

James’s expression slammed closed, then, almost as suddenly as it used to whenever Admiral Franklin walked aboard.

“Don’t tiptoe around it. Not with me.” He cleared his throat, gave Francis a jerky nod. “It – if that’s what you feel, then your answer’s already no. Which is all right. Erm. Silly of me to have thought…”

It was as if Francis were reliving the day they broke up, three years before; he could not understand why saying I’ll think about it would provoke such a fierce reaction.

“I should go,” murmured James.

Oh, god, why was he going so soon? Was he angry? James couldn’t be angry when the words he was saying were so kind and understanding.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do. I really do.”

They had reached the door; James opened it, clearly ready to step out without another word. He’d leave forever and it would be all Francis’s fault. Fucking hell, why could he not agree to put his own bloody pride aside when it came right down to it?

“Stop – bloody walking, damn it!” Francis squeezed his eyes closed, summoned every last ounce of strength. “I’ll do it, all right? James, I’ll – if you want me to perform a ceremony, I can do. For you. I – owe you that much. I want you to have that.”

A terrible silence settled over the room as James turned away from the open door.

“Perform the ceremony?”

“Yeah.” Francis opened his eyes, tried to tamp down the avalanche of curse words that were building in the back of his mind. He would not stutter. He would not weep. “Ship’s captain, powers that be, whatever. I’ll do it, you’ll be married, and then you’ll – well. Be happy.”

Without me.

“Francis, no.” James opened and closed his mouth, threaded the distance between them before taking Francis’s hand in both of his. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant at all. I – good god, man. Who the bloody hell else am I in love with? I’m saying I want to marry you. I’m asking for your hand, Francis.”

“Mine,” was all Francis whispered.

James peered closely at his baffled expression. “I – you know how I feel about you. Don’t you?”

Francis was now so shocked he couldn’t speak.

“Why d’you think I’d come here in the middle of the night and ramble on about marriage if I didn’t want to propose? For Christ’s sake, I’ve not stopped thinking about us for three years. Every day I wanted to call you. Write to you. Just – see you getting coffee on the way to work. And then we end up living in the same town again, going to all the same events, and it – I mean, you’ve no idea how terrified I was, to think you’d moved on with your life. And now….Francis, I honestly can’t imagine being anywhere without you at my side. I want to marry you. I want us to get – old and fat and weird together. Think we’d be rather good at that last bit, actually.”

“So you,” Francis could hardly draw air into his lungs. “You mean you’re – ”

“Marry me, Francis.” James squeezed his fingers, encouraging. “Please.”

Unable to say anything else, Francis sat right down on the carpet, because his knees would no longer hold him up, and covered his mouth with a shaking hand to suppress the high-pitched squeak trying to claw its way from his throat.

“I’m all right,” he kept whispering, although he was not: he was swiping big fat tears from his face with the back of one hand, and James was hovering at his side, still babbling away although Francis couldn’t hear any of the words; meanwhile, Neptune was barking like a bloody demon dog, rushing in and out of the open door in obvious confusion, wagging his tail and licking Francis’s salt-damp fingers every so often, and Jesus bloody Christ.

James wanted to marry him.

“Francis.”

Glancing up with a very unromantic snort, trying to swallow the knot of tears in his throat, Francis met James’s concerned gaze and finally – finally – managed to say something.

“Okay.”

James’s face brightened. His grip on Francis’s shoulders tightened. “Oh my god. Really?”

“Yeah.” Francis was grinning now. “I’ll marry you, James.”

Squealing in delight, now peppering Francis’s face with kisses and hugging him tightly, James eventually pulled away and let out a victorious howl of a cheer. Hearing this, Neptune decided to join in, baying joyously at the open front door before trotting forward to see what was going on on the front stoop.

James had already jumped to his feet to join him, calling out to the entire neighborhood with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Francis is gonna marry me!”

“Jesus Christ. I have neighbors!”

“Francis is gonna marry m – oh, Neptune, no!” A black blur darted out of the doorway, running pell mell toward the street. Cursing, James took off after him, now sounding much less cheerful. “Come back here this instant – no! Right – now!”

Judging by how fast James was now sprinting down the driveway and toward the curb, as well as the yowling, Neptune was probably after Mrs. Franklin’s tomcat again.

Laughing hysterically as James tried and failed to capture a boisterous Newfie with nothing more than his bare hands, Francis watched with faint pride as his fiancé – a romantic, dashing hero of a man – stumbled and fell into the side of next door’s recycling bin, knocking it backwards onto the lawn. A delighted Neptune stopped his mischief to come back and run circles around James and all the now-visible rubbish, occasionally stopping to look back at Francis and bark loudly.

“Well, he’s killed me,” James called theatrically from his prone position, as a very happy dog decided the best thing to do was sit in James’s lap. With a huff, Neptune sat down, then flopped sideways, draping his chest directly over James’s ribs. Four enormous paws splayed out around James’s middle. James groaned and winced as he absorbed the full weight of this gift. “I might die before we get to celebrate.”

“Yeah, you’re stuck now,” offered Francis as he walked closer. On an impulse, he tossed the jacket in his hand onto the damp ground and lay down next to them.

“Nnngh,” whined James, but he was grinning.

Francis leaned over, pressed a kiss to James’ forehead. “See? Completely stuck.”

#prompt fill #full-of-terrors #fitzier #francis crozier/james fitzjames #this is the small-town vicar of dibley AU of our dreams

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