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thatforgottenbasilisk · 9 months ago

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Jonathan Sims Is Dead In The End

Chapter 9: Neural Pruning (AO3) (My Fic Masterpost)

Originally Posted on 4/18/2024

Rating: M

Summary:

neural pruning is when neurons die, but like, intentionally.

no, i do not mean intentionally as in "i intentionally killed my brain cells by consuming substances such as alcohol." i mean it in a brain development context- when ur a little baby child, you have a shitton of neurons. you still have a shitton of neurons btw but you had a Bigger shitton when you were a baby (technically speaking you had the Biggest shitton before you were born due to prenatal brain development and apoptosis but whatever it doesnt matter)

so. lots of baby neurons doing their baby neuron thing. except this costs a lot of energy! so then you hit puberty and your brain's like "okay this is fucking untenable like look at how much energy we're wasting here" and cuts certain connections by getting rid of some neurons that weren't really getting used but WERE using energy. so then the remaining neurons shuffle around to increase efficiency in communication bc theyre closer together now

so. you finish puberty and you look back to when you were a child and youre like "man i was dumb." but you werent dumb. you had neural connections you didnt use then (and dont use now) that made things slower and less efficient in terms of the way you think now

Sasha takes his hand.

He stands up as he pulls her upright, moving just enough to free her a little at a time, probably to keep her aware of the fact that she's still at his mercy. They're still in Tim's apartment, and if anything happens, he can claim self-defense, legally speaking- of course, that's assuming that she'll try anything. She won't even breathe wrong right now, not with how tense this all is, not with how scared Tim clearly is, no matter how well he hides it. She knows him better than almost anyone, she can tell when he's afraid.

She loved him, once, in a way that she doesn't think most people would call love, in that classical fairytale way. Still does, sort of. She trusts him, less than she did before, but she still cares about him. He wanted her in that way, he once liked her in that way, and Sasha had tried to let him down easy instead of telling him she'd never reciprocate, but it turns out she failed in that too. She thinks that if she ever felt what everyone else calls "love," the real storybook romance stuff, she would feel it for Tim; but she doesn't, and she hasn't, and she doesn't think she ever will.

She thinks that might be part of the reason why she doesn't feel betrayed the moment he puts the knife against her wrist. It's lighter this time, there's less pressure on it, but the threat to her life is still very much present.

"I don't know what your game is. I don't know what the hell you think you're trying to pull, but if I find out you're exactly what I thought you were? I'll make your death as long and painful as I possibly can." Tim stares her dead in the eye, and says every single word with cold intent. There's nothing warm left in his voice, nothing of the man in the pub a few hours ago, only a man who is completely and totally willing to get blood on his hands.

Again, she nearly adds to that, but the first time doesn't count. It was in the future, after all, and Tim hasn't even met his murder victim yet. It's not right to hold it against him now, no matter how much she reflexively brings it up in the back of her mind.

Besides, he's justified- more so than he was the last time, anyway. He's justified in his fear and suspicion, all he knows about any of the real kinds of monsters is that there are things that pretend to be people but just a little off, and all of a sudden she shows up in the Archives and she's got different colored eyes? She's surprised he hasn't outright killed her yet. He's probably more impulsive with people he doesn't know as well.

"I'm not. I'm still- I'm still me, I promise. I promise." Her voice is shakier than she wants it to be, too quiet for her liking, but she doesn't look away from Tim's gaze, just holds the same stare as he is. She doesn't say that she's still human; in a technical sense, she's closer to human than a mannequin, which is what he's looking for, but she doesn't think she can call herself fully human anymore. She's done things that no human should do, a hundred thousand times over, for better or for worse, and now she can't rightfully consider herself one of them. A reflection of a refraction, maybe. A copy of a copy of herself as she should have been.

"Prove it." Tim doesn't hesitate to dismiss her word. Why shouldn't he? Why should he trust promises that are, as far as he knows, empty? His voice is quieter, but no less harsh than it was a moment ago. She doesn't know why it hurts more than the knife he's still holding to her wrist- maybe because the knife isn't cutting her, barely even touching her, and his grip on her hand is just firm, not overly tight.

The nerves around the cut on her throat send pain signals to her brain. She ignores them. The stinging isn't anything compared to the things that aren't scars anymore.

How can she prove it, though? How can she prove that she's still herself, beyond what she's already said? There's nothing she can think of as an argument. There's no concrete, golden proof that she can pull out, nothing that something else couldn't guess if it took her over. All there is is to prove that she's from the future, and that's easy and impossible at the same time. What would she tell him? Everything?

If only. No, she's alluded to future events enough that he knows what her story is. He knows she's going to claim she's from the future, and it's up to her to sell him on the truth.

"I'm from about three years in the future. Things... things have changed. A lot. My eyes are the least of it, if only you'd seen all the scars we both picked up- but that's beside the point, isn't it?" She waits for half a moment, waiting for an answer that she knows won't come, and then continues. "There's a Statement in one of the boxes near Jon's desk. It's by a man called Carlos Vittery, he was haunted by some sort of ghost spider. He's dead, so you can break and enter as you please, and in his old basement is where you'll find Jane Prentiss. You know who she is by now, right?" She shifts her tone easily to business. It's easy to Know where Vittery's Statement is, easier still to remember that as the place that Prentiss was hiding out before Martin found her.

"Yeah. Everyone does. You honestly expect me to believe all that?" He acts like he's caught her in a lie, but he doesn't so much as move anything other than his mouth. That's not enough to say he believes her, of course, but it is enough to say that he hasn't decided that she's lying.

"I'm not stopping you from going. What, do you think I'm secretly in contact with her, and friendly enough to give her a location that would be safe to hide out from police and everyone? We can go to the Institute right now and find the address if you'd like." She doesn't keep being all cooperative without at least a little bit of attitude. Does he really believe she can just manipulate things like that? He doesn't, of course not, not unless he's deluding himself.

He hesitates. He keeps hesitating, for longer than she thinks he should, before finally taking the knife away from her wrist and helping her actually stand. The knife doesn't leave his hand- he doesn't trust her, not yet, which is fine because she doesn't quite trust him either, not so much as to believe he wouldn't kill her under the right circumstances- and he backs away by a single step.

"We're leaving in the morning." He says, and she knows he's calling her bluff. She would do the same thing in his shoes, really, so she shouldn't feel it get under her skin the slightest little bit.

"Can I go home, or am I sleeping over?" She doesn't ask if she's being held captive; there are enough clothes of hers over here anyway, from various nights in his bed- without a hookup- that it would almost be like being held prisoner in her own home. She's not even going to word it like that if she can help it.

"The couch is comfortable enough." Tim says, and she really shouldn't have thought it would be any different.

#my writing #tma #tma fic #Jonathan Sims Is Dead In The End #Jonathan Sims Is Dead In The End fic

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years ago

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18. Sodapop - A Love All Too Real

*Warning - Smut; spanking, biting, dirty talk, hair pulling, car sex*

“My baby did so well.”

“Cum one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

*Sodapop’s p.o.v*

Mickey Mouse was playing loudly throughout the living room, trying to muffle the sounds of the rain beating against the roof. It worked a little, distracting all of us from the brewing storm outside. Two-Bit was sitting next between Steve and I, completely mesmerized by his favorite showing playing on the screen. It wasn’t getting late but most of us were ready to pass out in the spots we sat in; me including, my heavy eyelids sinking each time I blinked. However, we were shaken away when there was a rapid banging noise on the door. I pushed myself up off the cushion and peered towards the closed door like all the others, wondering who could possibly be standing outside in this weather. The knocking came again, except this time with a voice behind it.

“Seriously guys! Who else would be knocking at your damn door right now?!”

It was Anni.

Ponyboy hopped off the floor, leaving Johnny sitting there alone, and opened the front door quickly. Anni was standing there, her hand over her left eye, soaking wet from the rain fall. She glared at him.

“Took you long enough,” she grumbled.

“Sorry Anni,” he said, “we expected you to be at home.”

“I was at home. I got kicked out.”

When she stepped into the house, the multiple bruises on her skin, fresh blood was collected on her skin and clothes, and when she removed her hand from her eye you could see how bad it really was. Her eye was black and purple, and I could see that some of the blood vessels in her eye were popped due to the red color collecting in her eye.

“Holy shit,” Two-Bit muttered, his eyes staying off the television now.

No one cared about Mickey Mouse playing anymore, or how tired they were. We only cared about Anni.

She placed her bag down by the door as she passed Ponyboy, who was still in shock that he couldn’t even move to close the door. Steve did it for him, not wanting rain to get inside the house or on him.

“Anni,” Darry said, standing in front of her, “this is the third time this week.”

She looked at all of us before turning back to Darry, the unfazed look on her face never wavering, as she shrugged.

“So?” She muttered.

“So,” he continued, “you can’t keep livin’ like this.”

Anni waved her hand in front of her, rather annoyed that she had to hear this again. Anytime she came over covered in bruises, Darry or one of us would tell her she couldn’t live with her dad again. It was always met with the same unfazed look on her face along with a light shrug of the shoulders. Anni crossed her arm over her chest; I noticed that she didn’t even wince. She was so use to the constant abuse and beatings that they didn’t even hurt her physically anymore.

“Why not?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Anni, you do realize that your eyeball is red right? Like the blood vessels in your eye have busted?” Dally inquired, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Well yeah, I’m going to clean myself up and wait for it to heal like always.”

“But what we’re sayin’,” I said, standing from my spot, “you don’t deserve to be beaten every time you go home. You deserved to be cared for and go to sleep safely.”

Once more, I noticed that the unfazed look in her eyes never wavered. She was so numbed to the abuse it didn’t seem wrong anymore. Instead, she turned away from all of us, facing the open bathroom ready to head inside so she could avoid the problem.

“Doesn’t matter to me. Lots of things shouldn’t happen but they do. People take what they want from me whenever they please; the want sex, they don’t have to ask they just take, if every night someone wants to beat the hell out of me so that they feel better then so be it. I’m nothing more than a toy; a disposable piece of shit that people tend to keep around until they’re done using me.”

With those final words, she walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. My heart broke into hundreds of pieces after hearing her say those words. Anni wasn’t a bad person, she just never knew what it felt like to be loved and cherished. All I wanted to do was love and cherish her. To lay beside her at night and hold her. To pepper her face with dozens of kisses while caressing her small form. To just show her what it felt to be cared about instead of used. But she was so brainwashed into thinking she didn’t matter, that she was nothing more than a throwaway doll, that she couldn’t see it.

Ponyboy wrapped his arms around him.

“We can’t keep lettin’ her live there, Darry,” he said.

“I know that, Pony, but unless she wants to leave there isn’t anythin’ we can do,” Darry said, “I’m goin’ to go make her somethin’ to eat.”

That was a normal routine when Anni came over all beaten up. She normally wouldn’t have eaten for two days before the beating. I had asked her why she didn’t eat two days in advance and she told me that it helped her not throw up when her dad kicked her in the stomach. Once more breaking my heart as I heard her tell me that she could anticipate when the beating was coming and how to make it hurt less.

I followed Darry into the kitchen, Steve and Ponyboy trailing behind me. He was already getting all of the sandwich stuff out, dinner having been served a while ago and with all of us here, there were no leftovers. I grabbed the mustard off the table and watched Pony take out some bread before spreading the yellow condiment on her sandwich. We worked in silence, not sure what we could say to one another. Darry was right; unless Anni wanted to leave her parents, to have a better life, there wasn’t much we could do.

As soon as we finished making her sandwich, and Steve added half a pickle to the plate, Anni came walking in while drying her hair with the towel. She was wrapped in nothing but a towel. In the kitchen light I could see her bruises more prominent.

“Soda, can I borrow some clothes?” She inquired.

“Sure thing, doll,” I said, rinsing my hands off and following her to my room.

I opened the drawer and took out a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wife beater that revealed a lot on the side. It was something I wore around the house when it was hot.

“You know, Pony has clothes that might fit you better,” I joked.

“Yeah, probably,” she laughed, “but they aren’t as comfortable as yours.”

I handed the clothes to her, looking at her beaten up face. I frowned.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered.

“No more than it normally does,” she shrugged, “can you close the door on your way out? Please, and thank you.”

Nodding my head, I left the room and closed the door behind me. Anni came out five minutes after wearing the sweats and wife beater I’d given her. It was much bigger on her than I’d expected, revealing all of her sides and if she moved her arms a certain way you could see the side of her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra, not that she needed one because her breasts were small and perky.

A lump formed in my throat as I watched her. I had to force myself to look away. She plopped down on the recliner, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair as Darry walked in with her sandwich. He handed it to her and smiled.

“Eat up, kid,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling back.

Soon the rain went away; Darry had gone to sleep an hour ago, having to get up for work in the morning. Pony had fallen asleep on the floor beside Johnny, Dally left with Two-Bit to a party that was close by, and Steve was sprawled out beside me completely knocked out. His mouth was partially opened which made me laugh a little.

Anni was still awake. She walked over to me, her arms folded over her chest.

“Want to come outside with me?” She asked, “I need to smoke.”

“Sure, come on,” I said, standing up carefully not to wake Steve or the others.

I closed the door behind us and she shivered. The rain had made the air incredibly cold, and she was hardly wearing anything. Her pale skin glowed in the darkness, and in the small, illuminating porch light, I noticed that her nipples were erected.

“Come on,” I said, leading her to Darry’s truck.

We climbed into the backseat. I reached to the front and grabbed the spare keys underneath the visors. I turned the truck on and let the heater kick in so we could warm up. Anni was digging through her bag, removing a lighter and a container out. I watched her open the container and take out a joint. Anni didn’t smoke cigarettes, couldn’t stand the taste, but she did smoke weed and I was pretty sure it was because it numbed her from everything. I watched her light her joint and hit it, a cloud of smoke releasing from her perfect, soft, pink lips. The smell of weed collecting in the car and I knew I was going to have to air it out before we went in. Darry had the nose of a hound.

She looked over at me and held out the joint, “want some?”

“No thanks, doll,” I smiled.

Shrugging her shoulders, she continued to smoke the joint. Her unwounded eye turned hazy and became a bit red. With each puff, she was getting higher and higher; this obviously not being the first time she smoked tonight. She slouched down in her seat, the shirt riding up a little bit. I guess I’d been staring too long because she faced me and raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” She questioned.

“Just takin’ in all of your wounds,” I whispered, half lying.

She let her eyes land on the bruises decorating her arm before dropping it and taking another hit of her joint.

“You know, I’m use to it but they still hurt like hell.”

“You shouldn’t be use to it,” I muttered, “I hate seein’ you like this, Anni.”

Anni put out her smoke, putting it back in her purse and folding her arms, “why?”

“Because I care about you. Every time I see you all bruised up like this, it pisses me off. I swear if I ever see your dad-”

“You’ll do nothing.”

Our eyes met; hers cold, and distant, mine shocked, and sad.

“If you do something it’ll only make it worse. I’ll just get beaten ten times worse than the last. He’ll do everything in his power to prove he’s got total control over me, and he’s right.”

I reached over and touched her shoulder. She flinched a bit but I didn’t pull away; her skin was cool to the touch, the heater barely keeping her warm. Anni sighed.

“It’s just how it is, Soda. Leave it be.”

“How can I do that?” I asked, “you don’t deserve it.”

“Because I’m not important, Soda!” She snapped, “if I left today, all of you would stop thinking about me! If I died tomorrow, you’d forget me as soon as you saw the next girl walk by! I’m replaceable! A nobody! Unloved!”

“You aren’t unloved!” I yelled back, “and maybe to your shitty dad you're replaceable, but to me you’re irreplaceable! You’re so fucked up in the head, you don’t even know what love is because they’ve got you all messed up.”

“So?! What do you want me to do about it!”

“Let me show you what it’s like to be loved, Anni.”

She started nibbling on her lip as I got closer to her. She didn’t move away from me though, as I leaned in closer and closer. The air between us almost felt thin, I could hardly breathe. I could see her chest moving up and down fast. Was she nervous? Scared? I couldn’t tell. My forehead pressed against hers.

“I’ll stop if you want,” I whispered, “I’d never do somethin’ to you that you aren’t comfortable with.”

It took her a moment to answer and when she was capable of doing so, it came out as more of a hushed whisper.

“I’m fine,” her voice croaked, “you can continue.”

She was definitely nervous. My words, along with my actions, had her flustered and confused.

Nodding my head, I pressed my lips against hers. Her lips were just as soft as I’d imagined them to be. When I pulled away, it was only for a second, going back into and kissing her deeply once again, this time more passionately. I softly pushed her back, keeping my lips on hers, and crawled between her legs. Her hands reached up and wrapped around my neck, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair. A soft groan left my lips as I felt her fingers tug gently.

I pulled away from her, a small amount of saliva pulling from our lips. Her eyes were hazy with lust and confusion.

“I’ve got you, doll,” I whispered, “I promise.”

She nodded her head. Leaning back down, I attached my lips to her neck and started leaving wet, open mouthed kisses along the nape. Softly sucking and nibbling on her flesh, I felt my cock harden at the sound of her breathy moans. A sound that I wanted to be familiar with forever. I bit down on her neck and she gasped, jolting forward, her chest pressing against mine. Her nipples were still hard. I swirled my tongue around the spot I bit down on before biting down on a different spot, repeating the process.

“Soda,” she whimpered.

It was the first time I’ve heard her sound so vulnerable.

“That’s a good girl,” I praised, returning my attention to her face.

The black eye didn’t bother me, neither did the blood in her eye. She was as beautiful as she always was.

I grabbed the rim of my shirt and pulled it off, revealing my tanned chest. Her eyes lingered a little lower, her teeth biting her bottom lip while she scanned over my body. I chuckled then reached for her shirt. She lifted her arms letting me pull the shirt over her head, revealing her exposed, bruised flesh. I groaned at the mere sight of her breasts. They were perfect; like beautiful clouds. I barely licked one of the hardened nipples and her back arched, eyes rolling to the back of her head. I captured her lips with mine once again, this time kissing her hungrily.

I pulled her off the seat and into my lap, breathing heavily as I started kissing down her neck again, tracing the purple hickeys I had left. My hands fumbled with my zipper first, my cock aching to be released from their restraints. Not bothering to lift her off of me, I lifted myself off the seat a bit and pulled my jeans down. Anni wrapped her arms around me, tugging my hair a bit as she kissed me hard. I grabbed the sweats she was wearing and dragged them down, my hands grazing her bare skin causing her to shiver. I loved watching her shiver after I touched her. It didn’t happen often with Anni, she hardly ever reacted to anyone touching her, so to see, to feel, her shake from my touch sent a rush of pride through me.

Anni lifted herself off of my lap as I pulled her sweats all the way off. She was completely naked in front of me now.

“God damnit, Anni,” I groaned, “so fucking beautiful.”

A soft laugh left her lips as she watched me pull my boxers down finally releasing my growing member. There was no need to wait any longer, no need for foreplay, no need for me to poke and prod to make sure she was okay. We were both ready as if we'd been waiting for years. I lined myself up with her and pushed her down onto me, groaning at the feeling of her tight walls gripping me. Anni buried her head into my shoulder and moaned softly at the feeling of me filling her up. Only a second passed before I started thrusting my hips back and forth, our skin slapping against each other’s. Small pants were leaving her mouth as she gripped my shoulders tightly, keeping herself upright despite being drilled into. Even though I wasn’t going too fast right now, the position allowed me to bury myself deep into her sweet little cunt.

“Holy fuck,” I moaned, “that’s it baby.”

My pace quickened as she started bouncing herself up and down; the truck started to rock a bit at the movement happening inside but we didn’t care. Anni’s moans became more erotic and lewd; she sounded almost angelic and I loved that I was the one making her feel this way. Her head fell back as she continued to ride my cock, meeting each thrust coming from me. I moved my left hand up to the back of her head and pulled her hair a little, just enough to get her to face me. I didn’t want to hurt her. She moaned at the feeling of me pulling her hair.

“Fuck, Anni, you sound so beautiful,” I groaned, pulling her closer by her hair so that our foreheads could meet, “such a beautiful girl for me, huh?”

She could only nod, her body shivering.

“Soda, I’m close,” she whimpered out.

“Let it go, baby,” I moaned, “I’ve got you.”

Those words with the quickening pace of our thrust sent Anni into euphoria. She screamed out, her legs violently shaking as she came all over my cock. I held her in place; one hand gripping her side while the other stayed tangled in her hair. I removed my hand from her back and smacked her perfectly, plump, sweaty ass. She yelped, rocking her hips into mine causing me to groan. Giving her ass a few more smacks, enough to pleasure her, I turned us over so that I was on top of her. My eyes danced across her sweaty body. I started pouring kisses onto her face and mumbling soft “I love you’s” as I continued to thrust into her faster.

“Soda,” she moaned, “I can’t.”

“Shh,” I whispered, holding back a string of curse words, feeling her walls tighten around me, “you can do it baby. Come on.”

I slammed into her repeatedly; removing my cock all the way at the tip and then slamming back into her. Her eyes rolled back as her hips arched. I could feel myself getting closer to my climax as I watched her, feeling her dripping cunt swallow me over and over again.

“Cum one more time for me,” I cooed, “I know you’ve got it in you.”

Anni couldn’t form any more words, all she could do was nod her head and let me coax her with my sweet words. Soon her body spasmed again and her legs shook harshly. Her screams rippled through the air, but I didn’t bother covering her mouth to hide them. I didn’t care if people heard and I didn’t care if that caused people to come over to see what was happening; all I wanted was to be focused on Anni.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” I croaked.

My thrust becoming sloppier, I watched her body go limp as pools of sweat collected on her chest. I thrusted into her three more times before spilling my cum into her fleshy, pink walls. Coating every inch.

“Fuck!” I yelled, “oh my God, fuck!”

I stopped moving, unable to ride out my high for too long. Anni was panting hard. I pulled myself out of her and brought her to my chest. Rubbing soft circles onto her bruised back as she gasped for air.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

When Anni finally did catch her breath, she rested her head against my bare, sweaty chest. A tired smile appeared on my face as I watched her look up at me.

“My baby did so well,” I praised again.

We stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Her glistening skin glowed in the moonlight, the cool air chapping her dry lips making her lick them repeatedly, her breast heaving up and down as she took in large amounts of air. Her black hair was not sweaty and clinging to her beautiful face. I reached my hand down and stroked the bruise on her cheek.

“I love you, Anni,” I whispered, “so fuckin’ much. You’ll never be replaceable to me. I only want you.”

Anni chuckled and closed her eyes, she was definitely sleepy.

“I’ll hold you to that, Soda. If you love me, maybe I can let myself love you too. It may take a while but I’ll do it for you.”

Grabbing the blanket that Darry normally kept inside his truck, I draped it over us and sighed. She buried her head into my chest and let her heavy eyes close. The sound of my heart lulling her to sleep.

“No matter how long it takes,” I said, “I’ll wait for you. I’ll help you love again because you deserve it. That and the world.”

The sudden realization of Darry coming out in the morning to see us asleep, naked in his car with the lingering smell of sex, hit me. A low chuckle escaped from my lips. I knew I was gonna hear it in the morning, but right now, I didn’t care. It felt like it was just Anni and I, all alone. That’s what I wanted.

#sodapop curtis smut #sodapop curtis imagine #sodapop curtis #the outsiders #outsiders smut #sodapop imagine #sodapop smut #sodapop x reader #imagines #smut #fluff #the outsiders sodapop #sodapop fanfiction #the outsiders fanfiction #sodapop patrick curtis

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togetherweflyhigh · 3 years ago

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It’s Okay (drabble)

Genre: Nonidol, a/b/o, a bit of angst from reader, fluff, established relationship

Pairings: Alpha!Seokjin x Omega!gender-neutral reader

Warnings: None

W/C: 1,285

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something small and sweet for a while now. Literally the summary popped in and said hello and demanded to be wrote.

Summary: Seokjin comes home to you making a nest which is… unusual.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very much encouraged! Thank you!!

"What are you doing?" The question comes as Seokjin takes in the atmosphere of the current state of the bedroom.

Walking through the front door things were off. The usual sweet scent of lavender and rosemary were replaced with the scent of rotten oranges. Before reaching the bedroom, all the couch pillows were gone along with the few throw blankets that were laying around. Guest bedrooms were completely scavenged of blankets and pillows.

You have never done this. Even though you’re an omega, you never have nested before or for as long as you two have been together and that’s been a while.

You were stacking the last of the pillows onto the bed when caught. “I…” You had no idea what you were doing either but you did know nothing was organized in the way that you wanted it and that felt frustrating just looking at it. “I don’t know.” The sudden feeling of embarrassment overcomes you as you sit in the pile. Your parents were both alphas so when you came along it was shocking when you presented as an omega.

When an alpha and another alpha have a baby, it’s rare. It’s even rarer that the baby ends up being an omega. Nonetheless, they loved you but the mindset of growing up in the shadows of alphas never left you. In a way, you felt a bit broken. You weren’t like them but you also didn’t act like an omega.

It was common for the omega to just stay home but you didn’t want that. No, you got a few jobs in the past and were currently somehow still working at a restaurant. It was hard to get work as an omega since no one wanted to grow out of old ways.

Seokjin comes over to sit next to you on the messy bed. “What’s wrong, my love?” A gentle hand is placed on your knee. Your scent wasn’t getting any better so something was clearly up. “Did something happen at work?” Of course, it was something at work. It was the only time the two of you were away from each other except for when Seokjin had business trips to attend.

You knew Seokjin didn’t mind you ranting out your feelings but sometimes, like now, you just wanted to curl up in bed. “Yeah..” You speak softly, hanging your head low. You were still reeling with embarrassment from being caught attempting to build a nest. There were a few times in the past where you had wanted to build one but it just never felt right. “I kind of messed up a lot today.” The tickling heat of tears can be felt building up around your eyes and nose as you recall the events.

It started off like any other day. The normal morning rush and, of course, the usual lunch rush but today was the busiest workday you've ever experienced. Orders were getting mixed up causing everything to become slower as you tried fixing it, a tray of drinks slipping out of your hands destroying all the glassware, even the computer system went down for a few hours making a payment with a card impossible. By far the angriest customers in one day you have ever dealt with. Sure, making a few mistakes here and there was okay but for an entire day was just too much.

“It’s okay, let's not worry about it right now.” If you weren’t speaking now then it was clear to Seokjin that you weren’t up for a recap. Instead, he stands looking at the pile of blankets and pillows. “Do you want me to help you with this?” You looked surprised at him before turning your head to the bed. “I don’t know. I think I should put everything back.”

“You seemed like you were on a mission before I interrupted. Why not give it a try since everything is here?” Seokjin was being so gentle and encouraging. You ponder a moment before agreeing. There was still awkwardness lingering in you. Nesting was so commonly known to be done by omegas and yet here you are attempting your first. Even when you went through heats, you never made one but the temptation was always there.

“Want me to leave?” You didn’t want to say yes to him as he literally just got home but you also didn’t want to say no. Seokjin reaches down, petting your head. “How about I make a snack run for us?” He was trying to give you some privacy seeing how uncomfortable you were with this new action. “Can we order takeout?”

The two of you settled on tteok-bokki and kimchi fried rice, something familiar before Seokjin is headed to the store.

You returned to the room now alone with the mess. Seokjin would be back within forty minutes or less. It felt odd. You didn’t know what to do but at the same time, you knew exactly what to do. With some minutes going by trying to decide rather put everything back or to make an attempt. You heard Seokjin’s ‘why not’ ring through your head and decided to take on the action once again.

The pillows were laid out like a barrier on the edges of the bed with a few of the lighter blankets covering them. The bigger blankets and some smaller pillows from the couch were inside. It made the bed look like an actual nest.

Crawling over into the nest for the first time ever was the most affirming thing you’d experience as an omega. What about it was suddenly making you feel so much better and just euphoric? It was so new to you still you couldn’t put a finger on it. Curling up in the blankets, you basked in the new warm and fuzzy feeling. This was definitely something you have been missing out on.

Time seemed to fly by because Seokjin was suddenly home again and the discomfiture was threatening to start welling up again.

You only raised up enough to peek over the edge of the fluffy walls around you when you heard the rustling of plastic and feet walking into the room. It felt like there was a hand reaching into Seokjin’s chest and just squeezing his heart as tight as possible seeing his omega in their first nest. It was by far the most endearing thing he’d ever seen you do.

“It looks nice, may I come in?”

Seokjin didn’t know much about the nesting process, especially how it was with you. Even be possessive over their space. Earlier, he could sense there was uneasiness about it, thus the reason he thought to go out for a bit. He was glad he did because getting to witness you like this was going to be memorable for a long time.

“Of course!” Your voice sounded tiny and as if you were starting to destress. It brought a sense of happiness and relief that you were.

After very carefully climbing into the nest, making sure not to knock anything out of place, he planted a kiss on your forehead before going through the two bags of snacks with you. The only time you left the nest was to eat the takeout food in the kitchen as you feared it would get on something if eaten in the newly built nest. Though, you still ate snacks in it. That night when the two of you laid down finally, you told Seokjin about what happened at work.

“It’s okay. Mistakes happen sometimes when we least expect them. I’m sure everything will be okay.” With reassuring words, your head calms for the moment as Seokjin holds you a little tighter for the night.

#seokjin x reader #alpha seokjin #omega reader #gender neutral reader #bts a/b/o #bts omegaverse #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts au #bts fanfic #bts reactions #kim seokjin x reader

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angelkurenai · 4 years ago

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Oh baby dear - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: Oh baby dear

Pairing: Chris Evans x Surrogate!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: After a trip that gives the chance to Chris to take a long-overdue break from his job, he comes back home with his mind made up to change his life. And even if it weren’t for the trip itself or meeting you, even though he had no idea if he’d ever see you again, he was determined to not wait any longer. Feeling ready to become a father he starts looking for a surrogate mother, only to end up finding you of all people.

“Son of a guy. You meant it.” brown eyes were wide, and for the first couple seconds no other sound could be heard in the room. It almost felt like the words could echo in the room.

“You're really doing this.” the man's voice was filled with just as much shock as was painted all over his face. At least the woman behind him was more calm, sipping on her drink with an ease that would have been troubling, especially in such a case, if it wasn't known that she had long ago heard the news.

“I wouldn't have brought it up in the first place if I wasn't seriously considering it.” the other man in the room couldn't take his eyes off his friend, trying to gauge his reaction the second it came through. It was bound to be the most honest one, no second thoughts, and he only needed his friends' honest thoughts. Not that, and he was sure of it, the other man would intentionally tell him anything but the truth.

“You- wow.” the shocked expression was still there but there was no mistaking the smile that was slowly but surely appearing on his face “Seems like Evans is finally joining the club, who'd have thought? That's what I call one heck of a year, quickly Scarlett note the date down! It's going to go down in the history books, I tell you. Oh you're in for one hell of a ride, buddy! Wait you knew about this, didn't you?” he turned to the woman but shook his head soon enough “Never mind. You're gonna have to look for a godmother but I do get to be the godfather, right? I really need to start making preparations, nine months are not even remotely enough. I gotta-”

“Take a deep breath and calm down, Robert. That's what you gotta do. Otherwise this kid won't get to meet its one-of-a-kind godfather. And we would never want that to happen, would we?” the woman interrupted his rambling, a teasing smile on her own lips as she noticed Chris himself chuckle.

“Oh goodness forbid that could ever happen.” Chris laughed some more, his chest feeling lighter than it had in the past couple days “And besides that, there has not been a surrogate found just yet. Papers got approved only a day ago, it will take more time than that.”

“You say that as if the second every woman finds out you're on that kind of market, won't volunteer to have your baby. Heck, I know most of them would gladly volunteer to do it the old-fashioned way! You'll see, you will be getting news very soon.” Robert brushed his friend off and got up from his seat, making his way to the mini bar to grab a drink for himself “Which means, I really gotta start preparing everything because a) this is Evans' kid and b) I'm the godfather and it'll get only the best!”

Scarlett couldn't help but laugh, while Chris shook his head with a chuckle, before she added “As you can see, he is going to be more trouble than the kid.” she ignored the look that was shot at her from Robert and kept going “But, speaking of it, I never asked: Did you never really consider adoption?”

“For most of the time that's what I had in mind, yes, but-” he sighed, easing back in his seat “I asked about it and my chances were sadly very low, given my job and everything, not to mention how lengthy of a process it all was. Sebastian was actually the one to suggest it and you know I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since. Granted, it is just as hard to find a surrogate who is also willing to be the biological mother but I feel like I have more to hope for this way.”

“You have every reason to be hopeful, I'm sure this will work out just fine. Besides-” she offered her friend a warm smile “There is no other man that I can think of that could be a better father than you. This child will be very lucky.”

“...The part of Robert being the godfather excluded?” Chris added with a smirk, eyeing his friend who narrowed his eyes at him, before both Chris and Scarlett burst into laughter.

“Life isn't perfect, what can you do?” she grinned as she took a sip of her drink.

“I'll try to be the better man, as always, and not comment on any spiteful comments against me. You're just jealous I am going to be the world's best godfather. Anyway, that wasn't what I was going to comment on.” he plopped back on his seat and gave the blue-eyed man a sly smile “Sebastian you say but I'm wondering: was it him or that summer trip to Italy that really prompted you to become a dad? Maybe a certain someone you met there? What was her name...”

“Don't-” it was all he had time to get out, his eyes wide and voice very warning; but there was never any stopping the man when he wanted to speak his mind.

“Ah yes.” Robert grinned widely “(Y/n).”

“What- Who?” Scarlett frowned, tilting her head to the side “How come I haven't heard of her before? I thought you told me everything about Italy.”

“She's nobod-”

“Probably the love of his life. Something like his soulmate. One he talks about a lot in his sleep, hence why I should hold more parties and have you guys over. The info I get is golden. Anyway, think of it as the star-crossed lovers but one where he isn't the Lana Del Rey young and beautiful, you know? Heard she's something like a med or psych graduate or something. So come to think of it all, Italy, soulmates and age difference, this is like another version of Call me by your-”

“And that's it for you. Enough words spoken for one day.” Scarlett said, not hesitating a second to place a hand over the man's mouth who admittedly didn't give up even if his words were only an incoherent mumble after that.

Chris' eyes were wide and there was no mistaking the way he wanted to not talk about it, as if there was some unparalleled sadness that came with the mention of your name, a deep ache and at the same time yearning perhaps because he missed you, just like there was no mistaking the tint of pink that was on his cheeks.

“That's-” he cleared his throat, avoiding looking at his friends in the eyes because he knew how easy it would be to tell that even so many months later the feelings were fresh as much as the day he had to leave, the day he left a part of himself on the airport with you – a part he knew real well he wouldn't get back again, certainly not from any other woman he got to meet. That missing part of him, even if the rest held all the beautiful memories dearly to itself and felt truly blessed, he knew was obvious. It was all on his face that he was missing something, even if he'd gotten so much. And he knew she would see it, it all became so obvious when he thought of you.

He shook his head when he realized he had taken longer than needed to reply “It was way too long ago, I can hardly remember it now. Hell, as if barely anything happened to begin with. She was just-” a lump in his throat, too painful “I made a good friend, a really good friend yes, who helped me see my life in a different way. Helped me make my choice and see the things that really matter. Couldn't keep in contact and yes that's a bit sad but- That's all there is to it, nothing more nothing less.”

Scarlett regarded him for a couple seconds, even as he tried to keep himself busy with getting another drink, before she finally spoke “If you say so.” she nodded her head “At least we now know who we owe this to and who to thank for our family growing, don't we?”

“Then-” Robert's smile was softer, yet also sad, as he raised his glass a bit “Let's drink to that, if not your baby just yet. To (Y/n)?”

“To (Y/n).” Scarlett nodded her head “For helping you make the best decision of your life, wherever she may be now.”

Chris hesitated, the unspoken truth of you not only being the one to help him make the decision but also be part of that decision, part of the family he wanted to build, was ready to break free from his lips but he held it back “Wherever she may be.” he said in a low hoarse voice, raising his glass as well “To (Y/n).”

He had not allowed himself to say your name in a long time and thinking back to it, the effect had been evident not only in his chest, in his heartbeat, but also in his lips, how painfully strange it felt when all he had been doing was think about it for months to no end, down to his throat that closed up with emotion. And he had allowed himself to say it not only so that he would make sure his friends would drop the subject but also because it had been a long time, he felt the need to and he knew that he wouldn't get the chance to do so, not anytime soon for sure.

And yet, only seconds ago, the name had left his lips for the second time in barely a couple days.

His brain could barely keep up with the fact, all the information he had to currently process seemed to make things even harder. Saying your name this time certainly had the same effect, his throat closed up and his heart leaped to his throat, but it felt like it was for an entirely different reason. He blinked several times, trying to make sure that what he was seeing was also true, to make sure that it wasn't wishful thinking and that him holding his breath had not reduced the levels of oxygen to a point where he couldn't even see straight. Truth be told, he felt pretty lightheaded.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n).” he repeated your name for the third time, the third time in only a couple days his mind nearly screamed at him, but it didn't feel the same this time.

“Yes, I would say she seems like one of the most, if not the most, suitable candidate for you case.” the woman behind the desk gave him a warm smile but his brain was still currently stuck on the word 'candidate'.

“I'm sorry. There seems to be some misunderstanding here and I- I don't know whose part it is on, but-” he licked his lips, trying to swallow over the lump in his throat “When you say- What you're trying to say- I'm sorry.” he shook his head and let a couple seconds to pass in silence; he knew she wouldn't ask before him.

Taking a deep breath he decided to speak, even if his voice was hoarse he hoped she could make out the words “Candidate for what?”

The woman frowned a bit but it was gone faster than it could register, as she spoke in a calm voice “Your case. To be not only the surrogate you are looking for. See, her current, and according to her permanent from now on, residence is in New York City and very close to the residence you have listed as your permanent one. It is important, you understand, if we take into consideration that she will be the biological mother of the child. You might want the child to be able to stay in touch with her, and vice versa, so the close proximity does help. Of course that is always up to you, but in most cases we've seen it hap-”

“When did she sign up for this?” he asked, barely able to keep himself to wait for her to finish her sentence.

“Pardon?” she blinked and only then he realized how he might have sounded.

“You're right. I apologize, that came out as wrong.” he cleared his throat again “What I mean is... does she know who I am? That she- she's signing up to be a surrogate for my child.”

“Every surrogate must be informed, of course, of you as you are informed of her. She too must know whose child she will carry, don't you think it's fitting? But if you are uhm-” she hesitated “Concerned about other children, then, you need not worry. It's not my place to say this but it seems like-” she smiled a bit, almost knowingly “That you have already chosen, so I believe it wouldn't really be against any rule to say this. Consider it an extra bit of information.”

'Seems like you have already chosen.' would be a vast understatement. It was like every cell in his body was screaming 'Yes', chanting it over and over again that he was seriously worried he might have projected it somehow. He could barely control the words that came out of his lips anyway. If anything, the second he had come across the file with your name he had been glued to it, his eyes and all of his attention orbiting around the single file as if he was Earth and you were his Sun. Not far from the truth either.

But it also must have shown- No scratch that. He was sure it had shown because he had done no effort to hide it, too stunned and happy and eager and giddy and blessed and so many other things, to try to hide it. And she had clearly noticed.

“So, no, she has not mothered another child. As a matter of fact, Miss (Y/l/n) is doing this for the first time.” the woman leaned back in her chair “She came to us with the belief that there was too much sadness out there and, amongst other things, she decided to do this little one thing to help someone out. To make someone happy. I believe she didn't really have any further expectations out of this, no further plans, other than wanting to do some good. We only informed her of your case and she said she'd like to help, nothing else.” she shrugged softly “For any further reasons behind her choice you could ask her, I suppose. If you do think she could be the right choice to be the mother of your child, then-”

“She is.” he said, maybe a little too fast, but he didn't care. He didn't find a single part of him that cared for how eager he looked at the prospect of you being the mother of his child. Granted, it wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it but it was so much more than he ever thought he'd get, of what he thought he deserved, when he had told you goodbye that summer.

He cleared his throat again, trying to straighten his back and look as formal as he should in the suit he was wearing. He offered her a small smile “She is the right one. I think I've decided. I-” he paused, glancing at the pile of files and therefore other candidates which he had absolutely not even taken a glimpse at and he hoped she wouldn't comment on it “I've thought things through, yes.” because no man could make such a decision so hastily, he knew, and yet he looked like he just had “I'm glad for all the candidates it means a lot but uhm Miss (Y/l/n) seems to be indeed the right one. I think she will do just fine yes.”

“Wonderful.” she smiled more, nodding her head “If it means anything, she seemed happy when she was presented with your case.” oh if only she knew just how much it really meant to him, ask his wildly-beating heart and everyone would know just how much “Now, you understand that while you seem pretty sure and confident with your choice, you will have to give it some more time, more than anything to get in touch with the surrogate herself and discuss through any specific terms you might have. We will be the ones to set a meeting. Of course there are legal issues that need to be taken care of, but you're a lawyer yourself so you probably know that better than anybody else already.”

“Y-yes uh of course, yes, legal terms. Mr Wilson will represent me on the matter of course. But you said-” he folded his hands over his lap and threaded his fingers and it was either that or let his nerves show “Meeting her? Will I get to meet her in person soon or...?”

“That, Mr Evans, is completely up to you, how ready and sure you are, how much time you need and how fast you want things to progress.” she said as if she'd had this conversation many times over and she probably had “It could be within a week, a month, or, if you have no doubts, within three days the soonest possible. So, do you need time to think over-”

“The soonest possible. I'd like-” he nodded his head, straightening his suit's jacket “I think it would be best if I could meet with her the soonest possible. She's just what I was looking for.”

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demonic Pregnancy (But It Makes the MC… Problematic)

Okay, so hear me out. I know the prevailing idea is that a human getting pregnant with a supernatural kid would sap their strength and what not… But what if the opposite happened? So basically, getting pregnant by the brothers would make the MC physically stronger, but more susceptible to their sin… Oh this is going to be fun. 😈

Trigger Warning: Pregnancy

Lucifer

First noticed something was up when the MC came into his office to bring him coffee and casually ripped the door of its hinges… with one hand… by the handle…

He didn’t even have time to be mad about it because he was already frantically texting Diavolo and Barbs that there was something very wrong with the human. They’re not supposed to do that.

Meanwhile MC is in the background marveling at the newly freed door in their hand… They hadn’t even thought about it! Is this what having power is like?? Are they actually dangerous now??? Better not let it go to their head…

*it is totally going to go to their head*

Lucifer learns two things pretty quickly, (1) The human is pregnant with his child and (2) They’ve just been given access to a whole lot of power and they’re mind is set on one thing: Domination.

The next nine months for him are spent practically having to leash the MC or else they’ll go out to pick fights with anything that moves to prove their “superiority”… His brothers and even Diavolo included!

It wouldn’t be so bad if their body wasn’t still very human and very breakable… and also they’re PREGNANT, so please STOP!!

This baby, honestly, could not come fast enough… Good thing demons don’t develop grey hairs… Poor guy…

Mammon

Noticed something was up when they were chatting out at RAD and they dodged a stray ball from Beel.

They dodged a ball. From Beel. And he throws at, like, Mach 7 speed… And it didn’t even look hard!

… But being the dumbass that he is, he just thought they had gotten a lot better at their magic. It was Lucifer who saw something wasn’t right when the MC was actually holding their own against Mammon and Beel in a race.

Was thrilled by the news at first but then quickly learned that he must have infected them with Greed somehow…

They wouldn’t stop begging for new stuff! Sometimes for him or the baby, but mostly just whatever struck their fancy the second that they saw it.

He’d try to tell them no but then they’d look all sad or whine about hard it was to be pregnant and how they couldn’t do things like tie their shoes or stand for long periods of time or…

(Never mind the fact that they could bench-press Beel if they wanted to, no no, that didn’t matter.)

His nine months were pretty much spent pandering to Lucifer and Levi for more loans to keep his MC happy… and praying they’d snap out of it after the baby finally came because he CANNOT keep paying for their crap…! 😥

Leviathan

MC and Levi playing games in his room and one of their online matches got particularly heated… The MC may or may not be prone to gamer rage, but that night they got so frustrated that they snapped his controller in half like a toothpick…

They were too busy trying to frantically apologize to take notice of their sheer strength, but HE did. And he was thrilled!!

Like, sure, it sucks that he’d have to buy a new controller but that was So. Cool. Their strength was like something out of a shonen!! He was honestly fanboying too hard to question, “Wait a minute, how did they even get that strong??” The MC later went to Lucifer themselves to get it all got sorted out (really Levi was no help whatsoever) and man was he shocked by the news…

Though he was even more shocked by the sudden spike of jealousy that they seemed to exhibit afterward… Like, extreme “You better not leave my sight” level jealousy… 😣

One the one hand, he’s kind of into it because being alone with the MC is all he’s ever wanted!… but on the other hand, dude really wants some space…

He tolerates the next nine months for three reasons: (1) He does honestly love the MC, (2) Watching them break (other people’s) stuff and fight demons with their bare hands will never stop being cool, and (3) He’s somewhat afraid of what they’d do if he tried to leave so… 😥

Let’s hope the effects are temporary…

Satan

Found out something was wrong when he and the MC went to the park. He saw an old acquaintance of his and left to go say hi but came back to find that the MC had uprooted an entire park bench to squash a nosy lesser demon…

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING, he’d ever read about humans told him that they were capable of that!

Figuring this has some kind of magic origin, he doesn’t bring them to Lucifer but to their resident human sorcerer instead, Solomon…

…and THAT bright idea ended up getting the MC magic tag-along throughout their pregnancy since Solomon wanted to make "a few” observations, the lying bastard… 🙄

Even more unfortunate though, is that the introduction of Wrath into their system also gave the MC an utterly monstrous temper which didn’t help their newfound strength at all…

Poor Satan gets saddled with caring for what amounts to a hair-triggered glass cannon… (though really it’s less protecting them from the world and the world from them 😣).

Needless to say, he’s lost quite a few bookcases over the next several months…

Asmodeus

It was another night with Asmo, so another night out clubbing. He and MC were together for most of the time, but they had left him briefly to get another round of drinks… and somehow got dragging into a straight up brawl in the process.

And they WON…

Asmo brought them right to Lucifer after that. Like, he loves you sweetie, but there were like ten lesser demons there and no way a little human like yourself could pull that off without something being up.

Oh he was overjoyed by the news, but the real test was yet to come… Who would give out first? The Avatar of Lust or a very, very, astronomically horny MC…?

In truth, no one in the House ever wants to talk about what happened for those next nine months ever again… The things they saw… The things they heard… Filthy, filthy things….. 😖

And more broken beds than anyone could care to count…

Let’s just say that they’re all happy the MC was already pregnant, otherwise they’d be dealing with a LOT more demon babies running around… What a hellscape that would be…

Beelzebub

The MC was helping him move some of his weights between rooms. They were only supposed to carry the lighter ones (which really weren’t that light) but they were carrying them so easily that the two got suspicious… They tried to lift one of his heaviest barbells and, to their amazement, they picked it up even easier than he could!

They both just kind of stared at each other for a few seconds before calmly agreeing to go find Lucifer. This probably wasn’t normal…

What pregnancy even was had to be explained to Beel since he doesn’t really understand humans and he only needed one thing confirmed…

So, they’re eating for two now?

And boy did they act like it! The MC’s appetite practically tripled as the months went on and he did his best to keep up for them. He even missed a meal or two for the first time in his life because he was so preoccupied making sure his MC had enough to eat… 😣

Their tastes also got weirder as time went on… At one point they asked for Solomon’s cooking which nearly had him “Nope-ing” out of the relationship right there. He stuck through it to make them happy, but he couldn’t watch them eat it… Even he has his limits, MC… 😟🤢

Wants the baby to come out already if for no other reason than he can finally go back to being the biggest eater of the House again. Having to work around two is a nightmare for everyone…

Belphegor

Would you believe he straight up didn’t know for weeks?

Like, they told him they were pregnant a while ago but all the pregnancy seemed to do was make them really sleepy…

Combine their naps with how often he’s dead to the world and it just never got brought up. 🤷‍♀️

That was until the day it was his turn to vacuum the common room and the MC was resting on the couch…

“MC, can you move? I need to get under there.”

“Hm? Oh, sure. Let me help.”

They then proceeded to get up and lift the couch with one hand like they were Beel or something!

He was, perhaps, slightly miffed that they didn’t think it was necessary to mention they had gotten a butt ton stronger for like a month, but you know…

Belphie has probably the easiest time managing his MC anyway because ALL they want to do is sleep. At most he just has to take on the responsibility to remind them to eat and move around a little.

Lucky bastard always gets off easy… 😖

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #tw: pregnancy

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dontworrysunflower · 4 years ago

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You Make It Better | h.s.

warnings: DEPRESSION, i apologize if i do not portray it correctly, i wrote what i could figure out from the internet. if this triggers you PLEASE DO NOT READ OR READ WITH CAUTION, nudity (? idk they shower together), very cheesy sorry

a/n: this is something i wish i had rn because even thought i’m not diagnosed and definitely think am depressed so ig that is where this came from. please, if you ever need someone to talk to, my messages are always open and i have no life so i’ll answer as soon as i can, asks (anonymous too) are always open. also i’m bad at endings so excuse that. (and writing his accent but we’ll ignore that)

word count: 2.9k

feedbacks/reblogs appreciated

masterlist

It was a late Saturday morning when you realized it was going to be a really hard day with your depression. You had woken up earlier than Harry, which was very rare. His arm was tucked between your neck and the pillow, hand laying softly on your arm, your head just below the right swallow tattoo on his chest, the inked butterfly on his stomach stretching with every even breath he took in his sleep.

It wasn’t much longer until he eventually woke up, his fingers suddenly grazing your arm as he fully opened his eyes to look at you. He lets out a guttural groan, stretching his legs under the blanket.

“G’mornin’ lovie,” he said groggily, voice rough as he bends down to press a light kiss to your hair. You don’t move, only your nail lightly scratching his side. His face scrunches up in confusion, and you knew if you were to look up at him you would burst out in tears just from how cute he is. “(y/n)?” He asked, moving down on the bed to be face to face with you. “You okay, baby?” His nose nudged yours, but again, you don’t react. You don’t even look him in the eyes.

All you do is shrug to his question, a little hum falling past your lips.

Then it struck him, and you see the exact moment when it does. But his face doesn’t change to a sympathetic look, he doesn’t frown at you with a sorry look.

Instead, he gives you a small and sleepy smile and pushes a strand of your hair away from your face. He scoots closer to you, moving you to sit on his lap, his boxers laying low on his hips, his inked fern leaves peeking through.

“Another one of those days?” He asked quietly as he moved to put his head right next to yours, his eyes looking up at you.

“Yeah.” You mumble, reaching over to grab the pendant of his necklace, rubbing the green cross with your soft finger.

“How bad?”

You continue to drag your finger over his cross pendant, eyes fixated his chest hairs. You sigh heavily before parting to answer. “Nine.”

“Hmm.” He kissed your forehead. “What made it a little betta’?”

You finally looked up at him, his emerald eyes still had a glassy look, still not fully awake. You’re hesitate to speak, your mouth opening and closing, thinking whether or not you should say what’s on your mind.

Very early in your relationship, you told Harry that it was hard for you to open up to people. You told him your illness made you feel like a burden towards everyone you know, you told him that there may be days where you wouldn’t want to see him because you’d feel like you're getting in the way.

But unlike the other people you’ve been with, he understood and was patient with you. And even though there were days that got really bad, he stayed by your side.

“You can talk to me, baby.” Harry took your hand that was holding his pendant, his finger grazing the skin of your thumb.

Your lips slightly quirk up, but not enough to really show that you were happy. But he could see it.

“You make it better.” You maneuver your hand that was in his to now hold his hand, bringing it closer to your chest and play with his ringless fingers.

When he doesn’t say anything, you look up at him worriedly, scared you’ve said the wrong thing.

But when you do, his face was the definition of happy. He was smiling so wide, his dimples were showing. There was a light hue on his cheeks, bringing his face to life.

You wish you could be that happy right now.

He brought you closer to his chest and pressed his lips to your matted hair. “Wanna just stay in bed all day?” You nod against his chest. “Whatever you want, love.” His arms tightened around you, bringing you impossibly closer, giving you a silent message of I’m here for you.

“Do you want something to eat? Some tea, maybe?” He asked sweetly as he started to pull away, his feet hitting the wooden flooring on your shared bedroom.

You looked up at him, hesitating to answer, but his fingers scratch your scalp in encouragement, his green eyes looking down at you sweetly. “Could-” you hesitate. “Could I just have some tea, please? Peppermint, if we have any.”

He nodded, bending down to press to place a kiss to your nose. “Anything to eat?”

You shake your head and bring the duvet to your face.

Before he can get too far, you grab his hand, getting his attention as he starts to walk away. “What’s up, baby?”

“Can I have a kiss?” you asked shyly, afraid he’ll reject you.

Instead of answering, he just leans down to peck your lips, but you hold his jaw and keep his close.

You give him one last peck before you pull away slightly, lips bruised to a pink color, faces still close.

You peck him one last time then back away, bringing the duvet to your chin.

“Don’t be too long.” You mumble.

He chuckled and kissed your head before walking out of the room.

•••

He comes back a couple minutes later, two mugs in his hands, a banana in between his lips.

You sit up against the headboard, the duvet just under your stomach that’s covered in one of Harry's old striped shirts.

“Thank you.” You mumble as you take the pastel orange mug from Harry’s hand.

You both sit quiet as you sip at your hot beverage, Harry offering you a bite of his banana after a while, but you decline.

Harry takes your empty cup and leaves it on his side table, the banana peel hanging from the rim of his mug.

“Do you wanna do anything?” He asked beside you, taking your hand in his.

“Ca-” You hesitate, scared he’ll say no or you feel like you're being selfish for what you're about to ask. “Can we just cuddle?” You asked with a pout, looking down at your lap.

He lets out a little giggle, getting under the white duvet. “I’d never say no to your cuddles.”

He pulls you close to his chest, the hair on his legs tickling your silky ones. His tattooed arm comes to lay over your stomach.

After a while, your eyes begin to sting, your sight becoming blurry, tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry seems to feel your salty tears fall on his chest. He plays with the ends of your hair and then rubs your arm. “Let it out, baby.”

Your shoulders shake as you sob, uncontrollable tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry held you tighter as you hiccuped, breath evening, eyes shutting as you fall asleep.

•••

When you woke up, the room was drastically darker. Harry’s side lamp was the only source of light.

Harry’s torso was against the headboard, one hand tangled in your hair, the other holding up a book as his eyes scan every word on the page.

When you shuffle under his touch, he closes his book and lays it by his side. “Hi.” He leans down to kiss your head, his hand now by your waist, playing with the hem of your (his) shirt you’re wearing that has risen up.

“What were you reading?” you asked meekly after you yawn, moving your arm across his fern tattoos.

“Love is a mixtape.”

“You love that book.” Your head moves up and down with his chest as he laughs. “Can you read some to me?”

“Sure, baby.”

•••

He had read a chapter or two when you realized, a small gasp leaving your lips. “Weren’t you supposed to go to the studio today?” You held up your weight against your arm, your hand digging into the mattress under you.

Your face scrunched up in guilt, your mind racing with the thought of getting in the way of Harry’s music, never wanting to be the reason he stopped working.

He just hums and and folders the corner of the page he was on before closing the book and leaving it on his side table. “I called Jeff when I was making the tea that I wasn’t going to make it today.”

“But why? You were excited to-”

“No one that matters, baby. There was no way I would’ve left you here by yourself.”

“I would’ve been fi-”

“No, you wouldn’t have and you know it.” His voice changed completely, more firm and stern than how he was talking earlier today. “Baby,” he started, he shifted in his spot on the mattress, turning completely towards you, taking your hands in his. You’ve always loved when you held hands. Loved to feel the comparison in size from your to his and your thumb always grazed his cross tattoo. You always get butterflies when he touches you, and that hasn’t changed since the beginning of your relationship that felt like so long ago.

“It’s okay to not be okay. I know it’s a struggle and everyday I wish I could take this pain from you, but I can’t. The best I can do is be there for you and hold you. And you may feel like you don’t deserve it, but you do. You deserve happiness and more. You may feel like every little thing you do bothers me and others but you don’t. I love you with my entire being, (y/n), and I’m surprised you haven’t gotten tired of me.”

You scoff through foggy eyes, but his dimples and freckles are still prominent in your vision.

“In the rare times that we’re not together and I’m with other people, the first thing people ask me is how you’re doing. Shit, I even get asked about you in interviews and fans I meet on the street ask about you.”

You’re full on sobbing now, his pretty words too much to handle, an overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude and happiness filling your chest.

“You’re not a burden, baby.” He said softly as he pulled you into his lap, his rough fingertips sipping the salty tears from under your eyes. “Say it, please.”

You take in a shaky breath, but an even, firm breath comes out, the ache in your chest a lot lighter, less painful. You lick your chapped lips before speaking, “I’m not a burden.”

His lips press to your temple, the warm skin. You both cry, holding each other tighter than what you thought was possible. You nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing his warmth and scent.

He sighs and gingerly kisses your forehead, his finger twirling the ends of your hair.

“Wanna go take a shower?” Harry asked, your legs tangled with his under the comforter. “We can watch a movie or something after, yeah?” He pushed back the stray hairs that had fallen out of your ponytail, the tie loosening its grip on your hair as you moved around the bed throughout the day.

“Yeah.” you mumble, eyes droopy again, energy slowly fading as the sun faded from the sky.

“C’mon, baby.” He wiggles away from you, standing on the side of the bed, his hand out for you to grab.

You move the duvet off you, goosebumps forming on your exposed legs and arms because you were only wearing one of Harry’s old shirts.

He takes your hand as you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, your feet softly landing on the wooden flooring of your bedroom.

Harry raises your intertwined hands and tenderly pressed his lips to the back of your hand, his dimples smile forming when he sees a blush form on your cheeks. “C’mon, love.” He leads you towards the bathroom, quickly turning on the light.

You walk behind him as he makes his way further in, opening the glass door of the shower to turn on the water, letting it get warm before he turns around to you.

He lifts his own shirt up, exposing his tattooed chest. “You too, love.” He chuckled at you as you just stood there in front of him.

He drops his shirt before tugging at the hem of yours, his eyes looking into yours for approval. You give him a small nod before he brings it up your torso.

He helps you undress the rest of the way, which was quick because you only had your underwear left.

You stayed close as Harry quickly undressed. The butterfly on his stomach expanded as he took in a deep breath, his hand reaching towards you again to lead you to the spraying shower.

The foggy glass door springs open and Harry steps aside for you. “Ladies first.”

Harry’s hand leaves yours to lay it on your back as you step into the steaming shower.

•••

Harry just finished washing your hair, his fingers raking through your wet strands, his chin resting on top of your head. Your hands mindlessly run up and down his back, your cheek against the swallow tattoo on his chest.

His thumb rubs against the side of your face, catching your attention. You look up to his green eyes looking down at you already, his dimples lightly denting his cheeks. “You’re pretty.” He spoke softly, his eyes shifting around your face.

You sheepishly look down at his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly tattoo on his stomach.

He chuckles at your shyness and kisses your forehead. Even though you can’t see it, he looks at you like you hung the moon, he looks at you like a goddess even though you have demons on your shoulders. “Which one’s your favorite?” He whispered in your ear before pressing his lips to it.

You hummed as you leaned back, Harry’s hands on your hips still keeping you close. Your eyes scanned his body, your mind at battle.

You suddenly lift yourself up on your toes, holding on to his shoulders for leverage as you look at the tattoos that cross over, inching close to his back muscles.

“The little guitar doodle, thing.” You said before you unknowingly let out a little giggle, you finger lightly grazing the darkened skin.

“There’s that laugh.” He spoke softly, a small grin widening on his face. His emerald eyes shining in adoration. “I missed it.” His fingers curl the ends of your hair. Your hands move to his face, delicately holding his gorgeous face against yours.

“I love you. Thank you.” You said quietly, tears fogging your sight.

He shakes his head without hesitation, wet curls falling between you. “Nothing to thank me for.” He lifted his head to press a hard kiss on your nose, making a small giggle leave your lips. “There’s that beautiful sound again.” He roughly kissed under your eye, your giggles getting louder. He pecks the corner of your lips before migrating slightly to nip at your pink lips.

Your shoulders relax as you sigh into the kiss, your fingers lightly grazing the skin on Harry's shoulder, his around your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

The warm water cascades behind you, flowing through your hair and falling down to your feet.

He slowly pulls away, so slow that it seemed like he didn’t really want to pull away. Wet strands of his hair fall into his face, your fingers quickly leaving his shoulder to rake them back. “Wanna finish up and get to bed?” He asked quietly, his chipped fingernails faintly grazing the skin of your hip.

You nod, backing up as Harry moved closer to turn off the water behind you. The steamy glass door opens with a pop, Harry’s feet stepping onto the white floor mat to grab towels hanging on the wall. He quickly wraps one around his waist, droplets of water descending down his inked frame, some falling down from his hair onto his shoulder.

You slowly step out of the shower beside Harry, grabbing the towel from his hands and unfolding it to dry your hair and body before wrapping it around yourself.

“Do you want one of my shirts, love?” He asked as he walked out to the bathroom (still completely wet with a water trail behind him) to his dresser, looking through his casual wardrobe.

“If it’s okay with you.” You stayed in the bathroom, watching him move around the bedroom.

“Of course, lovie. That’s why I offered.” He comes in front of you to hand you some clothes, just a pair of his boxers and his old ‘Hot n Hard’ shirt. “Always want you in my clothes. He pecks your nose and pulls away, a small dimple piercing his cheek as he smirked. “Also like you with no clothes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and pushed at his shoulder, shaking your head at him.

By the time you slid on the shirt he gave you, he was leaning against the doorframe, pink boxers hanging loosely under the fern tattoos. “Can I help with your skincare?” He asked shyly, his cheeks turning the same color as his boxers.

You don’t hesitate to nod, stepping farther into the bathroom to let him in.

He pats the counter, his other hand going to your back. “Sit for me, baby.”

You jumped onto the counter, silently watching him as he gathered your different products, you had too many to count (and didn’t need).

You sat quietly as you watched his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out of his lips. His rough fingers gingerly patting stuff on your face, laughing at your whines when he was dragging down your face instead of smoothing up. “It’ll give me wrinkles!” You groaned.

So now he’ll do the same with his skin.

What? He doesn’t want wrinkles either.

•••

yay!!!

@chillingonlife @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @letsgoparty-ah-ah-ah-yeah @tom-hollands-wife @acciosiriusblack (i know some of you probably only meant the instagram things but i hope this is okay)

(lmk if you want to be added/taken off taglist)

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wearywinchester · 4 years ago

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Something Old and Something New — Part One

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: mild angst, mentions of death, mild swearing, fluff

A/N: Part one to my mechanic!Dean series!

Kansas.

It’s always been home to you no matter what, even if your time was split between here on summer break and the apartment you shared with Sam while the two of you went to school together. It was somewhere that never changed despite your ever changing life, and that was something you felt you needed amidst everything swirling through your mind as of the last six months. A place that was always there to welcome you back home with open arms no matter how few and far between your stays back there were. It was home and it was familiar.

You sighed as you looked out of the car window, gaze focused on just about everything you could see ever since you landed at the airport just barely half an hour earlier. You had to admit you were happy to be home for more than just a short period of time, you missed it here. But you wished it were under better circumstances.

Sam was still back at Stanford surely with his nose stuck in a book far too thick for you to think about without giving yourself a headache, and while the thought made you smile, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling knowing you should be there too. You were nearing the tail end of your time in law school, having had one year left before you’re expected to graduate and get your degree, though you were feeling a little less excited than you think you should be. You were home instead of over there after all.

“For itchin’ to be back home, you sure don’t look like it,” Benny chuckled from the driver’s seat, glancing at you as your lips pursed and your brow quirks up. He nudges you with his elbow to accompany his words, his amusement only increasing at your grumpy expression.

Benny.

He was your parents best friend for as long as you can remember, the closest thing you’ve got to family since your parents passed away a few years back. He was an uncle to you just as much as Bobby Singer was to Sam and Dean, and you knew you wouldn’t trade him for the world. Even when he’s giving you a hard time like in that very moment.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on taking this kind of a break either, Benny,” you huff, shifting in your seat. You turned your head at the quiet sound of his laugh, your gaze narrowing. “‘S not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But that pout you got goin’ on is.”

When he looks at you once more it takes all but a few seconds for you to turn your head and look away, eyes rolling as you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your smile. You shake your head, knowing it’s no use to even try.

But it’s true, you weren’t expecting to take this kind of a break this far into college because you weren’t expecting to fall out of love with your choice in a career. You made it this far—you were twenty-four and on the brink of becoming a lawyer along with your best friend Sam. But somewhere between here and there you found yourself mulling over the possibility that maybe you didn’t quite like this kind of job as much as you initially thought. You chalked it up to burnout at first, a reasonable assumption, but after returning back from summer break last year feeling less than refreshed and ready to start the new year of studies, you weren’t feeling that same spark.

You were beginning to feel like that profession wasn’t quite the right fit for you, and that was when you decided to come home.

“You’ll figure it out, you know. You always do, Y/n/n,” he says after a little while.

The smile his words pull from you is more bittersweet than anything, because you felt so far from figuring it out that it was near laughable. If you weren’t going to be a lawyer, and you were entertaining the thought more and more every minute, you didn’t have a single clue as to what you’d do with your life. Going into the family business wasn’t exactly an ideal option—you knew your way around a car but you don’t think you could spend day in and day out being a receptionist forever either. You enjoyed what you did at the garage when you work, but you wanted to do more.

You knew that, you just didn’t know what.

“Sam doesn’t even know why I’m taking a break, that’s how ‘figured out’ I have this whole thing. He thinks it’s just ‘cause I miss home,” you say with a sigh, slumping back in your seat.

“You don’t miss home?” He asks, humor in his tone as he raises a brow in faux offense.

You flash him a half annoyed glance, lips pursed only momentarily. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Your frown has him smiling all the more as you sulk, your mood only fueling his good one because that’s just how Benny Lafitte is. Not that he likes seeing you in misery, he just sees that everything will work out in time, even if you don’t.

“C’mon, Y/n, lighten up a little, kid!” He says, as upbeat as he can be as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You roll your eyes and smile a little more. “There’s that smile.”

You shake your head as a laugh falls from your lips, huffing out another sigh as you look at him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Is there any other way to be?”

You let out an amused huff then, feeling just a little bit lighter than you had when your plane first landed, though the tension in the very pit of your stomach still remained tightly coiled in its ever present knot.

There was a lot for you to think about in the time that you had here, your mind always wandering back to how you’d tell Sam. He loved it there and it was clear to see that, it was clear to see he fit the job and was leaps and bounds more enthusiastic about it than you. You thought about the extra studying you’d have to do if you decide to go back, and the studying you should probably keep doing if you want to be consistent and retain what you’ve learned. But the mere thought itself was something that made your head spin, something that made you even more content with the idea to leave that behind and stay here.

Surely Sam would understand it.

It wasn’t more than five minutes before Benny pulled his truck into the parking lot of the garage, the one you’ve been to a million times over by now. It was just the same as you left it last—a little rough around the edges but it was like a home away from home and you’d never think otherwise.

“Dean’s real excited to see you,” he jests, nudging your arm. His laughter is immediate at the sight of your expression, a scoff leaving your lips.

“I’ll bet he is,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“I thought you two grew out of that phase by now.”

“Who said it’s a phase, Benny?” You smile.

Dean Winchester.

The one who stepped on the backs of your shoes as a kid, the one who took the last slice of pie and still will without a beat of hesitation. The one you stole flannels from as teens, especially the ones he wore most often just to hear him shout and complain when they’d gone missing. It was a habit that led you to find the stash of candy bars he’d kept hidden in his closet, snagging them not so discreetly only for him to turn around and get you right back.

The two of you strived to get on each other’s nerves and it showed to just about anyone who had the pleasure of spending so much as five minutes with the two of you in the same room. You bickered even on the best of days, always a constant string of eye rolls and curses mumbled under the others breath in complaint. He was just as stubborn as you, and maybe, just maybe have you met your match.

You hopped out of the truck and closed the door, smoothing your hands over your jeans. You squinted as you looked upward, laughing softly. “You still haven’t fixed the sign?”

The ‘s’ that was supposed to be upright at the end of ‘repairs’ had been dangling crookedly since the last time you were here, looking comical and out of place with the rest of the sign but you can’t say you were surprised that it looked the very same.

“What do you mean still? It hasn’t even been that long,” he defended, scratching his head as he bit back his grin.

“Benny, I was here eight months ago and it looks exactly the same,” you say, brow raised as you squint at him with an amused smile.

When he does nothing but shrug his shoulders and hope you take his smile as a peace offering, you simply shake your head and laugh, pulling open the front door and walking inside.

The familiarity hit you once you walked in, the slightly crammed and cluttered place smelling a little bit like gasoline and a lot like the lunch everyone had on the collective lunch break. The radio in the corner was playing classic rock, the station never having changed from it unless you wanted to get on Dean’s nerves a little bit and switch it to some pop music he swore he absolutely dreaded. You knew better than to believe that when you caught him singing some lyrics under his breath as he worked on Baby after hours.

You leaned over the counter, the desk you called your very own and your pictures were still there, little knick knacks still in there place but everything was just a little bit grease smudged from one of the guys taking up reception.

“Look who’s back in town.”

You stilled, gaze shifting upwards in an eye roll as a huff exhales through your nose. You knew that voice anywhere, it was impossible not to. It was the voice of the very one who strived to get on your nerves with nearly every word he spoke because that’s just how he is.

Dean.

You spun on your heel and met his gaze, the irritated expression you’d held for the older Winchester faltering for just a moment at the very sight of him standing before you before it quickly returned with just a little less annoyance than it once had. The smirk he wore was enough to do just that, a bit of grease smeared across his cheek with some matching stains on his shirt.

“Deanie,” you greet, his expression fading in favor of a more hardened one at the nickname you knew he hated.

It didn’t last very long, the very corners up his mouth quirking upwards in a way that was all too telling that he was undoubtedly up to something. You knew him by now yet you were still too caught up with something about him to realize it before it was too late.

“Y’miss me, sweetheart?” He asks, tugging you in close for a hug. He gave you a squeeze just to hear you whine an fuss over the fact that he’d been sweaty from the heat of working all afternoon, that and the grease that most definitely was getting all over you.

“Dean,” you grumble, shoving at his shoulders halfheartedly, “get off!”

He let go with a chuckle, his head tipping back in a louder bout of laughter at the sight of the grease having smeared on your cheek and the frown on your lips. Fighting your smile was harder than you cared to admit in that moment, and you hated the way that maybe you missed the feel of his arms wrapped around you once he let go of his embrace. You shook your head partly in a bit of annoyance and partly to shake those thoughts away, arms having been crossed over your chest when he looked at you.

“You got a little somethin’ on your face.” He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches forward teasingly to wipe it off, your hand pushing his away.

“What’s the matter, law school too boring for you now?” He jests lightheartedly, slinging the rag in his hand up to rest on his shoulder.

You roll your eyes in response as you look away briefly. That’s when he saw a flicker of something different cross your expression for a mere moment, something he knows is more than just a little bit of annoyance. He knows you a bit better than you realize. It’s different but you quickly mask it with a smirk of your own and he thinks nothing more of it.

“Don’t you have a car to fix?”

“Don’t you have a textbook to read?”

You scrunch up your nose and he scrunches his, and you’re seconds from snagging the rag off his shoulder before the phone rings. You round the desk as he leans his elbows on the counter. He’s got a smirk on his lips as you shoo him away, more adamant the more the phone rings as he reaches over and snags a piece of candy from the jar you always kept. Your glare is one that he basks in as he pops the candy in his mouth.

“Winchester and Lafitte Automotive Repairs, this is Y/n speaking,” you say as you answer the phone, missing the way he smiles to himself and shakes his head as he walks away.

—

You sighed as the old clock on the wall behind your desk strikes seven o’clock, the last customer of the day having just picked up their car to take home. The stuffy heat had cooled off some now the the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky now that evening rolled around, the fan set up in the corner helping just a little bit. Everything was cast in a golden orange hue as the sunlight streamed in, carrying with it the shadows of the pine trees standing tall on the other side of the road.

Your work day was cut a few hours shorter than it usually was since your arrival earlier that afternoon, but you were still just as tired, body fatigued from traveling. You were more than grateful that most of your stuff was already in your apartment here, the only things you’d brought having been your clothes and things you’d miss if you left it back at your place you shared with Sam.

“This place never runs quite as good without you, you know,” Benny says, nudging your shoulder as he passes behind you to snag his keys from the hook.

You smiled at his words, nodding softly as the sentiment brightened your mood a little bit more. “You ready to go?”

You stood from your chair and pushed it in as you stretched, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. The look on Benny’s face when he’d turned around to face you was one that had you curious, cautious at that. It was apologetic and amused all in one, something that was far too indicative that what he was about to say was something you didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t be mad, but—”

You tilt your head and your expression falls neutral as your lips purse. “Why do I feel like I’m going to be mad?”

He started to pass you and round the corner, almost as if to dodge a bullet, said bullet being just about anything you could throw before he spoke up.

“I can’t take you back home, so…” he takes note of your souring mood and he holds a finger up as you walk out from behind the counter with crossed arms. “So, Dean’s gonna drive you home. I already put your bags in his car earlier.”

“You what?”

The two words were doubly shocked and equally displeased as you and the green eyed Winchester spoke them at the same time. When you turned you saw him wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it to the side, his brows furrowed.

“Do me a favor and try not to kill each other,” Benny smiled, one that was far too innocent for his own good because you knew for a fact he’d done it on purpose.

But he said nothing more as he tossed Dean his keys, kissing the top of your head before he slipped out the front door. You turned to look at Dean who’d looked at you, a mirrored look of pursed lips and furrowed brows shared between you two as silence engulfed the place for just a few moments.

“I call radio,” you say, his brow raising when you head towards the door.

“Like hell you do,” he calls after you.

You were lucky it was only a ten minute drive to get there, the tension thick as you got in the car. He turned the radio up with a sly smile and a laugh at your glare, dodging your swat to his shoulder.

“Do you listen to anything other than the same five songs, Dean?” You huff, elbow on the door as you rest your head on your hand.

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he says, tapping the steering wheel as he pulls out of the gravel parking lot, engine revving as he sped down the road.

You look over at him to see the content smile sitting pretty on his lips, his arm resting on the edge of the open window as his hand settled at the very top of the door, the other rested loosely on the wheel. That very same Zepplin song was playing on the radio that you were convinced he listens to daily, in fact, you knew he did because that’s how Dean is.

“What?” He asks, amused curiosity in his tone.

“Nothing,” you say as you look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

“The hot shot lawyer’s got nothin’ to say, I’m shocked,” he says, faux surprise coating his tone.

“Will you cool it with the lawyer talk?” You huff, staving off the anger in your words with a soft shove to his shoulder.

To be fair, he didn’t know just why it was that you were back here earlier than you should be, he was just yanking your chain like he always did. But it became abundantly clear to him that there was more to it than just a little annoyance. That, paired with the look on your face earlier made it all the more clear for him to see that.

He looked over at you with furrowed brows, the dimples by the corners of his mouth appearing as he looked at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. He may have cracked jokes and got on your nerves just as much as you did the same to him, but he knew you more than you realized, knew when something was more than just a joke to you. You’ve got this frown that you don’t even know you have, and you bite your lip. He even notices that you tap your foot too—he noticed the little things but he won’t admit it.

His jaw clenched as he turned the radio down a little, speeding up a bit more down the open road.

You’re quick to get out when you arrive at your apartment. It was a nice little place, a house rather, one split right down the middle. You’ve got the right side and Mrs. Allen’s got the left, a sweet older lady that’s lived there far longer than you. She makes a point to tell you you’re her favorite neighbor, and she makes a point to say something about you and Dean every time she sees him that makes your eyes roll.

You knew for a fact she’d say something in the morning.

You snagged one of your bags from the trunk and he grabbed the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to carry my stuff, you know. I can do it myself,” you say, but you make no effort to grab it from him.

“I know you can.”

You sigh as you fish your keys from your pocket as you continue on up the walkway and up the steps of your porch, sticking them in the door. You drop your stuff down just inside the door with a sigh, grabbing the bag from his outstretched hand before you step inside and turn the front light on.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, shifting on his feet as the words sit on the tip of his tongue. The very words he’s been thinking about since you’d gotten upset in the car even if you wouldn’t dare to admit it.

“Good night, Dean,” you say, offering a half smile as you go to close the door.

His palm presses to the door almost before you move to close it, and he steps forward a step or two. Your brows furrow as you lean against the doorframe, watching as his mouth opens and closes a few times, and he’s lost for words for a few moments. You don’t push and you don’t pry as you stand there curiously, arms having been crossed over your chest.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he starts, hesitant and a bit quieter as he scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. “In the car, I mean.”

You stand there, and it takes a beating silence before he meets your gaze. The sincerity in his voice isn’t something you hear all too often in your direction, having always been jokes and witty sarcasm painted over his words but this, this was a little different.

“S’okay,” you say, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

He smiles then, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he nods. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You nod at his words, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Good night, Winchester.”

You let out the breath you’d been holding when you closed the door, back pressing to it as you tip your head back. The day you had left you more than tired, thoughts running wild with no end in sight. But the day wasn’t half bad, not really. The two of you had gotten on each other’s nerves every moment you get to do so, but maybe you missed him a little bit more than you thought. Maybe through the layers of wit and remarks there was a little part of you that missed the green eyed Winchester but you’d never admit it.

Unbeknownst to you, maybe he did too.

The rumble of his engine was clear as he pulled away and drove down the street, a huff leaving your lips as you rub your face as you lock the door behind you for the night.

—

Series taglist: @myloversgone @dean-is-sams-apple-pie

General taglist: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

#dean winchester #dean winchester series #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands. Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder. “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet. “I don’t know. It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me. Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath. “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too. I’ve seen pictures. And videos. They don’t even have ice powers.” He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One. You have only had your powers for a little while. Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged. “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly. You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light. It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest. He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.

But, first, he had to master the orb. Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first. Circle. Orb.

Ooorb. Yep.

The controlled application of ice. The evenness of the internal patterns. The solidity, density, and durability.

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said. Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.

Yeah. He was terrible at this.

He was having fun, though.

(Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah? Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly. “But, like, why? It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply. “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family. Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny. “For making Christmas tree ornaments. I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny. “Well. I’ve got to use that groupon. If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt. “That was awesome!” He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again. “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz. Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect. But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless. “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him. “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.

“Hey,” said Jazz. “Mine are fine.”

“I know! I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then. I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie? And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny. “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

(Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body. Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment. Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.

What was he thinking? He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people? He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.

Okay. What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny. “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…” He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage. “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage. “No encore. I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting. Chanting.

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker. “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already! Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

(Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy. Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.

It was a totally useless hobby. But it was… not exactly calming. No. He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times. So. Yeah. Not calming. But… meditative. Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic. If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well. Do you have one for my half-brother Randy. Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

(Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz. “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn? Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter. “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously. “And the blankets that are on fire. It depends on the yarn, you see. If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby. It’s terrible. Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz. She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother. “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz. It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz. “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny. “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby. Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown. Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

(Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.

Dora laughed, more openly. “It is fine, Sir Phantom. Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really? Your brother? Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet. Which were, evidently, both left feet. “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?” She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was. More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.” She patted the shoulders of his shirt.

“Thanks,” said Danny. “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora. “You’re being officially knighted. You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny. “Yeah. I don’t… what? Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word. He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems. “Of course not. So. Dancing. Important. For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard. “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay. Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

(Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones. “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah. That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way! This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated. He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine. You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine. When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny. “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost. “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault. Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.

“Ugh,” said Danny. “I guess I need to find a hobby. Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!” Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time. And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly. “But we were speaking of hobbies. Might I suggest ice sculpture? Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Burning The Midnight Oil (Javier Peña x gn!Reader)

Summary: Javier has been burning the candle at both ends. He just needs some rest. Luckily, you’ve got your husband covered.

W/C: 3.4K

Warnings: oh boy um. language, non sexual nudity, brief sexual jokes/innuendo, lots of talk of sleep deprivation bc that’s a plot point here, brief mentions of alcohol and guns (maybe once each), mostly talk of food/eating, eating meat/pork (Javier does, not reader) otherwise I’d say it’s fluffy for the most part

A/N: ☄️ anon, god bless your soul for this idea!! I really love it so I banged it out in one night and here we are!!

You haven’t seen your husband in days. You know he’s exhausted, only ever showing up at home when you’re off at work. It’s a terrible situation, the only contact you’ve had with him being at odd hours over the phone.

The DEA has been all hands on deck this week, requiring their men to be there at all times unless they’re at home and sleeping; even then, they only get about six hours off at a time, many of them too wired to sleep. Javier only gets to come home every other day, usually during the middle of the day. He’s been staying up for a dangerous amount of time, in your opinion, leaving you just about ready to find the heads of the cartel and beat their asses yourself.

During the work week, you can’t complain. You have no right to. You knew when you and Javier had eloped and married that the man’s job was a baggage you’d be forced to carry as a couple. You normally didn’t mind, but when it goes into the weekend, that’s when you get mad. Not just that you don’t get your husband at home with you, but that he doesn’t get to be home. He deserves it. Javier hardly relaxes during the weekends, and essentially does not relax on weeknights until he’s fallen asleep with his head on your chest.

Saturday found you running errands, expecting Javier home by midday at the very latest. Returning home with a pep in your step and finding no Javier there, your mood and smile fell instantly. It’s Saturday; your husband should be home. They should be letting them go home, you thought angrily as you took your anger out by chopping the vegetables to go into your dinner. Surely Javier will be home by dinnertime.

Nothing. 6 P.M., 7 P.M., no Javier, just a dinner growing cold and your heart sinking. You knew Javier had got his break yesterday, and had been in the apartment while you worked, but a slightly rumpled bed was the only evidence he was even there.

At 8, you walk to the phone and dial the DEA office, specifically Javier’s extension.

Your husband picks up and his voice wrecks your heart. “Peña,” he mumbles, his voice crackly. It sounds like his morning grumble after a long night of sleep next to you.

“Javi,” you coo, heart breaking. “Baby, when are you coming home?”

Javier perches on the edge of his desk, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “Fuck, cariño, I don’t know,” he admits, rubbing his face. “I just woke up, I got an hour nap in the break room office. We have to keep going. We’re so close, I can tell.”

You understand his desperation, but you know exactly what he looks like now, a stubble growing thanks to his time away from home, his eyes bloodshot and drooping. His hair is probably messy and his shirt is probably all wrinkly; you’re absolutely certain he’s holding a mug of the sludgy black coffee the office brews. He’s most definitely the picture of exhaustion, and even though you can’t see him, you know your husband. He is a wreck. “I can let Saturday slide, but you’re coming home tomorrow, I don’t care how long. I need to see you and you need to be taken care of.” “I’m doing just fine,” Javier shakes his head and you can hear a flick of a lighter as he’s most likely lighting a cigarette.

“You’re not, and don’t try to pull that card with me. I know you. You’re a disaster; I can tell from your voice. You haven’t eaten and you haven’t slept and you can’t deny it. I want you home as soon as you can tomorrow, you got it? Don’t you even fucking dare try it, Javier Fernando Peña.”

The full name: ouch. He sighs and exhales the cigarette smoke, then takes a sip of his coffee before answering you. “God, I fucking love you,” he chuckles softly. “Okay.”

Another sign of Javier’s exhaustion: how easily he gives in. Javier is a stubborn man, but over your years together he’s learned that you’re just as hard to budge. When both of you are set, neither of you can be moved. Your sarcasm and wit and willpower was what drew him to you in the first place; Javier could never have a compliant, submitting partner. He’d be a mess. He needs you to ground him, he knew and still knows it. It’s why you’re married now.

“I love you too, handsome. Call me before you come home, okay baby? I want to be awake for you,” you say, a soft smile on your face. Your voice is much warmer, less jagged and rough.

It’s the way you always get Javi, the thing that makes him melt the most: when you’re snapping one second and gentle the next. God, he fucking loves you. You understand him, you don’t question him when he comes home and doesn’t speak. You read him and then you hold him, and all of his fears dissipate with his calming breath. “Okay. I love you,” he repeats again, more earnest and purposeful. He wants you to know it; he worries you haven’t felt it in the past week. It’s also another sign of his exhaustion.

“I love you too, Javi,” you remind him as you chuckle and stand. “Don’t fall asleep on the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier groans and cracks his neck after hanging up, sliding the typewriter back to the beginning. Just a little longer, he tells himself, then he gets to come home to you.

The phone rings around 5 in the morning, waking you from a restless slumber. The sun is just starting to rise, making the sky lighter and colorful from its previous midnight blue. Knowing Javier would be calling, it was impossible for you to sleep fully, leaving you in a dozing state more similar to a daydream than to any form of REM.

“Hello?” You answer with a groggy voice, hoping it’s Javier. Who else could it be, at this hour on a Sunday morning?

“Hey, dulzura,” Javier sighs into the phone. “I’m packing up my shit now. We didn’t get Escobar, but we got one of his big guys late last night. They’re bringing in some Search Bloc guys and giving us tomorrow off.”

You nearly cry in relief at his words, making a noise between a sigh and a squeal, heavy and happy. Javier laughs softly at your noise of relief, allowing himself to smile. His vision is hazy from the lack of sleep, but he’ll be cognizant enough after this last cup of coffee kicks in. “Get your ass home, Javi,” you tell him with a voice just as sleepy as his own. “You got an ETA for me?”

There’s a moment of silence as he looks at his watch. “5:45.”

Your eyes haven’t even opened yet, and you finally let them as you look at the clock. That’s soon, really soon, and it makes your heart speed up a little as your body forces you awake. “Great. I’ll see you then. Drive safe. If you’re too tired-”

“Steve will not be driving,” he cuts you off with a grumble. It makes you giggle a little, his adamance that Steve could never possibly do something better than him, more competently.

“Just reminding you. I’ll see you,” you tell him and hang up before he can make another sarcastic comment.

He’s glad you hang up so fast. He doesn’t have the brain power for a classic witty retort.

Javier goes to unlock the apartment door about half an hour later, but finds that his keys aren’t necessary: you’ve left the door unlocked for him.

He’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone but you, but it really does happen: Javier’s eyes water as he walks inside to the smell of cooking, the stream of soft light through the kitchen window, the sound of soft Sunday morning music drifting from the radio.

You’re at the oven, cooking, and turn when you hear a noise, grinning to see Javier. “Hey, handsome,” you squeal and rush over, wrapping your arms around him.

Javier buries his face in your hair, throwing his arms back around you. You smell fresh and clean, so soft in the fluffy robe he bought you for your birthday a few months ago now. You’re surprised to feel warm water drip from his eyes to your neck, and you pull away with a frown, cupping his face. “Are you okay, love?” You ask, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He nods. “So tired,” he admits and swallows hard. “So glad I’m home. So lucky I have you.”

You have a feeling he doesn’t have the energy to kiss you. Instead, you press your forehead to his and squeeze him tight in your arms. “Okay. I cooked breakfast. You need it. Why don’t you go take a shower?” You ask, breaking away and rubbing his arms.

He shakes his head. “My arms feel like lead. I don’t know if I can even wash my hair,” he admits, his voice a low rumble from his chest. “Just let me sleep, baby.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” you offer, already unbuttoning his shirt and working it off of him purely for comfort. You know your way around your husband’s body by now. You could unbutton his shirts blind; in fact, you have. “Come on, cariño,” you murmur and pull him along to the bathroom by the side of an unbuttoned shirt.

Once in the bathroom, Javier blinks and squints at the bright vanity lights, overwhelmed. You turn on the shower, the bathroom filling with warmth as the water heats and steam fills the air. Even in his tired state, Javier loves to undress you. He tugs the belt from your fuzzy robe, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it on the counter. You then strip off your respective clothes, and you’re the first to step into the stream of the warm water.

Javi doesn’t have to say anything; you can tell his thoughts from your gaze. His eyes rake your body, taking in the sight of his most beloved person on the planet in all of your naked glory. He climbs in after you, and you grab a bar of soap and get to scrubbing, covering all of Javier’s body with the cucumber-scented suds. He leans his head back against the shower wall, loving your warm hands and the hot water. If he wasn’t standing, if his back wasn’t aching so hard, he’d fall asleep here and now. He’s never been more blissful.

You rinse his body then work his shampoo into his thick hair, your fingers scratching his scalp and massaging his head. “You’re the fucking best,” Javi mumbles sleepily. You just chuckle and work the soap into his hair, stripping it of the grime and cigarette smoke of the office, until he’s wiped clean, ready to start anew.

Later, you wash yourself and let Javier enjoy the hot stream of the water. He’s so zoned out you can’t even tell if he’s awake. You have to actually check. “Javi, baby?”

“Hm?” He mumbles

“Did you fall asleep on me?” You chuckle as you turn off the shower, which makes Javier frown at the loss of warmth.

“‘Course not,” he grumbles, taking the fluffy towel from you and wiping his face.

After the two of you have dressed in fresh clothes, you sit on the edge of your bed and wait for Javier to finish. He pulls a worn t-shirt over his head, then comes and sits next to you, kissing the side of your head. “You’re so good to me,” he mumbles into your temple.

He goes to flop back but you put an arm around him, catching him. “Excuse me, Agent. I made breakfast,” you chuckle and sneak a kiss from his lips, chuckling at the way his mustache is still a little damp. “When was the last time you ate?”

Javier stares off as he considers it. It takes a while for him to respond. You nod at that. “Exactly. Come on, I made breakfast just the way you like it.”

The food is still somewhat warm when you find your way to the kitchen. Javier loves the local cuisine, always has, but something about an American breakfast makes him weak at the knees. He sits at the kitchen counter and sighs as you hand him a plate of buttered toast. “There’s your appetizer,” you chuckle and head back to the stove. Half-cooked bacon, which you turned off when he came in, sits in a pan, and you turn it back on to finish. You crack a couple of eggs into another pan, making sure they sit just right so they’re the way Javi likes them: fried. You sprinkle them with salt and pepper, humming to the radio as you cook.

The sizzling bacon makes Javier’s stomach grumble. The toast isn’t even that warm anymore, but the carby goodness fills Javi’s mouth and suddenly he’s never felt so ravenous. The two pieces of buttered toast are devoured in a heartbeat.

Bringing him a mug, you pour some coffee and his favorite creamer in. “You’d better tip me later,” you tease him with a wink as you return to the stove, flipping the bacon and putting some onto a plate.

“I will tip you anything you want, I swear,” he murmurs before sipping at the ceramic mug, the warm coffee going down like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, warming him from the inside out. The A/C blasts in the apartment, making his dripping hair feel even colder.

In yet another pan, you start pouring the premade pancake mix you’d prepared before he got home. “All of this and the sun is barely up,” He muses, wandering to the other side of the counter and stealing a strip of bacon.

“Quit,” you whine and smack his hand, making the bacon fall back onto the plate. “Your order isn’t ready yet, sir. Stop harassing the cook.” When his arms wrap around you, your defenses fall. “Go sit down,” you say weakly as he kisses your neck.

At least he obeys. Javier sits in his chair and watches you intently, downing his coffee in a short amount of time.

Finally, the feast all comes together, and you present it to Javier on a large plate: bacon, fried eggs, fruit (which you know he won’t eat, but it’s worth a shot), and heart-shaped pancakes. “I wanted to make a pistol, but I’m not super artistic,” you chuckle as you refer to the fluffy cakes on the plate.

Javier shakes his head but smiles. “Thank you, dulzura,” he manages out before he digs in, devouring the plate at a breakneck speed. You’re content to watch, standing across from him. You go to refill his coffee and come back to find the pancakes completely gone.

It doesn’t take much time at all before the plate is wiped clean, the entire thing in Javier’s stomach. Food has never been the biggest concern for him; he skips meals often for work, and you suspect he hasn’t done much more than snack here or there over the past week. His eyes droop even further now that he has a full stomach, and it warms your heart. You’ve got your husband cleaned and fed; now all you need is one last step before you have your beloved Javi back.

“Alright, handsome,” you smile as you drape your arms across his shoulders. “Nap time.”

He can’t deny that. He stands, letting your arms fall off his shoulders. He pulls you around to his front and wraps his arms around you; you know what comes next in this routine. Your feet slide on top of his and Javier walks the two of you to the bedroom, you backwards and being led by him. Javier is not an overly affectionate man: kisses and sex, primarily, hugs if one of you really needs it. This is his one little act he insists on, since you don’t let him carry you.

As you waddle along, you kiss along Javier’s jaw, giving him all of the affection he missed out on in the past week. When you finally enter your bedroom, you stop as you feel the backs of your calves against the bed. You know this routine all too well. It’s usually reserved for when Javier can’t get his hands off of you, when you desperately need him on top of you, surrounding you, kissing your neck. “Wait,” you murmur and step off of his feet, going to pull back the covers.

You return to the end of the bed, standing on top of his feet again. “There,” you say with a grin, and Javi has no choice but to grin back then kiss you. “Okay, continue.”

Then your routine resumes: you fall backwards onto the bed and Javier falls on top of you. You both grunt with the impact but you smile, wrapping one arm around Javi while the other grabs the sheets and blankets and pulls them over the both of you.

Javi’s cheek is nestled against your chest, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes already shut. “Real cute. Get off of me now,” you tease and nudge his side.

His body beneath yours is all he’s needed, all he’s dreamt about while half-consciously dreaming on the apartment couch. He can feel your chest rise and fall, his head going with it. “No,” he simply mutters, his face squished against the skin encasing your beating heart. “M’comftrble.”

You can’t deny him that, you chuckle, your hands reaching down to entangle your fingers in his dark brown hair, nearly black from the dampness it holds. “Fine,” you sigh, whispering the word to him. “I love you so much, Javi. Missed you. Missed my man.”

“Missed you too, dulzura,” Javi mumbles back, but it’s clear he’s almost already out.

“How long were you up, minus that nap, Javi?” You ask.

He thinks on it for a minute, and you think he might’ve fallen asleep until he responds. “36.”

“Hours?” you exclaim quietly, massaging his scalp. “Baby.”

“I know. Had’ta.”

“Well, you can sleep as long as you need to now, love,” you murmur and kiss his forehead. He makes a soft noise of disapproval. “Just a nap. Wake me in like an hour.”

“Okay,” you lie, knowing you’ll let him sleep as long as his body needs it. “Rest now, baby.”

Javier nods and you exhale deeply, holding his head to your chest. He’s back now, your husband, and you know he’s safe, know he’s healthy and well taken-care of: you did it yourself. His breathing slows. You can feel it against your chest, the way the steady rise and fall becomes slower and slower and you know you’ve won when you hear a soft snore, his parted lips smashed against your chest.

You stay like that for a while, Javier lying on top of you and resting. It’s a comfort to have him pressed against you, to feel your husband’s body and know that he’s here. It’s even better to know he’s resting well, deeply, from the way he slumbers against your body. You intermittently kiss his head, continuing to rub his head in hopes it’ll loosen the tension he’ll surely have when he wakes.

About an hour passes, and you find yourself drowsier and drowsier as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky. Scooting out from beneath Javier, you replace your chest with a pillow to support his face. Rolling him slightly to the side, you cuddle in behind him and spoon him, your arms around him.

The quiet Sunday morning is all too perfect. You drift off too, then wake up an hour or two later and proceed about your household chores. You burn some pretty candles, clean, listen to the radio.

Javier doesn’t wake until 10 P.M. that night, 15 hours after he fell asleep.

Some nap.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos

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babbushka · 4 years ago

Note

Good morning from rainy old England again! 💙 First of all, I’m so excited for all the up coming pieces of work that are going to come from your sweet Husbands birthday session! Thank you so much for doing this for us 💙🥰 You’ve given us work like this before; but what would happen if one day Flip came home after a bad day of work and just needed some love from his wife? Nothing crazy, maybe just her asking if he needs and hug and him swan diving into her arms or something? Doesn’t have to be heavy or angsty, just our sweet old Mr and Mrs Zimmerman showing each other some love 🥺

Hello my dear friend! Thank you so much for sending this is! I hope you enjoy the fluff :)

1k, cw: mention of baby zimmerman, mostly just flip being a grouch lol

You smell him, before you see him. The moment he opens the door, an unfamiliar waft of tobacco hits your nose, and for a split second, you panic that it might not be your husband at all, until you hear the familiar curse under his breath as he drops his keys, and you smile.

“Honey? I’m home.” Flip calls from the foyer in the way that he does every day when he arrives at a decent hour, but even still, right away you can sense something’s off.

And you’re right, because as you round the corner to greet your lumberjack, he looks more surly than usual. He’s got a scowl set deep into his forehead, his lips tugged down into a firm frown. With a soft smile, you extend a hand for him and he takes it happily, lets himself be tugged into the kitchen where something hot and fresh is waiting for him.

“Rough day?” You ask even though you know the answer is yes, “You look like you’re going to kill something.”

“I fuckin’ feel like I want to.” Flip groans a little, sees his son sitting happily in his high chair playing with cheerios on the little tray in front of him, and gets over himself. “Just a lot of bullshit, one stupid fuckin’ thing after another.”

Picking the baby up, the boy’s bright eyes crinkle at the corners when he bursts into happy giggles, the kind that Flip’s never sure whether or not the baby is making fun of him, or just glad to see him. You always tease that it’s both, but either way, he smooches the boy right on his dimples in greeting, and sets him back down on his chair.

“Want to tell me about it?” You watch the interaction fondly from the fridge where you hand him a beer, one that he takes gratefully.

Flip wasn’t much of a talker around other people, he was observant more than anything, preferred to sit and watch from the sidelines, absorbing information like a sponge. It’s what made him such a great detective – he was stoic, and composed, and more or less a fly on the wall.

Except for when he’s just around you, in which case you’d be hard pressed to get him to shut up.

“Well first of fuckin’ all, someone parked in my goddamn spot. I’ve had the same parking spot for seven years at this fuckin’ station and someone decided to park there. New kid, Jones? Rookie didn’t know any better so I let it go. But then, the guy used my mug – you know the one I keep in the rec room? So now the kid’s officially on my shit list.”

Flip rambles on and on, listing off the things that he can remember in the moment.

“I had a meeting with Trapp where he basically told me and Ron we’ve got to push harder with the case because the FBI is going to get involved which is always such a fucking pain in the ass and we need to finish our work before they take over and have jurisdiction. And on top of all of that, I’m out of fuckin’ cigarettes at the office.”

“Oh shit, why didn’t you call me I would’ve brought you some.” Eyes widening, you feel for him. You knew Flip has been a smoker since he was thirteen and had no plans to start quitting anytime soon, and you also knew how big of a bitch he could be when he has to go without them.

Flip scrubs a hand over his face and shrugs, “I didn’t want to bother you, I bummed a couple off of Jimmy but he smokes Marlboro and you know how much I fuckin’ hate Marlboro.”

“I did think you smelled off.” You tease then, wanting to try and get him in a lighter mood. “I got worried for a sec, thought you might be sneakin’ off to another woman.”

“As if you’re not too much to handle as it is!” Flip scoffs, before rounding the kitchen table and pulling you into a tight hug, attacking your throat with bites that have you squirming out of his grip with a grin.

“Bullshit, you like that I’m high maintenance.” You wink at him, dancing just out of his reach, making him hunt after you, long legs making that job easier.

“Yeah I do.” He catches you, eyes flicking down to your lips.

You get the hint, and loop your arms over his strong shoulders, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting and twirling it between your fingers as he calms down, asking, “Kiss me a little?”

Flip hopes that his son is still working on those cheerios as he tips your chin up and captures your mouth with his. Almost at once you can feel the tension slip out of his body, he sighs out a long held breath of relief, finally back in your arms. It really was the best place for him to be, for everyone’s sake.

As your tongues slide against one another, eyes closed, lashes brushing against your cheek as your noses bump together, somewhere in the back of your mind you feel bad for Flip’s coworkers – you can only imagine the state he had been in all day.

“Next time call me, I’ll bring you smokes.” You pat at his chest when the kiss ends, and Flip nods appreciatively.

“God what the fuck would I do without you?” Flip asks dreamily, pinching at your ass as you step away from him.

Flip follows you, because Flip doesn’t really do much else when he’s home other than follow you around and bug you all day long.

“Die probably.” You throw over your shoulder as you check to make sure the baby is okay.

“Yeah, probably.” He agrees with a knowing nod, which makes you laugh, which in turn makes the baby laughs, and Flip can’t help but think how fuckin’ glad he is to be home.

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

I am once again taggin' some flip lovin' friends lol @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #adam driver fanfic #adcu #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman imagine #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman birthday bonanza

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

accidents happen

pairing: kix / mechanic!reader (afab here)

word count: 2163

summary: accidents happen even to the most careful people.

a/n: can be read as part of the kix/mechanic!reader universe i accidentally made (here, here, and here). made some tweaks to the og req but stuck to the general theme. sprinkled in a few of my oc boys for ✨flair✨

warnings: speeder crash, prego!reader

you don’t remember much of the speeder crash. it was a blur of lights, a cacophony of twisting metal and the screams of passersby as they worry about the wellbeing of those involved. that is, until your head slammed too hard against the controls and knocked you out cold.

the sensations of latex icicles checking your pulse roused you from your unconscious state. your eyes struggled against the bright lights of what you knew was the five-oh-first medbay, the foggy yet familiar voices of frantic clones being a dead giveaway. they were worried about many things—your condition after the wreck, whether you would be able to return to field work with them once you recovered, kix’s reaction once he catches wind of what happened...

kix hadn’t kept his cool when your arm was slightly crushed by general skywalker’s delta-7 aethersprite, how was he going to handle his cyare being in a speeder crash?

answer’s simple: he wouldn’t.

kix had just left the operating room when he heard the commotion of a new patient being brought in. jogging to the cot where they lifted the patient, he pushed his way through the unusually tight crowd of vode until he got to the foot of the bed. “alright boys, what do we got?”

“speeder crash just outside of 500 republica, two broken ribs, a—oh we got it taken care of kix, go get some rest-”

“you just left surgery, take a break!”

“this’ll be easy peasy, we got it!”

the voices of his brothers were agitated as the crowd was damn near trying to push him away. with a few well-placed nudges and shoulder bumps, kix realized that they indeed were trying to push him away. this just made him all the more intent on figuring out why they were trying to boot him out. he was a medic for kriff’s sake, bronco had no business trying to shove him out of the way like that!

“easy peasy my shebs, bronco! i…”

it was you.

you were lying unconscious on the bed in front of him, surrounded by brothers on all sides as the other medics, clone and civvie alike, were taking care of you. there was an oozing, bloody gash along your temple and a growing knot that was already grossly discolored.

it was instinct for kix to want to take point on this. it was you, he didn’t want anything to go wrong. and if something did go wrong, he wouldn’t want to have the scapegoat of blaming a vod for anything. it had to be on him, he had to be the one to take care of you.

the protests of several vode immediately follow kix’s insistence, multiple hands starting to pull him from your bedside. he begins to struggle against them and they immediately start to grip him tighter as they guide him towards the exit.

“you can’t do this! i need to-mmph! be here! let me go!”

“you know why we can’t do that, vod.”

“bantha karking shit you can’t! i need to be there, you don’t understand!”

arguments continued and tension mounted in the medbay, kix still fighting to get to you while the others were either treating you or holding him back. all other conscious thought ceased to be, the gut instinct of taking care of you being his only purpose.

then a firm voice booms through the chaos with enough force to wake the dead as he calls the medic’s name.

“leave, kix. that’s an order.”

rex’s heart was being smashed by his own boot as he spoke. he hated having to be the one giving the ultimatum to the frightened medic in front of him, but as captain, the burden fell onto him. kix was clearly not able to separate you from what needs to be done for the patient and he was not going to allow that kind of responsibility on his vod’s shoulders.

not if he was going to be able to sleep tonight.

rex’s eyes betrayed how much it hurt him, but the bristling of his words showed no such emotion. he couldn’t show any of this inner conflict, not as a captain and especially not as ori’vod to nearly every man surrounding your bed. but the men know that their captain isn’t heartless, that he views you as one of the best things to happen to the five-oh-first, that he has a reason for everything he does.

it takes a hell of a lot more convincing (read: sedative) to get kix to back down. rex and fives carried the medic to the barracks, taking care to lay him down gently. the proximity to the younger trooper told rex that a sedated kix was having more of an effect on him than he let on.

even though fives had other duties to take care of while on leave, rex knew that a distracted fives would not be able to complete any of them to his regular standards. so, like a good captain and ori’vod, he excused the younger brother from his tasks.

“you can stay with him,” rex could read the arc trooper like a datapad; fives was tense and afraid, two feelings that only his closest brothers would recognize on him. “he’ll probably feel better if someone’s here when he wakes up.”

“but rex—“

“i know you stayed with him the last time his cyare was injured, fives. he would be grateful to have someone with him during this.” fives nodded his thanks grimly, taking his perch at kix’s bedside.

rex returned to the medbay with haste, hoping against hope that your injuries were mild. his return to the medbay was met with you awake, recounting the story of how you were rammed by a rogue speeder that ran their traffic light.

“we’re just glad you’re okay, gotabor.”

“yeah, no speeder can keep you down.”

a wave of peace rushes over the tired captain and he takes his leave. you were okay, kix would be okay, the five-oh-first would be okay.

queen and starchild continued to praise your resilience (“the toughest mechanic in the gar” is what you’ve been dubbed) before they’re cut off briskly by morticus, whose face was sporting a strangely lighter expression, like some of the burdens he carried were lightened for a moment.

“but we also have some news, gotabor. some that you really should be told in private.”

your first instinct is to tell morticus that you trust these men with your life, that anything he had to say could be said in front of them. but something in his eyes told you that pushing the matter wouldn’t end well. “i’ll be here when you get back, boys,” you give the remaining troopers soft smiles and a gentle squeeze of their hands, reassuring them that you were okay now, that in the hands of the five-oh-first you were the safest you’ve ever been.

they took a reluctant leave, looking over their shoulders one last time as they left the medbay. it wasn’t that they didn’t trust morticus, no not that at all, it just seemed that you had a penchant for getting injured and when brothers were repeatedly injured in increasingly severe ways, they didn’t always stay around much longer.

morticus is quick to say what he needs to, privacy being a very rare luxury in a five-oh-first medbay whether on leave or otherwise. “now that we have some privacy, gotabor, i have some news.” again, there was this happier lilt to his voice that he just didn’t have. morticus was stoic, cynical, even a bit dickish on the right day. to see him smile and sound happy about something was abnormal but pleasant all the same.

“is everything alright?”

“more than alright—you’re expecting.”

your face warped in your confusion, eyebrows crinkled and lips slightly pursed. “expecting what, morti?”

this man laughed—genuinely laughed—at your reply and if you weren’t so distracted by your perplexion, you would have said something about how nice his laugh is.

“a child, gotabor’ika. you’re pregnant.”

a sly grin made an appearance, morticus’s voice slightly teasing. the air was lighter around him than it has been in a long time and he was going to enjoy it with everything he’s got. “i’m going to assume that the baby belongs to kix—“

“of course it’s his, di’kut! but we had been so careful, always using protection! i don’t know how this happened…” racking your brain, you tried to remember a time when the two of you were a little less than careful but came up empty. “we weren’t trying for this, morti. it just happened, it was an accident.”

he patted your thigh with a smile. “sometimes accidents happen to even the most careful people. just take this as a win and keep going.” something to your far left beeped—another brother’s machine—and morticus quickly reverted back to tense medic mode, scrutinizing the readings before taking notes in their datapad and returning to your side.

“you got this, gotabor. you’re made of the stronger stuff.” he flurries around you, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible before telling you to rest and that kix will be with you soon. it didn’t take a seasoned member of the resolute to know that kix was so devoted and bent on protecting you however possible, and you knew that he was probably sedated yet again. he would be here when he’s up, you know he will. you just hoped that he liked what he was waking up to.

rex made sure to stop by kix’s bunk to tell fives that you were conscious and by all accounts, appeared to only be mildly banged up. the way the tension fell from his vodika’s shoulders comforted rex, glad that he could give the arc good news to depart onto the unconscious medic before them, the smile on his face genuine as he departed from the barracks.

it wasn’t very long after rex left that kix began to stir. as predicted by fives and the rest of those aware of the situation, his first waking thoughts and concerns were for you. the arc was quick to console his vod and encouraged him to go to the medbay to see you as if kix could have been stopped. fives had to bargain (and trade some of his favorite candies from his stash) to convince kix to let him walk to the medbay with him, the medic still on shaky legs after being sedated.

everyone with a lick of sense knew to steer clear of kix until he was able to see you again. they made a path for him and fives without hesitation, knowing that all hell would be let loose if any of them tried to stop their advancing to the medbay.

“special delivery for gotabor’ika!” fives shouts as he enters, promptly getting shushed by coric and morticus.

you laugh from your cot when you hear your second favorite trooper before you see him. “over here, fives!” he follows your voice and soon, kix is being deposited on the foot of your bed with a smile.

fives grins and pokes his cheek, signaling for a small peck in return for his services. “now if you’ll just sign here-ow!” honestly he should expect the light slap you deliver to his face instead. “you got him from here, gotabor. get better soon, i don’t trust those kriffing ships without ya!” he leaves with a smile and a wave, comforted to see that you’re truly okay.

kix still hasn’t laid down with you and you’re slightly worried. by now, he’d be wrapped all over you like a tooka to lothnip. you nudge him with your foot to get his attention and when he finally meets your gaze, his eyes are wet. it looks like he’s trying his best to not cry but it’s soon to be a losing battle.

“kix, baby what’s-“

“you’re pregnant.”

the datapad with the reports of your injuries and conditions is cradled in his palms. bloodwork has never lied to him before but every nerve is on edge, like this would all be pulled out from under him the moment he let himself indulge in the what-if’s.

you weren’t sure how he would react to the news and he isn’t exactly giving you any hints as to how he feels about this which slightly worries you; kix has never been one too shy away from telling you his thoughts and the fact he’s doing it now has your stomach in a knot. “honey, what-“

your question can’t even leave your lips before the datapad is tossed on the bed and he’s wrapping his arms around you, face buried into your shoulder and failing to hold back the tears. at least he doesn’t seem to be angry, that’s a plus. “i love you so much, ner gotabor,” he raises his head to meet your eyes, one hand resting on your stomach with a teary smile. “i love both of you.”

kix taglist: @blue-space-porgs @leias-left-hair-bun @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @olluea @catsnkooks @simping-for-fives @captainrexstan @mackstrut @battletales @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @artemis61003 @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @capricornrabies @jedi-mando @whovianwar @hornystarwarsbisexual @bo-kryze

#kix x reader #kix #clone medic kix #star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #swtcw #clone trooper imagine #captain rex #kix x you #tw pregnancy #pregnant!reader #afab!reader

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

Text

I Promise (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4722 Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

PART 1

In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly.

His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.

His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.

“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”

Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space.

“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.”

You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back.

It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought.

A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home.

It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date.

The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of.

Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time.

Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive.

You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship.

When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.

As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you.

You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…

Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.

“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob.

Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know?

Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…”

His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”

Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”

“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”

You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.

“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted.

Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun.

“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.”

He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”

Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”

“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.

Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt.

He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted.

Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side.

“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”

Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.

“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.

Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”

He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.”

Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!”

“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely.

There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something.

“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”

Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.

There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world.

Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there.

Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.

“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.”

Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.

“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.”

When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.

Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.

It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.

“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”

He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need.

Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision.

“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew.

It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him.

Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.

It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence.

“Y/N… if anything happens…”

“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.

“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.”

He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.

You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before.

His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.

A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.

He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas.

Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”

There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.”

It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.

With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone.

Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.

While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…”

His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”

“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.

Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music.

Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad.

It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.

A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt.

This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.

The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms.

Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you.

“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more.

“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence.

You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it.

“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time.

There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”

Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris.

“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition.

He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”

A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”

The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.

“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut.

He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms.

Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.

#chris beck x reader #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck fluff #dad!chris beck #chris beck x you

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castielle-deanna · 4 years ago

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Destiel fanfic masterlist

My Destiel fanfics in decreasing word count order:

Hold me tight or don't (Explicit, words: 37,677)

Tags: Canon Compliant up to 15x13 // First Kiss // Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker // Conversations in the Impala // falling!Castiel // New Relationship // First Time // Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love //Art Embedded //soundtrack

Summary: With Jack’s soul now back, the four inhabitants of the Bunker are working on establishing a new routine. Between hunts, God’s wrath hanging over their heads and Castiel’s dwindling grace, the angel is not particularly eager to mention his deal to the Winchesters. With everything that’s going on, allowing himself to be happy sounds impossible anyway, right? Wrong…

With art by the fantastic @lizleeships

“Why now?” The angel asked quietly, taking a small step back.

Dean's fingers tightened on the tie he'd been holding onto as if it was a lifeline. “You said we were real. I want to believe it.”

“Even if it ends in pain?”

“Cas, everything I do ends there, eventually. There is always a bigger, heavier, smellier shoe waiting to drop. Holding back in fear of it doesn't make it any smaller, lighter or... or... “

“Less odoriferous?” Cas offered.

“Is that even a real word?”

“It is, indeed.”

“Sometimes you sound like you eat dictionaries and Victorian novels for breakfast,” Dean shook his head, grinning.

My unintended (Explicit, words:10,202)

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending // Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On // FUCK CANON! // Saving Dean Winchester - Retconning the finale - The fangirl business // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex // Slow and Romantic Sex // Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester

Summary: At first, Castiel is ready to honour his part of the deal with the Empty, but then Jack shows up with distressing news...

With art by the fantastic @jeanne-de-valois

Cas heaves Dean into a bridal carry, struggling under his weight, but still he shifts slightly when Sam moves closer to help. He knows he needs to stop keeping Sam away, because it’s not fair, and it’s not what Dean wants anyway, but Sam accepts it and simply hangs back with a nod before he speaks again.

“I also know it’s not my business, but… do you think you could talk to Dean once he’s up for it? I’m not blind, or stupid. You two have to stop only holding each other like that when one of you is hurt or dead.”

Love me right (Explicit, words: 2,436)

Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Porn with Feelings // Dean Winchester Wears Panties // Light Bondage // Panty Kink // Wing Kink // Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester // Light Dom/sub // Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester // Light BDSM // Dean and Castiel watch porn then recreate it

Summary: Dean asks to be tied up - who's Cas to say no to that? Written for a prompt by @winchester-reload on Patreon: "Thee Pink Panties"

“I want you to tie me up,” Dean blurts out one morning, closer to being asleep than awake still. He has no idea if Cas is even in the bedroom with him - for once, the angel is not curled around Dean with his whole body, their limbs entwined to the point where they can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins, cliché as it is.

There’s no reply, so Dean lifts his head and blinks the grogginess away to look around. Cas is in the room, sitting cross-legged on the green couch by the wall with an open book in his lap but he’s staring at Dean with eyes so comically wide Dean would think it humanly impossible if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes.

“For fun,” Dean adds in hopes that Cas catches his meaning. The angel looks slightly less taken aback at that, but he still appears confused and tilts his head as if a slightly different angle would help with unraveling the mystery of Dean's words. “During sex, Cas.”

Rewind the exit (Teen And Up Audiences, words: 2,408)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair // Fix-It // Grief/Mourning // Angst with a Happy Ending // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love // Grieving Dean Winchester // Grieving Sam Winchester

Summary: "Rewinding the exit wound, I'm holding on to you 'Cause I need words like anyone, and I need love like everyone With those words I'm strong enough, and I need love like everyone." (Rewind the exit by Volbeat) Obligatory 15x18 fix-it.

The Bunker is haunted. It's haunted by two faint apparitions of humanity who mostly pass each other by in the corridors like ships in the night, silent and distant.

Dean prays. Every morning, every evening, and most waking hours between the two, he prays. He doesn't know if Cas can hear him, but the faith that he can is all Dean has, so it has to be enough.

It's not enough. Yet Dean clings to it, because if he doesn't have that, he doesn't have anything.

Bite me (Mature, words: 1,407)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence // Vampire Dean Winchester // Mild Blood!Kink (comes with the territory) // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Summary: After Dean gets turned into a vampire during S06E05 - Live Free or Twi-hard, instead of going to Lisa's, he prays to Cas. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Vampire!Dean having a Cas snack"

“I can get you through this, and then we’ll burn any other bridges as we get to them,” Cas says earnestly.

“That’s not how the saying… you know what, never mind. I don’t want to get through this! I told you to kill me!” Dean pushes Cas away, but the angel holds onto both of his shoulders to stabilise him until Dean shakes him off in defiance. “Fucking stubborn angel, why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

“Because I’ve decided to disregard stupid orders!” Cas shoots back, and his previous stoicism is gone entirely. His eyes flare faintly with the light of his grace as he shrugs off his trenchcoat and goes to work on loosening his tie.

I wanna get you back again (Mature, words: 1,176)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair // Canon Divergence // Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss

Summary: Dean breaks into the Empty to save Cas. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Come on and lay it down/I've always been with you/Here and now/Give all that's within you/Be my Savior"

“Am I wrong in assuming that our friend who has the fashion sense of a flasher wasn’t the only one in love?” Balthazar smirked.

“Huh?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Bit slow on the uptake, aren’t we? You know what, don’t answer that,” he shrugged, rolling right over Dean’s indignant splutter. “I’m talking about Castiel.”

“I know!”

“So which part of my question was confusing then?”

“Fuck you, Feather Boa, the Empty is trying to push me out and you want to chat?” Dean scoffed, trying to stomp his way past him.

“Your trenchcoated boyfriend is that way,” Balthazar said dryly, pointing to his left.

Forward is just the way ahead (General Audiences, words: 1,091)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor // Baby Jack Kline // Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent // Tattoo Artist Dean Winchester // Single Parent Castiel

Summary: Tattoo artist Dean falls for client. Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Cas getting tattooed by Dean (or the other way around)"

“So,” Dean began, “It’s a simple black design, correct? Four rows of symbols?”

“Yes. It’s actually a warding-slash-protection spell in Enochian, the language of Biblical angels. There’s… well, there’s a story to it,” Cas chuckled.

“Is part of that story that you were named after an angel?”

Cas’ chuckle changed into full-blown laughter. “Yes. I have to say I wasn’t expecting you to know that. In fact, all my siblings have angel names, except for Luke, but only because they wouldn’t allow my parents to officially name him Lucifer…”

Waffles or kisses (Mature, words:1,026)

Tags: Domestic Fluff // Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural)

Summary: Cas tries to make breakfast for Dean - it doesn't quite work out... Written for a prompt by winchester-reload on Patreon: "Great British Bake Off contestants with fewer clothes and lots of flour!" I have nefariously tweaked the prompt to allow me to play in the canon!verse.

“You look like one of the Great British Bake Off contestants, but with fewer clothes... and lots of flour, what the hell are you even doing?” Dean guffaws.

“Is that Dean?” A slightly tinny female voice comes from somewhere underneath the bowls, and it takes a moment for Dean to recognise it.

“Hi Jody!”

“Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Cas says, rolling his eyes. Dean finds that his behaviour is not unlike Miracle’s after the dog got caught chewing Sam’s 3rd pair of slippers to shreds, and the comparison draws another laugh out of him.

“Hi, Dean,” Jody says warmly. “Nice to hear your voice, though it would be even nicer if you were the one calling, rather than hijacking a conversation between Cas and I…”

Dean ducks his head as Jody’s “mom voice” tries to work its magic on him. “I’m not hijacking anything! Can someone explain why my kitchen and my… Cas are head-to-toe covered in flour?”

“I was trying to make waffles for breakfast,” Cas replies barely audibly, looking down, shoulders drooping.

With those words I'm strong enough (Mature, words: 703)

Tags: Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy // Dean Winchester's Birthday // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Non-Explicit Sex // Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love // Dean Winchester Says "I Love You" // Pillow Talk // Dean Winchester Lives // fuck 15x20

Summary: It's Dean's birthday and Castiel doesn't waste a single second to wish him a happy one (Utter finale denial and slight sap below.)

“Where did you go, my love?” Cas asks, ruffling Dean’s hair, curling a longer-than-usual strand of it around his index finger.

“Thinking.”

“Uh-oh, that’s never a good thing,” Cas deadpans and Dean whacks his upper arm with very little force. “Ow.”

“Sarcastic asshole in one moment, drama queen the next,” Dean grumbles, and he fully intends to kiss it better, but before he could get around to it, he’s pushed onto his back and there’s a former angel of the Lord straddling him with a grin on his face.

Domestic (General Audiences, words: 462)

Tags: Domestic Fluff // Established Castiel/Dean Winchester // Fallen Angel Castiel // Suptober 2020

Summary: Middle-of-the-night Destiel chat. Just a lightning-quick ficlet as my first and possibly only entry to Suptober 2020. The prompt was 'domestic'

“Of all the human things, the constant need to urinate is the worst,” Castiel complained as he slid under the covers with a yawn.

“The worst?” Dean huffed in sleepy amusement. “Being shot is worse. Broken bones. A toothache…”

“They are worse, but they are temporary. Urinating is permanent. I will have to put up with it for the rest of my life.”

#Destiel #Destiel fanfic #DeanCas fanfic #creativecaviar #fanfic masterlist #destiel masterlist #Destiel fic #DeanCas fic

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sun-moon-stars-jedi · 4 years ago

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So we all know that Jason is a theatre kid, right? That boy loves Shakespeare and the classics, and he’s got such a natural flair for drama, he was practically born for the stage.

I imagine during his time at Gotham Academy Jason might not have had many friends or been really all that social on account of his background and most of the other students being snobs, so he wasn’t very interested in spending more time at the school than he had to. The one after-school activity Jason just couldn’t resist joining though was the theatre club.

What I want to get at is that somewhere in Wayne Manor there are videotapes hidden in a closet of fourteen-year-old Jason performing in his first (and only) school play, complete with Jason beaming at Bruce and waving at him after the final bow and Bruce’s proud “That’s my son!” coming loudly from behind the camera.

Those tapes haven’t seen the light of day in a long time and as such Tim and Damian have absolutely no idea what they are when they stumble across them one afternoon while cleaning the Manor (Alfred’s newest form of punishment when they get into fights).

As detectives the two of them obviously have to find out what’s on the tapes (and also they’ll take any excuse to stop cleaning - the Manor is freaking huge, you know?) so they unearth a VHS player from somewhere and hunker down in one of the less used sitting rooms, hoping that it’ll be a while until Alfred finds them slacking off.

At first they’re kind of disappointed when a stage and some clearly untalented teenagers appear on the screen, having expected something much jucier hidden away in the depths of the house.

But then little Jason Todd walks onto the stage, in costume and everything, and the video becomes a lot more interesting.

At first Tim and Damian are grinning, exchanging a rare, completely in sync look, because they both recognize an opportunity for blackmail material when they see one.

But then Jason begins to speak and they are both instantly captured by how confidently his words carry across the stage, recognizable even on a VHS tape, how he moves as if the stage was all he had ever known, how all the other actors seemed to gravitate towards him and their perfomances seemed to get better just because Jason was there.

They realise that Jason is good at this.

And not just a good actor like all the Bats are when they have to be, but with Jason it seems to go deeper, something coming alive in the boy they are watching from across the years, like he has found a place where he can shine on the stage.

Tim and Damian get so sucked into the performance that they don’t even notice how much time passes until they hear a soft “Oh” from behind them and turn to find Bruce standing there, something vulnerable and longing in his expression as he watches young Jason on the screen.

Neither of them says anything when their father joins them on the couch, eyes never leaving the TV, and together they watch until the play ends, Jason’s smiling face the last image on the screen before it turns black.

They sit there in silence for a while, each of them obviously thinking about the bright young boy they had just watched and comparing him to the Jason they know now. And yes, Jason isn’t trying to kill them anymore, he’s even working with the Bats most of the time and somewhat reluctantly acknowledges them as family, but he’s still so closed off, as if he doesn’t allow himself to come back fully to the family out of some sense of self-punishment.

“Jay‘s a good actor,” Tim finally says, the words inadequate, but they break the silence that had started to become oppressive. “Did he like the theatre club?”

“Yes,” Bruce answers, his mind clearly far away, “he wouldn’t shut up about it for months. He was so excited they gave him the lead in the next play because his first performance was so great, but then...”

They all know what happened then, and instantly the silence is back, heavier than before.

“Excuse me,” Bruce mumbles and then it’s just Tim and Damian on the couch, looking after their retreating father before meeting each other’s eyes.

And they may not have the easy brotherhood between them that they share with Dick, or the understanding that is so inherent in every interaction with Cassandra, but in that moment Tim and Damian both know exactly what they have to do and that they will do it together.

So it comes to pass that Tim hacks into Gotham Academy to find out which play the theatre club performed the year Jason died while Damian somehow bullies his way onto the theatre club and manages to make them pick that same play for this year’s performance.

And so Damian, pretending to be deeply unhappy about it, asks all of his siblings to help him prepare at home, because the imbeciles he goes to school with are obviously not on par with his own acting abilities, and even though his siblings are also not as great as Damian, they are adequate for the purpose.

Dick of course agrees immediatly, always eager for family time. Cass just smiles knowingly at Damian (and Tim) before she nods and Tim pretends to be annoyed but eventually agrees under the pretense of wanting blackmail material.

Jason takes the longest to agree, finally doing so with the declaration that he just wants to see Damian make an ass of himself in front of his whole school, but Tim and Damian can tell that underneath he’s actually excited about this.

So from then on the five of them meet regularly, which has never really happened outside of patrol, and it turns out they really have a lot of fun together. They joke, tease each other, make fun of Bruce, the usual stuff, but everything feels lighter when the thing bringing them together isn’t Bat-related for once.

Jason also starts to spend a lot more time at the Manor, not only with his siblings, but also with Alfred and eventually even Bruce and that is something Tim and Damian hadn’t expected, but they certainly aren’t complaining. It’s finally like Jason is a real part of the family again and they both have to admit they like having their big brother around - he’s different from Dick, rougher around the edges and not as openly affectionate, but it’s nice to not be babied or told to go to bed at a sensible hour, and Jason is always up for a prank war or other dumb ideas, so Tim and Damian actually have a lot of fun with him.

Then, after months of preparation, the play of course finally has to be performed.

Damian claims he wants a proper rehearsal before having to perform in front of the whole school and it’s not as if the other Batkids don’t know their parts by now, so they build a makeshift stage in the ballroom of the Manor and finally perform the full play, with Bruce and Alfred as their audience.

And while Jason was of course good in the rehearsals before, the moment he steps onto the stage this time it is once again as if he has found his true calling, as if something inside him has come awake that makes him radiate with confidence and charisma. His performance is breathtaking, so much so that his siblings oftentimes nearly miss their cues because they are so captivated just watching him.

After the final line a silence falls over the room, as if everyone is holding their breath, until it is broken by Bruce standing up, clapping as he looks from one of his kids to the next, something fiercely proud and loving in his expression.

His gaze meets Jason’s last, and they just look at each other for a long time, something seeming to settle between them after all these years. It’s not that time has been rewound and this certainly doesn’t erase the past, but maybe if they can have this moment that they both thought lost to a crowbar and an explosion, there can be others like it.

Tim and Damian share a look and even a tentative smile, and maybe this whole idea wasn’t only good for Bruce and Jason’s relationship.

When Damian stands on his school’s stage the next evening he finds six faces in the crowd that are only focused on him, and there is even a camera standing on a tripod next to his father, who is smiling proudly up at him.

Next to him sits Jason, draped casually across his seat, but he’s also smiling and leaning against Bruce’s shoulder in a way he wouldn’t have just a month or two ago, and that certainly makes this worth it, even if Damian will have to endure several more performances next to some of his less than talented classmates.

The things one does for family...

#jason todd #batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #I know the timeline with videotapes doesn't fit anymore but let me have my fun #they make me nostalgic okay?#headcanon that turned into a fic halfway through #...oops #did dami have to join the theatre club for real?#no but he's a bat and that means he goes all or nothing #dick grayson #cassandra cain #my writing

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