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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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The Difference

Companion Piece to The Pool | Masterlist

Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Mature (no explicit sexual content) Warnings: Fluff, cursing, sexual innuendo, canon-typical sexism, alcohol, cigarette smoking... I think that’s it? Notes: Uh... I love this man? Summary: The pools haven’t stopped, but now Borracho’s involved, too.

The dynamic in the office doesn’t change. I mean, sure, the guys know that you and Borracho are together, but you expected to take way more teasing about it. If they get on Borracho’s case about you when you’re not around, he doesn’t tell you. But when you’re at work, you’re at work. The two of you aren’t affectionate there, you don’t make it a point to take your breaks at the same time or grab lunch together. Things are as they were. Where the teasing does creep in is when you all have downtime - when you’re grabbing a drink as a team. The pools haven’t stopped, either, but now Borracho’s involved, too. Henderson’ll bate him with, “Nah, but I bet Borracho doesn’t even know his girl’s birthday,” (He does). Connors’ll tack on, “A pitcher says Tech can’t tell us where he got his nickname from,” (You can). And Zapata? “Tech’s favorite topping, for all the marbles?” (It’s hot sauce, but you bat your eyes and coo, “Borracho,” and the guys groan and make gagging noises as Borracho throws his head back and laughs).

“Man, tell your girlfriend to behave herself,” Henderson scoffs. They say shit like that a lot. It irks you, and Borracho knows that. If he were anyone else he might lean into it, but he doesn’t. “She’s got herself handled, Henderson,” Is his answer that time. Another, when you’re kicking Connors’ ass at pool, Connors looks to Borracho as he comes over and says, “Dude, tell your girlfriend that hustling people is fuckin’ rude.” “He’s just being a sore loser,” You justify to Borracho, even as you stare Connors down. Borracho’s hand settles on your lower back and he leans in, pecking your cheek and murmuring, “Fuck it up, sweetheart.”

The Magalons aren't like your family. You grew up in a much more formal household - you only saw aunts and uncles once every couple of months, and you knew at least a week in advance that you'd be going by, or that they'd be coming over.

But the Magalons? They have an open door policy that astounds you. And once you and Borracho are dating, it extends to you, too - his mother and sisters make sure that you know it, tell you that you can drop by any time, with or without Borracho. The prospect is daunting at first. You don't want to offend them, but you just don't... Quite know how to do that. Borracho is gentle as he waves off your worry.

"They like you, sweetness. They just wanna get to know you a bit better, is all," He murmurs, "Stopping by doesn't have to be a big thing, stay for a cup of coffee and then say you have to run errands-- but don't stress yourself out about it."

His thumb smooths over the wrinkle in your brow before he leans down and pecks your lips.

You try not to let it stress you out, really. That first visit to his mom's house is a little awkward for all of you - Isobel and Nadia are there with their kids, and you still don't know one another very well - but you're trying, and by the end of it, you get a hug from them. One of Isobel's daughters even asks you when you're coming back. You don't have to mention it to Borracho when you see him. Apparently your drop-in made the family group chat - there's a picture of you having a tea party with two of his nieces.

"Maybe I should get you your own tiara and tutu," He teases, and you roll your eyes.

It isn't always that smooth, of course. Sometimes you have plans to go over and see them and you get called into work on short notice. You feel awful when that happens, but they understand - they've been dealing with it with Borracho for years.

They don’t mind you being touchy with him, either. That throws you. You’re touchy with Borracho when it’s just the two of you alone at one of your apartments, but when you’re around the family, at first, you just a little skittish when Borracho starts getting affectionate. Your family was like that, too - just, very concerned with propriety and appearances around everyone else. Borracho tells you that no one cares, tries to coax you into giving him more than just a peck when the two of you are able to spend an afternoon with his family. It’s Megan, Borracho’s oldest sister, that finally kinda convinces you that it’s fine. It’s not anything she says, it’s just the way that she is - you see her cozying up with her new boyfriend, and it warms you. You relax after that, slowly. Giving Borracho a few kisses, teasingly slapping his ass when you pass him in the kitchen. It’s not salacious, it’s just… Comfortable. You’re not even offended when Isobel tells you later that she’s glad you’ve finally ‘chilled out’, cause you kinda have. Later, when you’re sitting on Borracho’s knee and leaning against his chest, he turns his head and noses along your neck, and murmurs, “You know I love you, right?” You look down at him as he leans away and you nod, brow furrowing a little. “Of course I know,” You say quietly, “I love you, too.” He nods, murmurs, “I know,” And smiles up at you. He leans up for a kiss, and instead of tensing up and leaning away like you might’ve a few weeks ago, you give it to him, and then another, and then another. -- You don’t talk about marriage at first - it just hasn’t come up. You know that he married his high school sweetheart, but they were only together a couple of years before they divorced (all of the guys on the team have been married and divorced at least once). His sister Nadia tells you, too (“Just in case -- Look I love my brother and all, but sometimes guys don’t tell you everything they’re supposed to, you know?”). And you appreciate that, of course, but you’re not worried about it. The two of you are fine the way you are.

It’s Borracho that brings it up. Megan gets engaged to her boyfriend - fast, I’m talking six months in. You’re happy for them, though. Sure, it seems a little rushed to you, but who are you to judge, and they seem really happy. The night after the engagement party, as the two of you lay in bed, Borracho murmurs, “You ever think about it?” “What?” You’re half-asleep; the last thing the two of you were talking about was whether or not Connors wears a baseball cap all the time ‘cause he’s getting a bald spot. Borracho doesn’t say it. He takes hold of your left hand and lightly runs his thumb over your ring finger. You tip your head up to blink blearily at him in the dark. You don’t need to ask where the question’s come from, but it’s just caught you so off guard. “... I’ve thought about it,” You’re afraid to say it too loudly, in case he’s putting you on. He intertwines his fingers with yours and squeezes your hand gently. “What have you thought?” You shrug. “I don’t know… Just the-- The idea of it, I guess.” “To me?” “No, to Henderson-- Yes, to you.” “Thank god you clarified, I was afraid I was gonna be stuck in line behind Henderson.” You flick Borracho’s chest before resting your head back down on his shoulder. “We’d never last. He wouldn’t buy me the right kind of hot sauce.” “That’s the only reason?” Borracho laughs. “Well, I’m also kinda in love with you. It would put a damper on the marriage.” “I’d make a great second husband.”

“You’d make a great first one.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, and even though the two of you have been teasing, you’re worried Borracho’s going to really laugh at you. He doesn’t, though. He won’t - you’re too dear to him and he’s too good, he wouldn’t do this to you as a joke. “I didn’t the first time around,” He admits, “We were young and I was pretty stupid.” You’re surprised he’s talking about it. So far the conversations around his ex-wife have just been that he has one. You’re quiet as Borracho tells you about her, about them; you’re not jealous, you’re comforted, actually. He’s trusting you with this. “...Have you ever wanted to marry anyone you’ve been with?” He asks after he’s gone quiet about her. You shake your head a little bit. He perks up at that, and you can practically hear how his brows have risen as he presses, “Really?” “Why’s that so surprising?” “What changed?” You’re quiet for a few moments, looking down through the dim light of the room at where your hands are still intertwined. “I couldn’t see a future with them.” And then his hand is cupping the back of your neck to tip your head up, and his lips are sliding over yours in what you’re sure is the softest kiss this man has ever given you. He lifts your joined hands to rest over his heart, and you ache with loving him. -- “You need to come get your man.” Well that’s a new one. You’ve had the day off, and you knew that the guys were going to grab drinks after their shift, but you didn’t expect a call like this from Henderson. “Big night?” You ask dryly. Borracho grunts, taking one long, final drag from his cigarette as he gets into the passenger seat of your car. “Big night,” He mumbles, flicking the cigarette out of the window, adding, “Sorry.” “It’s okay, baby,” You chuckle as he does up his seat belt. He leans over for a kiss, sliding a hand between your thighs. You smile into it. “Someone’s in a mood,” You tease. “I’m always in a mood when it comes to you,” He mumbles, kissing your neck. You huff, squeezing your thighs shut to stop his hand from moving. “Wait ‘til we get home, baby.” “Do we have to?” “I’m not getting pulled over because you’re horned up.” “No fun,” Borracho grumbles, settling back in his seat and tipping his head back against the headrest.

“Big night?” You tease as Borracho crowds up behind you at your kitchen counter. His arms loop around your waist and he presses his face into your neck.

“Stop yelling at me,” He mumbles. You giggle, unable to help it.

“Wow, someone really did it up, huh.”

He hums.

“Coffee? Or I’ve got room-temperature gatorade and white rice.”

“God I love you.”

You don’t find out just how big of a night out Borracho had until about two hours later, when his phone buzzes. The two of you have been settled on the couch with the tv volume turned way down, zoning out to Breaking Bad reruns. He reads the text, and he groans.

“What is it?” You ask.

“...You’re gonna find out, anyway,” He mumbles and passes you his phone. It’s a text from Nick, Checked public records - no wedding certificate for Borracho and Tech. Henderson and Connors, pay up.

Your brow furrows, and you hand the phone back.

“Explain?”

“I may’ve had a... slip of the tongue last night.”

He’s suddenly very interested in the tv. You’re stunned for a few seconds.

“We were talking about that stuff the other night, it was on my mind… I was drinking…” He adds.

“And they thought we’d eloped and neglected to tell them?”

“And put money on it.”

“Classic,” You sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions.

“...Would you want to elope?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks.

“Your sisters would kill us.”

“True.”

The two of you watch tv for a few more minutes in silence.

“Did you realize, or--”

Borracho shakes his head, “Henderson caught it.”

“So do I have to ask Henderson for what you said?”

“I said, ‘shit, it’s getting late, I should text my wife’.”

You’re grinning, and you think you feel a little lightheaded, but in the good way.

“You switched to water after that, huh,” You tease.

“Bet your cute ass I did.”

#The Pool #The Difference #What are these titles? Who knows!#Not Me!#Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Den of Thieves #Maurice Compte characters

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janicho88 · 5 years ago

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In This Together

Pic originally posted by jrackles

Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count-9825

Summary-The reader hasn’t been feeling well and is afraid to go to a doctor, because of her medical history. One thing seems to lead to another, but she has her husband Dean to lean on. This is AU

Warnings- Sick reader, Little bit of language, A little angst, and maybe a little fluff, slight implied smut. Possible triggers talks of multiple surgeries some are a little descriptive, talk of possible loss of fertility, female problems.

A/N This is my first fic I have finished. I have had some things going on, I needed someone like Dean, this was the closest I could get to having him. It is unbeta’d all mistakes are mine. @winchest09 and @katehuntington you two are absolutely amazing!! Without you two, your virtual lockdowns and the people I met because of them, I never would have had the confidence to finish this let alone post it. Thank you!

You sighed as you rolled over in bed, time to get up and start another day. Although you were hoping today was different. You were hoping the pain you had been having which couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be in your side or abdomen would actually be gone. Something that had just been in your head. You had felt a kind of off for the last 2 weeks but had kept that to yourself.

“Morning Sweetheart,” came from your husband of four years, as Dean walked back in your room fresh from the shower. A quick kiss good morning before he finished getting dressed and you headed to get yourself ready in the bathroom. Soon you were both out the door and off to work. Dean was a partner in his father’s mechanic business. It was doing well for him; he’d even added on auto parts store next door. You were running your family’s restaurants, your parents slowly cutting back on their day to day involvement, but not leaving entirely yet because you were going to need their help in the new year.

You enjoyed your mornings at work, for the first few hours it was just you preparing things for the day, your radio playing softly your only companion. It wasn’t long before your daytime employees came in and the lunch rush began you all working as a team everything going smoothly today. It was while working on clean up and the dinner prep, one of your workers, and your friend, Donna found you in a back corner with your hands on your right side. When she asked what was going on, you told her you were fine and went to finish the task you were working on. Before she left Donna passed by your office where she saw you inside with a look of pain on your face again, your ringing phone interrupted her from saying anything to you then.

Dean beat you home from work and was preparing hamburgers to grill when you walked in. You set your things down and met him in the kitchen for a kiss, “Hey Babe, how was your day?”

“Good. The new guy, Gabe, I was telling you about should work out well, might be a little bit of a smart ass. Benny seems to have taken him under his wing to show him the ropes. Those two will be interesting together. How were things at the restaurant today?”

“That’s great! I know with your Dad, and Bobby cutting back their time there you wanted at least one more person in. Work was fine, late lunch and steady afternoon which is why I’m later getting home.”

“How’s the foot doing? You’ve been on it more with working longer hours lately.”

“Okay, as good as it’s going to be for now.”

You two enjoyed a quiet dinner, then curled up on the couch to watch a movie before heading to bed. Dean noticed you didn’t eat much of your dinner, but he figured you were either tired or grabbed a snack at the restaurant.

Your next morning started off about the same both of you on your separate ways to work. It was afternoon when Donna saw you again with a grimace on your face and a hand on your side. A little while later she saw your running to the restroom where you threw up.

“Alright, spill Y/N. What is going on, you’ve been a little off lately?”

“Donna, I’m fine.”

“Bull, lady. Do I need to call Dean and ask him?”

“NO!” Your head went back, and your eyes closed as you thought about what you were going to say. You went with the truth, maybe she would tell you what you were hoping, it was nothing. “I’ve been having a sharp pain in my right side, sometimes it moves to the front and is in my abdomen. Every once in while it might go lower. It’s probably just a sore muscle or maybe the ulcer is coming back”

“And the upset stomach?”

“That’s new-ish. This is nothing, I’m fine. It can’t be anything.” You almost whispered.

“You should probably talk to your Dr. Maybe your OB first, given your history. That’s what your worried about right?”

With tears in your eyes you gave a soft yes.

“Call them, and then talk to Dean. Knowing you, you haven’t said anything to him, and were going to keep pretending nothing was happening.”

You walked away to call for an appointment. Donna was right, you were scared, and you hadn’t told Dean. You didn’t want to go through this again. Around year and half ago you were at a girls day out when you just didn’t feel right. You attributed it to worry you had about something at work. It didn’t go away and over the next two weeks things got worse. You weren’t hungry, you had a sharp pain in your side, had started burping and not been able to stop it. That one bothered you the most. Then you started getting sick. Overall, you just didn’t feel well. You figured it was early February now, you just had a good old-fashioned winter cold. When you suddenly had trouble drawing a deep breath and it hurt to breathe, you had gone to a walk-in-clinic. They thought it was your appendix or gallbladder and sent you to your primary Doctor the next day. They agreed and sent you to a CT Scan the next day. Dean went with that morning and waited while you went back for the test. You were told your doctor would have to results in a few days while they were getting the test started. When they finished the scan, they told you to stay on the table they had a radiologist coming to read the scan right then. That hadn’t done much for your nerves. They told you something about a mass on your ovary and kids still being possible, but you needed to see your OB asap. You had walked back out to Dean in the waiting room in shock, not 100% sure what had happened in the last few minutes. You had ended up having a cyst on an ovary, which had destroyed that ovary and continued to grow into what your doctor called a giant mass. It had gotten so big it was pushing on your other organs. They had to go in and take it out. You were getting to the point you were okay with that part, but the doctor kept talking, and you kept squeezing Dean’s hand harder. They couldn’t see the uterus around the mass and didn’t know if it had damage or the other ovary, and there was a possibility it was cancerous. Suddenly the kids you and Dean had been talking about and picturing, might only ever be that, talk. You had been a wreck the morning of surgery, but Dean was in pre-op with you as long as he could be holding your hand telling you everything was going to be fine. It didn’t matter what happened with the surgery. If it was just the two of you, or if you ended up adopting. You were in this together. He loved you and the two of you would be just fine. The surgery had gone well. They only had to take the mass out and the tests came back cancer free.

Things between you and Dean were good. The last year and half had been crazy, no kids yet, although that wasn’t due to lack of trying in the beginning. The December after your surgery you had ended up with a stomach ulcer and they found a fibroid on your uterus. You really couldn’t catch a break. Your doctor had wanted to put you on birth control to slow down the growth for now. Here you were, once again worried that you wouldn’t be able to give Dean the baby you knew he wanted. His brother Sam, and his wife Jess had had their first child a few months prior and Dean was the loving uncle. Holding little Jake, he could calm him down faster than anyone but Jess. He spent a bit of time telling him all about Baby, and the things he would teach him when he was older. You were fairly certain he might get that boy in trouble with a few things, but that could be dealt with in a few years. You knew Dean was hoping for the day he would be holding his own baby, and teaching them, you were afraid you were never going to be able to give him that.

You were sitting on the couch when Dean came home from work.

“Hey Sweetheart, how was your day?”

“Fine, how were things at the shop?”

“Good, busy. Dinner smells great.”

“Thanks, it’s got about a half hour till it’s done. I know you want to shower, but can I talk to you first?”

“Always.”

Dean joined you on the couch as you started explaining. “So I’ve been feeling kind of off lately, not quite right. Pain in my side and abdomen. The last few days throwing up if I ate and drank much. It’s a bit like before.”

Dean moved closer and held you as he asked, “Are you thinking you have another mass, the fibroid, or something else?”

“I don’t know, and that scares me. I want it to be nothing, but we both know my luck isn’t that good. I have an appointment next Wednesday with my OB/GYN. I figured it would cut some of the middle wait time out.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“Thanks, but I think I will be ok alone with this first visit.”

“Wait, don’t you have your foot appointment that day?”

“Yes, but it’s in the morning.”

Wednesday your appointments finally arrived. You had been having trouble with your foot for a few years now, it had gotten so bad you couldn’t even wear a tennis shoe anymore. You actually were supposed to have surgery on it a few years ago, the same year you had found the mass and had to have that removed instead. It was a pretty simple appointment; they did updated x-rays since you hadn’t had any in over a year and talked again with the surgeon about what surgery would entail. He was a foot and ankle specialist at the University hospital. This was going to be your third foot/ankle related surgery but the first on your right foot. You had had different doctors each time, and you like this one the best. He was extremely knowledgeable and easy to talk to. You may have been nervous for this surgery, but that was because of everything it was going to involve. You were born with as the doctors called them extremely high arches. It had caused you a number of problems over the years, sprained ankles, multiply breaks, and your two other surgeries. They were going to go in and break your fifth metatarsal and put a plate in there and realign it, cut the Achilles tendon and lengthen it, you had tears in the Peroneal tendon which had to be fixed and then attached to the Brevis tendon to strengthen it, ligaments on the inside and outside of the foot needed to be tightened or loosened depending on the side. You had had all of that done nine years ago on your other foot, but because of problems you had with that first surgery they were taking it a step further. They were going to cut the bones in your heel and realign them. That part was making you the most nervous. You would be spending the 3 months following surgery on crutches, possibly longer. You had spent enough time on them over the years, you were pretty good on them at least. You had been planning on the surgery happening in January, you couldn’t put it off any longer.

The worst part of all this has been the not knowing because your mind is great at making up worst case scenarios, you were a bit worked up for your afternoon OB appointment. You and your doctor talked and going over your symptoms he was sending you for a CT scan the following week because he thought you might have a kidney stone based on some of your symptoms. He also ordered an ultrasound to check on the fibroid. They don’t do anything with fibroids until they are over 4 cm and causing problems. When yours was found it was at 3.3 cm, so they had just put you on birth control. The doctor talked about what could happen if it was the fibroid. You might need surgery to remove it, if it was to big, they might have to take the uterus out or there were shots out that put you in menopause for a while. You were due back in his office in two and half weeks to go over the tests. More waiting, just great.

Dean had dinner waiting for you when you got home. You explained the tests the doctor wanted and what he told you he was thinking. You never thought you would be in a spot where kidney stones were an option you were hoping for. You two spent the evening on the couch watching movies compromising on your choices. Since Halloween was coming soon Dean wanted a horror movie, you agreed if you watched that one first and ended your night with The Proposal. That way your mind wasn’t on a horror movie just before bed.

The next week went fairly quickly and your tests were done you were just waiting on follow up. You and Dean both busy at work during the days. You had lost a manager, you mom had been taking on a lot of caterings which kept her out of the store, and Donna couldn’t pick up more hours because she was taking care of her sister, Jody’s daughters at night. All this meant you were working open to close three to four days a week and at least 8 hours the other days. You would get home at night and not want to move from your couch. Friday morning you were doing your prep work when you received a call from your doctor’s office. They had both of your results in. They didn’t find kidney stones; the fibroid had doubled in size and there was a mass on your remaining ovary. Your follow-up appointment with them was 10 days away, but they wanted to see you as soon as you could come in the next day they were open, which was Tuesday. The last surgery you needed was like that, everything done asap. You had found out about the mass and a week later you were in surgery.

You hung up with them and called Dean in tears. Your mind automatically going through worse case scenarios. He did his best to calm you down and tell you everything would be okay. You two were going to be alright. You called your mom when you hung up from Dean and filled her in on your results. Making yourself get back to work.

Being a Friday, you had a busy lunch rush and had a bit of clean up and more prep work to get ready for the dinner rush. You were working in the back when the door buzzer went off notifying you of someone coming in. Donna called you to the front saying a customer needed your help. The first genuine smile you had all day coming to your face as you took in Dean standing there with a bunch of colorful flowers.

“Oh Dean, they’re beautiful! Thank you!”

“Not half as beautiful as you Y/N, how are you holding up sweetheart?”

“I’ve been better. It’s going to be a long weekend waiting to see what he has to say. My mom talked to my cousin who does some work at the hospital, a friend of hers works for an OB/GYN who has been around awhile and is the only one in town who does this surgery robotically. I have an appointment with him next week also for his opinion.”

“It’s all going to work out, no matter what it’s you and me together. I have to get back to work and I know you do to, I just wanted to stop in and see how you were doing.”

“Thank you, Baby, I appreciate it so much. I love you.”

“Love you too Sweetheart. I will see you at home tonight”

When you weren’t at work, you and Dean hung out at home over the weekend. He did his best to take his mind off of your upcoming appointment. You greatly appreciated his effort. Before you knew it, Tuesday afternoon rolled around. This time dean accompanied you to the appointment. The doctor explained that the fibroid was now at 6.7cm and was what was causing your problems. He was really pushing these shots you take once a month that put you in menopause for six months. He told you that it would shrink the fibroid, and that would be best to start with. The other options he was giving you were waiting and getting another ultrasound end of December/early January and coming back then or go in and do surgery sometime. You weren’t sure how you felt about either of those options but were glad he wasn’t going in right away to take out the uterus. What did frustrate you the most, was how the call on Friday made it sound like things were worse and you needed to come in asap for something to be done, and the doctor wasn’t doing anything right now.

You and Dean both felt a little calmer when you left the office. “What are you thinking about your options, Darling?”

“Honestly, I’m not so sure about those shots, I would need a lot more information on them first. The whole being put into menopause has me nervous. That’s not something I ever thought I would be thinking about at 31. When I talked to the nurse on the phone Friday she made this seem so much worse, and he’s not doing anything other than the shots now. I guess we’ll see what the other doctor says tomorrow.”

The next morning you and Dean were at the other doctor’s office. New patient paperwork all filled out and you were waiting to go back. Your cousin’s friend called your name and took you back. She had been talking to your mom, so she knew what was going on and had shared it with the doctor. You asked her opinion on the shots, and she just shook her head. She told you there wasn’t any guarantee it would even work, and there was a lot of risk with what going into menopause could do to you and your chance of having a child. You would have to sign a number of documents that said you didn’t hold that company responsible for any of the large number of side effects.

“I wasn’t sold on them before, I’m really not know” you told her and Dean.

The doctor came in shortly after and did quick exam. You had asked his opinion on what to do, he said taking it out would be the best thing to try and preserve the uterus and a chance for you to have children in the future. Yes, you could have a child with a fibroid on the uterus, but as big as it was it could cause problems. It didn’t end up being a long appointment because he was called away for a birth. He did order 2 tests and you set those up before leaving. One was another ultrasound to check where the fibroid was and if that would cause any problems itself. The other was to check the uterus for any cancer spots, they did warn you that one could be painful, and you weren’t going to want to do much after the test was done. You had those both scheduled for the following Tuesday and Wednesday.

As you walked out to your cars you asked Dean “What did you think of him, and everything said?”

“They are both pretty against the shots, and I know you didn’t really like the idea of them either. You cousin said he has more experience, right?”

“Yes, he does. I’ve talked to a few others that know him, and they all like him. Donna’s aunt was an OB and she referred patients to him if it was something she couldn’t do.”

“Ultimately Y/N, it comes down to what you think, and what you want to do. We can talk more at home on your thoughts and see what these tests say. I will support your decision no matter what.”

“Thank you, Babe. I love you. Have a great day at work.”

“I love you too. I hope you have a great one as well.”

You were talking to Donna at work about everything that you had found out. She had spent a little time working in her aunt’s office and at one point had been premed in school, you valued her opinion.

“You need to get it taken out girly, it’s already grown a lot on you. I know how much you and Dean want kids. If you wait too long you run the risk of losing that chance.”

“Part of me knows that, but the other part of me is worried about what is going to happen during surgery.”

“That’s understandable, any surgery there is a risk. This doctor has done thousands of these, you’ll be fine, most importantly you’ll be better. Don’t ignore this, Dean and you can adopt if you can’t have kids, Dean won’t be fine if he loses you. Don’t do those shots, there is a lot of risk with those, and you could run into even more problems.”

“Those shots are pretty much off the table, I really don’t like the idea of them. I know your right, a part of me just really doesn’t want more surgery. The last week the pain has gotten worse so I don’t know that I can put this off.”

“I know Sweetie, surgery makes anyone nervous. This will all work out.”

“Thanks, Donna, you are an amazing friend.”

After dinner that night you and Dean were sitting in the living room and you decided you weren’t going to think about any medical issues. While he had the game on you grabbed your computer and recipe binder. Settling next to Dean on the couch you pulled up Pinterest and Christmas recipe ideas. You had been scrolling for a few minutes when Dean looked over at your screen.

“What are you looking up Christmas for?”

“Mom and Dad’s Christmas party is a month from tomorrow, and I need to get my baking list around.”

“What do you mean a month away, that’s before Thanksgiving?”

“With Thanksgiving being so late this year, they are doing it the Saturday before. That way it has less chance running into other Holiday parties. You don’t want to do it Thanksgiving weekend, and then there are only three other weekends before Christmas and there will be a bit going on. So I need to figure out what’s on my baking list this year, what’s staying, what I’m adding.”

“It’s too early to talk Christmas.”

“Hallmark starts Christmas movies this weekend, Saturday has some of my favorites we can watch after work!”

“It’s not even Halloween Y/N, I’m not watching Christmas movies!” Dean threw his head back against the couch turning slightly to glare at you.

“You say that now, we’ll see what happens when I get that remote,” you smirked. “I could happily watch them year-round.”

“Ehh, your getting better with that. You used to be into Christmas songs and movies 361, the couple days leading up to Christmas Eve and sometimes that morning you were a little bah humbug saying you were done with all of it. Then the day after Christmas you start singing Frosty again.”

You just glared at him for a minute, “It was the stress, and trying to get everything just right and make everyone happy. My shopping will be done, before 2 days before Christmas this year. I’m going to enjoy it, no stress.”

“Sure thing, Sweetheart, whatever you say. We’ll see how you are on December 23rd.”

“Going back to the Holiday of the month we are actually in, Sam wanted to know if we wanted to come over Thursday night. See Jake in his first Halloween costume, hand out candy to the Trick-or-Treaters. Mom and dad are going to be there too.”

“Sure I’m in. It’s usually a busy night for us so I will be over after I can leave work.”

“Okay so we have my usual baking items: Sugar cookies I think I’m going to keep it simple and just do drop cookies instead of cut outs, buckeyes, peanut butter blossoms, no bakes, petit-fours, truffles, cranberry bars and the varieties of chocolates those I’ll make with mom. Now I need to figure out some new ones. Hey what do you think about, hey, where are you going?”

“I need a beer if we are going to talk about your crazy Christmas baking list.”

You waited for Dean to settle back next to you to show him your finds.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042596801/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042596805/

“You’re on a Grinch kick this year aren’t you? You mentioned a few weeks ago you wanted a Grinch sweatshirt this year.”

“Maybe, part of me is. Anyways thoughts? What about these?” https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923042556919/

“Ooohhhh, Do you think I could make these?” https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“We aren’t going to be using our kitchen to make actual food anytime soon are we? I love you and you are very talented when it comes to your baking but I don’t know if you have the patience for those cupcakes.”

“You’re probably right, it does tend to run thinner when I’m trying to get all this stuff done. Look on the bright side, the party is early this year so I will have the kitchen back to normal sooner.”

“Sureee you will.”

You weren’t going to admit it to Dean right now, but you were trying to force yourself into the Holiday spirit. With everything going on you weren’t sure you were going to be in the celebrating mood this year. You knew how much he loved the Holiday, and the time with family together. You would put on a happy face for him.

Dean took you to your appointment Tuesday afternoon, because they didn’t recommend driving after since you were going to be in a bit of pain. It wasn’t even a five minute test to go take a swab of the uterus lining to send in to check for abnormal or cancer cells. They were right though, you definitely hurt after. You and Dean picked up food on the way home so neither of you would have to cook or clean up. He got you situated on the couch with a heating pad after you got home. You two spent another quiet night in. The next afternoon you took yourself to your ultrasound. The results for both tests would be back in time for your appointment the following Tuesday.

Thursday was Halloween, and you were short handed at work again, but not as busy as you were expecting to be. You left around 7 and headed over to Sam and Jess’ house. 5-month-old Jake was dressed up in a cute duck onesie. After saying hi to the couple, your husband, and his parents you grabbed some food and settled down with Jake. You were told you just missed Cas, his wife Kelly, and their son Jack. The one year old getting cranky and ready for bed. Jess and Mary joined you shortly. The guys were watching one of the All Saint’s Day movies. Apparently having a little one to get excited about put Sam in a better Halloween mood then he usually was in. Mary asked how you were doing; Dean had apparently told her a few days before and Jess had just found out tonight.

“I’m alright, it’s been going on over a month and I think at this point I want a plan. I want to know what’s going to happen. But I want to make sure that we decide on the right course of action too.”

Both ladies assured you they thought you would be fine, and that everything would work out for you. Your attention turning to the little boy on the floor in front of you.

You spent your weekend working and had started some grocery shopping for you baking supplies. Those supplies then found a home on your kitchen counter. So Dean was right, he was slowing losing the kitchen for a little while.

Tuesday afternoon saw you and Dean back in your new doctor’s office waiting to be called back. It wasn’t a long wait and you headed back. Thankful your tests had come back normal and the new ultrasound didn’t show any new problems. Because of the last surgery you had there was to much scar tissue in your abdomen for the surgery to be done robotically, and the fibroid was too big. You did have the option for another procedure, he described it as resetting your uterus. He did tell you it wouldn’t do anything for the fibroid, but it could get your periods back under control and might lesson some pain, you would need a few days off work. The best chance you had if you wanted to get pregnant sometime was to have the fibroid removed. Now you just needed to make a decision on what you were going to do. You were leaning toward surgery and when you didn’t make a definitive decision the doctor told you to come back in 2 weeks. When you were checking out and scheduling the next appointment you asked how far out the wait for surgery was. His calendar was filling up and he only had December 9th and 23rd open.

On your way home you and Dean talked about what you both were thinking. You told him you were leaning toward surgery, and he also thought that would be your best choice. Now you just weren’t sure you really wanted to wait. If you called your first doctor, he could do the surgery in two weeks, he just had to wait for insurance purposes. Honestly, he was never busy. That put you the day before your parents Christmas party or waiting till the next weekend which was the day after Thanksgiving. Another problem you had was making sure you had help at work. Right now, you didn’t have the help to do it. If you pushed it too far into December it was going to be a problem with your foot surgery. They had said with your stomach because they were cutting it open you would need to be careful not to tear your stitches for a few weeks and be limited for 6 weeks with what you could do. Crutches weren’t going to be a good thing to mix in.

Your parents, you and Dean all talked. You didn’t have the help to do the surgery in November, December wasn’t a good idea because of your next surgery. You decided if the doctor thought you could wait you would do the foot surgery in January and then six weeks later when you should be able to start putting some pressure on your foot you would have the other. That way the six weeks you needed to be careful with the second surgery would be ending in time for therapy in May. Work was going to be getting better help wise because you were selling on of your locations. The gas station next door to one of them wanted to expand and the only way they could was if they bought your property. That deal was supposed to close first of January. Your foot surgery was scheduled for the 16th. Things seemed to fall in to place for that all to work out.

You still weren’t feeling the best, but you were glad to have noticed you didn’t have the pain in your side and stomach every day anymore. It had turned into just having really bad periods every few weeks.

When you went to your appointment two weeks later you went alone and talked to the doctor about your thoughts and timeline. He didn’t think that would be a problem, telling you before he left that removing it was your best option. They weren’t’ scheduling yet for February or March so they would call you when those books opened.

If you were honest, you were feeling better with what you had decided on. Also, the fact that no one was worried enough to say you had to get in right now for surgery. You were still going to worry between now and surgery it was just who you were.

It was the third week of November, your new focus on the upcoming Holidays. You had already started your baking, freezing everything once it was made cooled and put in an airtight container. The list was still shorter this year it only had about 15 things on it. You didn’t get the Grinch recipes made, or the snow globe cupcakes, but you did make the thumb print snowmen. Next year. Two days before the party you moved on from baking to getting the food you were doing around. In between all this also trying to help your mom decorate their house and putting decorations up at yours. You didn’t end up doing as much to your house as you usually would, but just less to take down after and you knew things would be crazy then.

The day of the party both you and your mom ended up being stuck at work longer than you were supposed to be. This meant you had to work quicker when you got home. Dean went to your parents with you to help with the last minute set up. It was nice living on the same street as them, so you didn’t have far to go. With the final cleaning finished you were in the kitchen with Dean starting to get food around while your mom ran upstairs to shower. Your brother and his girlfriend coming shortly after. They had been dating for almost a year, but she didn’t come around much, so you didn’t know her well. Trying to ask her questions about herself didn’t get you very far because she only gave one-word answers. You looked to Dean and he just shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how to get much out of her either. When your mom came back down, and the food was in good shape you and dean went home to get ready and get the desserts.

You always enjoyed this party it was family from both of your parent’s sides, Dean’s family started coming when you two were dating. A variety of your parent’s friends along with your brother’s and yours. You were surprised to see more cars in the driveway when you returned. Cas, Benny and Kelly were in the kitchen talking to your dad and brother, along with one of his old friends from school. It didn’t take long for the house to fill up with people and the sounds of laughter. It was close to one by the time you and Dean went home after helping to clean up. You were beat and ready to fall into bed, Dean not far behind.

The restaurant you were selling, was the store you spent every day at, it had been your baby over the last 8 years. Since you were going to be closing it soon you had cut back on the Sunday hours which meant you and Dean could enjoy a lazy morning after the party. It was nice not to get up and go, you had missed the relaxing mornings you two used to enjoy. When you finally dragged yourselves from bed it was to the kitchen to make a late breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast. You would have to head in to work after lunch, but that didn’t mean you had to be in a hurry to get ready. After cleaning up the kitchen Dean dragged you back to the bedroom where you spent a little more time catching up.

That week was Thanksgiving which meant a shorter work week for you both. Thursday morning started off much like Sunday’s had, although you both had to be out the door by noon and have your food and deserts ready. A late lunch with your family at your grandmother’s house was first. The Y/L/N could be a rowdy group, so it was usually a good time as long as you could avoid any family arguments. After cleaning up there you would head to Dean’s parents where they had an early dinner. You tried not to eat too much at either place for two reasons, one you wanted to be able to move later and two you were trying to avoid being sick. It didn’t hit you as much as before, but you never knew when it would. After the guys collapsed in front of the football game on tv, Mary and Jess hit the adds. You left to go pick up your mom. The last two years you to had done some Thursday evening shopping because you both worked on Friday, and it gave you time just he two of you. You hit the mall and a few stores trying to start on your shopping list. You meant it when you told Dean that everything was going to be done early this year. You were going to enjoy the Holiday season. When you finished you dropped her back at home before going back to your in-laws. A short time later you and Dean headed home.

Much like it does every year December flies by. You hadn’t finished your shopping as early as you wanted, but you weren’t as stressed about it this year. You enjoyed nights with Dean curled up on the couch. You had seen the Grinch more times than you could count this year, I guess you were having a Grinchy year. Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was here. Both you and Dean worked that morning before meeting your families at church for the 4 o’clock service. You had to go early if you wanted a park, and a seat. It was always so beautifully decorated for Christmas, you enjoyed taking it all in waiting for Mass to start. One of your favorite parts of this service was when Father would call any little kids up that wanted to and ask them questions about the religious aspects of the holiday. Where was Jesus born? Your favorite answer this year was Baltimore. What gifts did the baby receive? Cake and ice cream. The answers they came up with were always a laugh. You hoped you would be sending your own child up there someday.

Everyone headed to your parents’ house after, some other family and friends would be joining you. You had dinner and then played games. As you and your cousins had grown so had the games. Jake was the only child present and he wasn’t old enough to understand what was going on. With all the adults playing it could get a little rowdy especially between Sam and Dean. One of your aunts had done that gifts wrapped in a saran wrap ball and it seemed like only those two could make much progress. So of course, when one of them was trying to unwrap the other would give a little trash talk. You had been feeling a little off and would disappear from the room. When the ball was unwrapped, and Dean saw you left again he came to find you. He found you sitting on the steps just outside your parents’ upstairs bathroom.

“Everything all right, Sweetheart?”

“Not really, my stomach is hurting me a bit and if I try to eat or drink I’m running to the restroom because it’s going to make a reappearance.”

“Anything I can do to make it better?”

“Thank you, but no I just need to tough it out.”

“Soon Y/N this is all going to be behind you honey.”

“I cannot wait.”

He held you close as you both sat on the steps for a few minutes softly kissing the top of your head. When you rejoined your family, they were on to a different game. The two of you hanging back to watch. When the time came to leave you were more than ready to head home just so Dean could hold you in bed. You fell into a fitful sleep that night, not feeling all that much better when you awoke.

The two of you were spending the morning at your mom and dad’s and then going to John and Mary’s in the afternoon. Your dad’s mom and siblings joined you for breakfast and afterwards you exchanged gifts. Luckily, you only had to leave the room once. Dean knew you weren’t feeling well so the two of you left shortly after to go home before heading to his parent’s house. When you arrived, you headed to the kitchen to help Mary. The two of you got along really well, you often considered yourself luck in that way. A few of your friends didn’t have the best relationship with their in-laws. By the time Sam and Jess arrived dinner was ready, and you all gathered round the table to enjoy. It was a great night spent with them.

The end of December was quickly approaching, and you hadn’t heard anything from the company buying your story, communication had just stopped. After you talked to your dad, he started making phone calls to the company again to see what was going on. Their plans for the property and been pushed back a few months so they were no longer in a hurry to close. You ended up pushing your foot surgery back there weeks till the 6th of February. Your dad finally got a date out of them you were closing on Monday the 3rd of February, that would also be the last day open. You would spend the next two days moving everything out. The New Year wasn’t even here yet and you knew it was going to be going fast.

Things were going to get busy for you in January, so you and Dean decided you just wanted a quiet night in for New Year’s. At the store you picked up a bottle of Sparkling Cider to toast with, neither one of you big Champagne drinkers, along with a few different appetizers to make. The evening was spent curled up on the couch watching movies, until you switched over to watch the ball drop. Sharing a sweet kiss with Dean when midnight arrived. This was going to be your year. The surgeries would be done soon, you and Dean could move on with the rest of your lives, it was all going to work out and be fine.

You had been right when you told Dean January would be crazy. You spent the month working on cleaning out things at work. The office took a bit of time, dividing up what was going home and what you were sending to your new office. Cleaning out things you didn’t use any more, what you were selling and what was moving to the other location. On top of all that you were trying to keep a relatively clean house and not let everything there fall on Dean’s shoulders. Everyday it seemed like a little bit more left the store and the shelves were slowly becoming bare.

Sunday through Wednesday of closing week was going to be extremely chaotic for you all, so you wanted things at home that needed to be done before surgery finished by Saturday. You cleaned the house top to bottom, rearranged the living room furniture so it would be easier to navigate on crutches, got the crutches ready, finished laundry and tried to stock up on non-perishable groceries so Dean wouldn’t have to go out as much.

The last two days you were open were particularly emotional for you. This location had been your baby and second home for the last 8 years, you had helped with the cleaning, gutting, and remodeling of the building when you bought it. Everything was set up just how you wanted it. When you went back to work in a few months at the other location it was going to be vastly different. Sitting at the closing you were trying to hold back the tears as you signed the papers, part of you wished Dean was there to give you some of his strength but he had to be at the shop that day since he was taking the next 3 days off. Leaving the closing you went to work to open for the last time. That day was extremely busy for your and Donna so many of your loyal customers coming in one last time. Dean came in for a late lunch giving you a much-needed hug, he left after promising to be back before closing. Dean along with your parents came back before closing helping you to clean up and finish making orders. When you turned the open sign off one last time Dean pulled you into his arms and held you while you cried.

“It’s okay Sweetheart. It’s the start of a new chapter, you have a lot of memories to take with you.”

“Thanks, Dean. I know, I just hate goodbyes, and change.”

“I know you do, but it’s a good one. Keep telling yourself that. Closing this story is going to help greatly relieve some stress.”

“You’re right, Babe.”

“Hey! I’m always right. We should probably head home; we have an early busy day tomorrow.”

It was six am when you and Dean pulled back into the parking lot the next day. You had wanted a few minutes without the others around to take care of some of your stuff. By 6:30 someone was there to disconnect the water lines so the pop dispenser and ice machine could be moved. Your parents arrived at 7 and you started loading both of their trucks and the trailer with items going to the other store. Sam arrived and went with Dean in one of the trucks following your mom to go unload. Electricians, and others arrived to get the oven and its components unhooked. You had gone around the day before and put a note on everything stating where it was going, whether the other store, your or your parents’ house for storage, staying in the building or going somewhere and you just didn’t know where yet. The movers were the last to arrive taking some of the bigger equipment for you, this way you guys didn’t have to figure out how to get it on and off a trailer. Dean and Sam arrived back to help load the truck and your SUV. At one-point Dean took one of the “going somewhere” notes and tapped it to your back. It was awhile and two stops later before anyone told you. It was 6 o’clock that night when you put the last load in your car to leave for the day, heading home to unload one more time. By the time it was unloaded your foot hurt so bad you could barely walk, both you and Dean collapsing on the couch not moving till you went to bed.

The next day you had a few more things to get out of the store and had to meet the pop company to pick up their equipment since they couldn’t come the previous day. You left the store that afternoon for the final time. Your OB and scheduled one last ultrasound you had to run and get that done, thankfully the fibroid had not changed from your last one in December. One more grocery store run to stock up for a bit, then home to vacuum and make sure you were all packed for the hospital.

Both your mom and Dean were going with you for surgery, but Dean had an early morning meeting the next day he couldn’t reschedule so your mom was staying the night in the hospital and bringing you home the next day. It was an hour drive and you had to be there at 6:30 for an 8:30 surgery. You went through all your pre-op things and your mom and Dean joined you back there waiting for you to go. Several people were in and out of your little curtain room, the surgeon, anesthesiologist, nurses, and med students. It was finally time to wheel you back after getting one last hug and kiss from Dean and him telling you everything would be fine. A few hours later you woke up in recovery which is where you saw Dean and your mom again. It is also where you found out they didn’t have a room for you, and you were staying in a short-term patient ward. It was almost like a pre-op room, one giant room with 15 curtained off rooms. Actually, the pre-op room was bigger. There was a bed a chair and one of the old hospital TVs that moved. The back of your foot where they did the heal work was bleeding through your after surgery splint and they said it would take a few hours to stop so they propped it up and told you, you couldn’t get out of bed. It only took a few hours for you to be tired of sitting in one spot, as someone who spent all day on her feet this was a struggle. Sleeping in a hospital had never come easy for you with your previous surgeries and adding all the extra noise with so many people around that wasn’t happening either. It was later in the afternoon when you told Dean he should go.

“Babe, you might as well head home, you have an hour drive and there isn’t anything you can do here. Plus, there really isn’t any room in here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave if you need me.”

“We will be fine, I’m not moving, and mom will be here if I need something. Go home get some rest it’s been a long week. I love you I’ll see you at home tomorrow.”

“Love you too, I’ll call you later. Take care Sweetheart. Y/M/N, call me if you need something or anything.” He gave you a kiss and hugged your mom before leaving.

The rest of the evening and night dragged on, when you finally fell asleep that night you woke up almost every half and hour. The nurses were in every hour, and around 2am one of the other patients started screaming because he pulled something out he shouldn’t have. By 5 am you gave up on sleep. One of the doctors came in later in the morning to wrap another layer of gauze around your splint to cover up the blood, and by noon they let you go home.

The next two weeks went fairly quickly, Dean made a good nurse when he was home at night getting you whatever you needed so you didn’t have to get up or try and carry anything while using the crutches. You had practiced on the crutches before surgery, but it is still a little different when you have to be using them. As your family knew well, you were also accident prone and managed to slip and slam your foot down a handful of times. Both your parents, and his would stop over during the day to see if you needed anything or to bring you lunch. The stitches and staples came out at the two-week mark, that wasn’t a fun experience you had never had it hurt as much as it did this time. The doctor wasn’t putting you in a cast, he was going to let you leave in a boot which you would be able to take off if you were sitting with it up or to shower. Thank you for small miracles! The next appointment was four weeks away, the Friday before your Monday surgery.

The next month went fine for you, just very long. You were still stuck at home so things did get a bit boring, a number of new games could be found on your phone and you found a website with fanfiction from your favorite show you started reading. While fine for you, things were going nuts in the outside world, something called Covid-19 was making a lot of people extremely sick, overseas countries shut down and in the U.S., many states were doing the same thing. Your follow up appointment was cancelled and moved to a video chat, then days before it was scheduled your next surgery was cancelled. Stay at home orders were put in place and masks were required for those who had to leave the house.

It was definitely a crazy time and it went on for a few months. 6 weeks after you last video appointment, during the first full week of May, you had another and this one sent you to therapy if you could find someone open. You could also lose the boot and work on losing the crutches. The place you had gone for past surgeries was open and you started back there. This surgery was the hardest time you had to start walking again. There was a bit of pain if your heel hit the ground, so you couldn’t completely get rid of the crutches like you wanted to. The therapist you were working with said with the type of surgery done to your heel, the pain you had with it would determine what you could do and how fast you would get there.

You got a call from your OB’s office, they were given the clear to start surgeries again and yours was scheduled for June 1st, which was two weeks away. You had had a few problems over the last couple of months and just hoped nothing had changed and they would be able to just go in and take the fibroid out no problem. The closer the date got the more worried you became. Dean tried to tell you everything was going to be fine, and not to worry, but you aren’t the best listener. Because of things going on with Covid, you needed to be home the week before surgery as much as possible only going to therapy twice and the grocery store once early in the week to get a few things you wanted. For the last three months Dean had done the shopping, and you were thankful, but there were a few things you wanted to get yourself. Saturday you were going to have to get a Covid test and then had to self-isolate until you left for the hospital on Monday morning. The hardest part of that was going to be sleeping in a different room from Dean, you were even supposed to wear a mask when he was in the same room as you. You had spent the week before rearranging the living room again, then cleaning the house best you could as you hobbled around. Friday night you spent the evening with Dean curled up in your spots on the couch. The closer you got to surgery the more nervous you became.

“Sweetheart, everything is going to go just fine. There is nothing for you to worry about, and no matter how much you worry it isn’t going to change anything.”

“I know, I’m just, I can’t help it. You know how my mind works I’m great at going to the worse case possible. I’ve always wanted kids, and I know you did too, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to give that to you.”

“Hey, it’s you and me no matter what happens. If we can have kids one day awesome, if not we will look into adopting. What’s not changing is you and me, we are in this together, always.”

“I love you. Thanks for being so amazing, especially during these last crazy months when I couldn’t do much on my own.”

“I love you, too. That’s what I’m here for, you would do the same thing for me. You always take care of me when I’m sick. I will always be here for you.”

“I will always be here for you too.”

Saturday morning you did a few more things around the house before giving Dean a kiss and leaving for your test. It went fairly quick your doctor’s office scheduled you an appointment and you preregistered. You headed home to work on laundry and make sure you bag was packed. That evening you and Dean were watching movies in the living room, although unlike usual you weren’t sitting together on the couch. Sunday was a warm sunny day, so you enjoyed it outside. Monday morning Dean took you to the hospital, you went through check in and then through the routine in pre-op. Just before they took you back you snuck in a quick hug and kiss from Dean.

“I love you, Baby, everything is going to be just fine. I will talk to you after surgery.”

“I love you too, thank you for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. We are in this together. Love you Sweetheart.”

Dean was able to stay at the hospital during surgery, but he had to leave after. They weren’t allowing visitors into the hospital, so you were going to be on your own in the hospital for the next three days. Dean headed to the waiting room and they came to wheel you back to surgery. Well, here goes nothing.

Part 2

#dean x reader #sick reader #Supernatural #dean winchester

120 notes · View notes

sinnerburrito · 3 years ago

Text

Jeremy's Companion Dialogue

It could have more stuff but i think it's big enough already.

- Can you tell me about yourself?

If you are up to listen the three hour long narrative of how I bravely explore the wasteland, sure why not?

I'm a courier, just like you, minus the whole "shot in the head" ordeal, used to be a prostitute too, a very good one, now I just deliver packages, read fortunes, steal, ya know, the usual.

- Fortunes?

Call it what you want, magic, lucky, madness. I know and see things... sometimes.

- And what do you see? (Answer differs based on karma/ affiliation)

You're a odd one, the cards you have is always shifting, but right now I see ...

Independent: a bright light smiles to you, thousands of wheels will guide you to freedom out a hill. The Bull don't know what's under its roves.

Legion: Blood paint the crosses, be careful with the fox, 83 is a large number and the man in gold will be not be followed.

NCR: Old laws of the old world has no place here, Shady, Sands, everything is corrupted. To others live some has to die.

MR. House: An delayed delivery, seven went and six came back, are you ready to bet all your caps in a platinum dream?

- Uh... Prostitute?

Look we all did things we are not proud of. It kept me alive and I'm thankful for that, but I'm out of this business.

-(Confirmed Bachelor) Maybe I can change your mind?

Maybe. But i think it would cost you 100 caps to try.

- Nice Tattoo.

Hey thanks. Is a family thing. And it actually goes around my body so if you're nice, I might show you one day.

-What's your thoughts on the Legion?

You're really asking me that? For real?

Okay I'll let that pass cause you got shot in the head but I'm a tribal and then a Legion slave some years ago. What the fuck you think it's my opinion.

-You don't look like a tribal.

Can't blame you. I only dance wearing my feathered headdress with paint in my body in very special occasions.

-Whats your thoughts on the BoS?

Same as the Legion, but not that bad.

I say i wouldn't beat the living shit of a Brotherhood member if they stood in a 1km radius near me.

- What's your thoughts on the White Glove Society?

They have quiet a....refined taste. Just stay away from them, trust me, better not try our luck to see if the rumors are true.

I know them seem polite but don't get fooled, I'm a fool myself and even I can can see what's up.

-What's your thoughts on the Omertas?

Oh, I'm going to be honest with you, they have a special place on my heart, there's not a single day I don't think about them what they did and keep doing.

I don't think they're a suitable sacrifice but this won't stop me to throwing every and single one of them into The Pit.

- Looks like you have something personal against them.

Is that obvious? Well, I do, and no, I won't elaborate.

- What's your thoughts on Mr. House?

Dude's a mineral and somehow still kicking everyone in the guts.

He's not so different from the Brotherhood. He only has more power.

- What's your thoughts on The Followers of the Apocalypse?

I'm on the fence about them. They're good but also not, kinda hypocritical if you want me to be honest, I think they sometimes act like everyone else is just poor lost stupid souls.

And for an anarchist group they depends an awfully lot on the NCR.

But you see, I have a talent to break bones, mine specifically, I don't know where I would be without their help. Probably alone in a shallow grave.

Oh fuck, sorry.

- What do you know about Benny?

The guys at The Tops? Head of the Chairman ? Checked train wreck?

A whole fucking lot.

If I could write it would be a hell of a book. He's an asshole as much he's ambitious.A compulsive backstabber too beautiful for his own good.

Don't underestimate him, if he have a plan for that chip of yours: Listen.

After his personal quest is completed

- So the Vipers are your family?

No No, I came out of a egg.

Yeah I guess so, I guess Ma still alive, somehow. I heard I had a sister once, ironically she didn't woke up after the Great Awakening but this was before I born.

My father....I have no idea, he was a missionary, whatever that means, i think he was sacrificed. That's all I know.

And you? Do you remember anything before the shooting?

- Yes/ No/ Just few things.

Well, maybe it's for the best, a opportunity to a fresh start.

- Let's talk about your tatics.

Constructive criticism only.

- Use a ranged weapon.

I was afraid you would say that./ Keep your distance just to be safe.

- Use a melee weapon.

No need to ask twice. / I'm already using? /Stab stab stab.

- Be agressive

Like that ever worked/ Have you noticed I'm not really an intimidating person?/ Like...angry?

- Be passive

For you? Always./ Anything for you, dear. /Oh,l I like your style.

- Wait here.

I'm not responsible for my actions from now on. / Okay I'll wait here...by myself...in this dangerous place. / Don't be long.

- let's trade equipment

These pockets are not just for Aesthetic. / If I find anything interesting I'll keep. / Be my guest.

- Overburdened

Okay, maybe it's better if my pockets just compliments my fashion sense. / Do i look like a damn Brahmin? / I knew you would break me in half but this is ridiculous.

- I would like you to go the Lucky 38.

(If his quest is not completed) The casino? At The Strip? Sorry, but I will wait for you at Freeside wandering aimlessly like a vagabond. / All those lights make me dizzy but okay / will try not steal anything there.

- Why don't go the The Strip?

Why don't you mind your own business? Sorry, it's not your fault. I just want to avoid conflict, that's all.

* In Courier's iron sight*

Do you have a death wish?/There's easier ways to get rid of me, ya know? / Of all the thing you could shove in my face, why the gun?

*Courier lays mine*

Uh...I feel like I should keep my distance./ It's a honor seeing such tatical magnificent working. / Full recovery my ass.

- It's time for us to part ways.

Awn fuck, I'm terrible with goodbyes./ I thought we had a great thing going on./ Okay, I'll go then. All by myself. In the big bad Wasteland.

*Player steals items or pickpocket*

Go, steal from the rich. / I could show you a tricky or two. / Just keep your hands off my stuff.

*Injured*

Have you seen my kidney by any chance? /Is this blood mine or yours? Nevermind. / I don't get paid enough for this.

*Crippled limb*

Quick question, bones are supposed to be inside the body, right? / It's ok, it's ok, I'm not going to cry. Not in front the mailman. / I don't think this sound is a good sign.

*Dying*

*Incomprehensible mumble* / See you in the other side. / Run...

Location

-Goodsprings

So peaceful, you can even hear the cazadores buzzing around./ Do you hear...never mind" (close to the cemitery) / Is it too much to ask to see your shallow grave?

Would you freak out if i told you never really left this grave? (By the Courier's shallow grave)

-The Strip

Can you believe a guy like *him* runs a place called The Tops?/ This place reeks of cheap cologne and bad sex. / Ugh, this lights will give me a migraine.

- Gomorrah ( unlocks completing his quest and let him in charge)

Welcome back! Thirsty? Hungry? Horny? We got you covered. / Hey if it isn't our Or Royal Highness of Vegas / Don't look in the backroom.

(If the player enter former's Clanden's secret filming room, after picking a Very Hard Lock, Claden himself will be tied up to a chair with a camera set up right before him. It's impossible to either free or kill him).

- Gomorrah / The Fort ( unlocks selling him back to The Omertas or to the Legion)

* Yawns* / Next time give me something to work with. / Already? (After the Player has sex with him in the Fort or Gomorrah)

How the hell do you still alive? / Enjoying the view, asshole? / Told you, you never left that grave.

-The Tops

Do i look presentable? / I know why we here, don't kill him, please. / I regret giving Benny that fucking gun.

- Companions

Craig Boone, why I feel a bitter taste whenever he's around?( When Boone is nearby)

Bad knees my ass, I saw him running from a cazador (when Raul is nearby)

How Grandma Lily can stand Leo? Guy's an asshole. (When Lily is nearby)

Think I have any chance? (When Arcade is nearby)

*Hums Heartaches by the Number* ( When Cass is nearby)

Don't you have to steal a child's Pib-Boy or something? (When Veronica is nearby)

#Jeremy #Companion Dialogue Meme #Long Post #fnv

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jetsandbennie · 6 years ago

Text

...and then we had both.

summary: following events of why can’t we have both. you and ben decide to try and make your relationship work.

warnings: smut (18+), dry humping, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, fluff, aaaannnnggggsssstttt

pairing: bodyguard!ben hardy x reader

( gif creds to the amazing @ bens-hardy )

When you wake up the next morning, Ben isn’t next to you. And this is weird because you swear you remember him falling asleep next to you, thrown overtop of him, a thick blanket he brought covering your bodies. But now he’s gone, and when you push yourself up onto your elbows and glance around the room - bright with the shine of the sun, showcasing every bit of dust on every surface - you can’t see him at all.

It’s only a bit panic inducing. After all, he’s your bodyguard and you know he wouldn’t leave, not at all or at the very least without some sort of note.

(And there is no note.)

The blanket falls down to expose your bare chest and the coldness attacks your skin, goosebumps popping up over every inch of exposed flesh, and you drop back onto the couch with a huff, pulling the blanket back up over you. God, the couch is unbearably soft and squishy and while it is undeniably better than the rock of a mattress you’d been on, it certainly isn’t the greatest. Your back aches and your neck burns and you’re still sleepy.

And panic is settling into your mind. There is still the death threat thing and you suppose that’s something to worry about, honestly, and you’d managed to get your mind off of it last night but without Ben here it’s entirely weighing down on you. It almost hurts, those thoughts pressing onto your brain, seeping its way into every one of your veins, and you stare at the ceiling - splattered with dark cracks - and you worry.

You would be rehearsing right now. Preparing for the concert you had to cancel and if that isn’t just a horrible thought in itself.

You hope everyone got their money back.

You hope they all got some free fucking merchandise in return for the emotional stress.

“Ben?” it’s stupid to call out in an empty house - you know this - but if there’s someone in the house and they’ve gotten Ben then they would have taken you out while you were asleep. Besides, there’s nobody in the house, of course, because Ben is strong and he could’ve taken anyone out.

But why doesn’t anyone respond?

“Ben?” you call again, and then you sit up again, hugging the blanket to your chest, and there still isn’t a reply.

Plenty of reasons for why that could be. Maybe he’s showering, even though there’s no water running. Maybe he’s outside on the deck - does this stupid house even have a deck? Maybe he’s asleep in the bedroom.

Maybe hard surfaces are better for his back. You don’t know.

Slowly you stand, clutching the soft blanket to your body. It drops low on you, nearly reaching your ankles, and you’re fairly confident every square inch of your body is safe and secure and covered. God forbid there’s someone in the house, and there isn’t, but you have to be sure.

Perfect. You set off down the hall towards the bedroom, diverting your eyes straight ahead of you, making sure you don’t trip on the entirely too large blanket. You peek into the hallway closet and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom, and they’re all empty.

You turn and make your way back down the hall. Now your heart is beating just the tiniest bit faster and you drag your palm along the wall, feeling the texture beneath your hand, clutching the blanket over your chest. The light fixture on the ceiling flickers pathetically, and it’s - on, and you’re certain all of the lights were on when you went to sleep last night because you almost definitely remember feeling completely content in the darkness. Resting on top of Ben, feeling his skin beneath yours even if you couldn’t see him. You remember that feeling of peace.

The light in the kitchen is on, too.

Fuck.

You press your back against the wall, contemplating what you should even do in this trying time. Because what if you die? What if Ben is lying, dead on the floor? You would never forgive yourself. You hired him, so you would be the reason he died. And that’s too much guilt for you to live with - too much entirely.

Time to be brave.

You push off the wall and turn so you’re staring into the kitchen, arms slackening as you see the sight. Not a murderer at all, thank Christ, but Ben in all his glory - sweatpants low on his hips, headphones firm over his ears, working over the stove. The stove that looks so old you’re surprised it even works, but as Ben scrapes his spatula against the pan you’re thankful it does.

“Are you fucking serious?” you question, watching as Ben turns around, eyebrows furrowed, and then he takes his headphones off. “I called you twice because I thought you were getting murdered, Benny. Come on.” Your eyes land on his headphones again and then the wire attaching them to his phone. “And you have a phone when I wasn’t allowed to.”

“I didn’t hear you, sweetheart,” Ben says, and you narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest the best you can. “And it’s a burner phone. Only good for music, really. I need it.”

“I need my phone, too.”

“No, you don’t.” Ben pauses and when you open your mouth to respond he cuts you off. “We’re going to be here for another five days. And I know it sucks but - I was expecting a couple of weeks.”

Five days. Two shows. It’s fucking horrible. You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Is this a house arrest situation? Or can we do stuff?”

Ben rolls his eyes. You roll them right back. “We can do stuff but it’s best for us to stay here. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either. You’re hardly my first companion of choice in a situation like this.”

Perhaps with anyone else you’d be offended by it, but you could pick up on the teasing glint in Ben’s eyes from miles away. “That’s not the tune you were singing last night, I don’t think.”

“Oh, is that how you want to play this?” Ben takes a step toward you, and you take another to him, staring directly into his eyes. “Because I certainly remember you -”

You don’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and attaching your lips. Desperate and passionate and perfect, and Ben wraps his arms around your waist to steady your body against his. The blanket unceremoniously falls down your body though his chest pressed against yours keeps it briefly held up - when your bodies part for even just a second it falls to a puddle on the ground.

Ben raises his eyebrows, hands squeezing your hips, scanning your body with barely masked surprise. Your body is cold but with his gaze you feel nearly warmed up and you give him a small twirl, showcasing the entirety of your nakedness to him. Watching his expression morph is wonderfully enjoyable and you stop in front of him, bracing your palms on his chest and gazing up at him with eyes - soft. Soft and sweet. Resembling some sort of feeling that others may define as love but you’re not sure how much you believe in that shit.

“Where are your clothes?” he questions, voice low, and a chill runs up your spine at his tone.

“I was too scared to change.”

“Ah.”

Ben’s hands trail down your hips to the backs of your thighs, and you lean up again to kiss him. “Benny,” you begin, voice sultry sweet. “We have four days here.”

“Five.”

“Whatever. How much do you want to bet that we can taint every square inch of this shitty little house?”

His lips turn up into a grin, fingers running through the ends of your entirely too messy curls. “$200, but I already know I’m going to owe it to you.”

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Sure enough, when you leave in five days’ time, there’s hardly a surface the pair of you haven’t fucked on.

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Getting back into the groove of touring is something you love. Five days away from it wasn’t that much but it felt like an eternity even if you spent it with Ben, and now you have a limp, and you spend the majority of your days rehearsing and performing and taking pictures with fans in the moments you get to go out.

And something has already changed with Ben. You’d be lying if you said your relationship has returned to the brutal state it once was but it certainly isn’t as - sweet - as when you two were in the safehouse together. Because then you could trick yourself, maybe, into believing you and Ben were some sort of couple. Cooking breakfast, laughing at dinner, watching movies and kissing and fucking and sleeping on top of each other. It’s so couple-y.

Perhaps you’d read it wrong. You’ve never done that with anyone before, the whole dating thing, so maybe that was … not it. Maybe that was just a friends with benefits sort of situation or maybe Ben just didn’t want to pursue any sort of relationship with you.

It sucks. But you suppose you can understand, in the beginning, though after just about a week you’ve had enough of it again.

He walks you to your room in Tokyo after a show and while he’s fiddling for the keys to your room you bring it up. “Benny, do you like me?”

Ben pauses, hand froze in midair from where he’d begun to reach for the lock on the door, and then he says, “Of course.”

“You don’t act like it. I mean, I thought there was something going on between us.”

The tension in the air is thick as peanut butter, and your voices are oddly soft to try and not wake anyone else on this floor, and Ben shoves the key into the lock. “I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You snort, entirely unprofessional and the sort of thing your mother would call not lady-like but you don’t really care. “You were my bodyguard when we were on house arrest together, too. I mean, if you don’t like me then just tell me. I’d rather know outright.”

Which isn’t true. If he tells you he doesn’t like you like that then you really do believe you’ll throw yourself from a window.

But then he says, voice thick, “I do but - that was different. I feel - bad, I guess. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“You can protect me while we’re together.”

“Sweetheart …”

“Benny.”

You won’t give this up until he gives you a valid answer, and Ben opens your door with a small sigh. Is this conversation irritating to him? Well, god forbid you want some sort of clarity. You’re horrific at reading situations like this.

“Okay,” he begins, and your eyes widen just a bit. Is he going to agree? “I like you. You know that. And if you were anyone else -” he pauses. You nod, encouraging him to go on, but Ben takes his fucking time collecting himself and you’re ready to just go into your room and slam the door in his face when he speaks up again. “I feel shitty about what we did.”

“You shouldn’t. Come on, I liked it and you liked it and I thought there was something.”

“And there was.” Pause. “Is. But it shouldn’t happen while my main job is to protect you. I can get distracted.”

This doesn’t add up in your fucking head. “Wouldn’t it make you better at your job if we’re together? Because you’d be more determined to protect me, you know?”

Ben shoves the key back into his pocket and braces his hands on his hips, and when he looks up at you - God. He has ruined you, hasn’t he? Because he’s standing here, rejecting you, and all you want to do is pull him into your room and make your limp a little worse. “Sweetie -”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s stupid because he’s called you that since before the two of you ever did anything but it just makes your anger and sadness and betrayal a thousand times worse. Sweetheart. Sweetie. Boyfriends call their girlfriends that and it’s only making everything so much harder to hear it from him now, in this situation.

He bites at his bottom lip and you take a step into your room, clutching the doorknob, waiting for the perfect moment to slam it in his face. It has to be perfect, absolutely perfect, the ideal dramatic moment. Then he says, “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted,” and your grip loosens on the cold knob.

You take a deep inhale, willing your breath to steady before you reply. “Ben. I wouldn’t want to be with you if I thought it would jeopardize my life. I mean - no offense - but being with you isn’t exactly worth that.”

Ben gives a humorless smile to the ground. “No, it isn’t worth that at all.”

“But that won’t happen. I’m not going to die or something because we’re together. Come on. If you want to and I want to then what’s the problem?”

It’s your last resort. If he turns you down one more time you swear you’ll stop trying, you’ll close the door and go to your bed and cry into your stupid pillow so he doesn’t hear you from the room next door. And tomorrow you’ll resume whatever remnants of a friendship you can pick up from this experience and life will go on, and you’ll meet someone else, and Ben will be but a distance memory of fierce longing and achingly good cock.

You’re planning your future without him as an option when Ben sighs and says, “We can give it a go.”

“What?”

“You. Me. We can give it a go, if you’d really like. I can’t guarantee it’ll work but we can try -”

Whatever else Ben wants to say is utterly lost as you throw yourself forward, arms around his neck and his palms at your back, and you’re kissing him so intensely - brutally - passionately. One leg hooks around his waist and he places his palm on the back of your thigh, keeping it up, kissing you back with every ounce of energy he’s got. It’s tongues fighting and teeth clashing, and when you pull away you can see bruising on his swollen lips from the intensity of it. You’re sure you’re sporting a familiar look, and you’d wear it every single day if it means Ben is yours.

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But dating is weird.

You call him your boyfriend and it feels wonderful, just having him being your boyfriend, and you kiss and hold hands when there’s nobody around but when there is Ben drops his hand to his side, reverts his face back to the one he’s always sported, and there’s not a single headline speculating about the nature of your relationship.

He’s your bodyguard in public and your boyfriend in private and you think you’re fine with that. You’ve never done this before, not since getting famous and going on tours and becoming who you are and you aren’t sure how relationships are meant to work. Surely this is normal. A lot of your more famous friends have relationships that have never seen the light of the media, and when you tell them about Ben they advise you to keep it on the down low.

Which means to never tell anyone if you aren’t completely positive they’ll keep it hush-hush.

And … well … that’s not many people. So maybe Ben is your secret. And it’s a good secret, the best, with so many sub-secrets it could be like a tree. Branches extending off of it. There’s the way he likes to draw on your thigh when you sit in his lap and how he likes trying to run his fingers through your hair even if he knows he’ll never make it to your ends without a hassle. And there’s the way he always kisses your skin after biting it, and how he forces you to maintain eye contact while he’s lapping at your cunt.

Does anyone know him like this? Have you known anyone like this?

Surely Ben has his own secrets about you. The ones he wouldn’t tell you, the things he’s noticed. And thinking of that makes you warm and fuzzy inside, and sometimes when you look at him you just want him to wrap his arms around you and hold you and kiss you with the gentleness of a wave hitting the shore. Lapping at the sand, light, smooth.

And other times you want him to slam you against the wall so hard you see stars, lips sucking brutally dark hickeys into the column of your throat, knee digging into your cunt with desperate intensity. A tsunami crashing into a city.

It’s a sharp contrast.

Surely he feels some sort of similarity.

You appreciate this, mostly, the off moments. You’re curled up on his lap as the bus beneath you rumbles back to your hotel, your cheek against his chest, his hands folded on your thighs. And Ben’s finger traces circles and letters and numbers and complete gibberish into your skin, his breath warm against the side of your face. You’re pumped up on those post concert adrenaline rushes and Ben knows it, lets you bounce your leg against his, doesn’t try and stop you as you hum loudly.

And your tour feels like it’s quickly coming to a close, with three weeks left, and if that doesn’t suck.

“You’re all jittery, sweetheart,” Ben tells you, and your eyes meet his with a slightly guilty grin. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright,” you reply, and it’s the whole truth. “Rarely been better. I love performing, Benny, you know that? Gets me all excited. And now I have too much energy and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Instinctively you shift in his lap, throwing one leg over each side of his thighs until you’re straddling his waist, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. You let it linger, lips against his skin, and then you trail it across his face until you’re kissing the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to your lips against his.

“I think you have a few ideas,” Ben says, and his eyes flit around the bus. Empty. In the back of the bus - where you and Ben generally took up residence - none of your crew ever joins you, opting for the front, and with just the right position the pair of you can shield yourself completely from view of any wandering eyes. “And I’d love to wear you out. But wouldn’t you want to wait until we get to the hotel?”

You contemplate for a moment. Generally you’d say yes but with every shift of your hips the growing bulge in his jeans rubs against your core and you don’t think you can wait. “No. No, Benny, I’ll be quiet, I promise. Need you now, though.”

He drops his head back against the seat when you place your palm over his boner, fingernails dragging against the denim, and a smirk spreads across your face. Hands work at the zipper on his jeans until you can pull his cock out - achingly hard and leaking at the tip already, God, how pretty - and Ben’s hands rest on your hips, pulling you down onto him. Your skirt - short, so short, and it’s cold and impractical but anything for the shows - hikes up onto your torso and your clothed clit rubs against his cock, slickness rubbing off onto your panties. It makes it all so much easier to ride him like this.

“Oh, God,” you mumble, grinding your hips against him, and Ben lets out a low strangled moan. You reach up and press a shaky palm against his mouth, his lips against your hand, and roll against him again. Hands tighten on your hips and you couldn’t recall this ever feeling so good and in fact you aren’t sure you’ve done this since you were a teenager - drunk and tight clothes, sweaty bodies and hair that was straightened every damn day just to make it easier for those boys to touch, jerky movements and hands that didn’t know their landing spot. And it’s different now, perhaps because Ben knows what he’s doing and so do you, and even as the bus drives on uneven road it feels so smooth. “Fuck, Ben. Feels so good.”

His hips buck up, forcing more pressure onto your pussy, and you lean forward to kiss him sloppily, letting him guide your movements. Your teeth grind against each other, your hands moving up and down his neck, and every noise that forces its way from your mouth is swallowed by Ben. And vice versa. And it’s good.

You’re gonna cum on his jeans. And not even from riding his thigh, which is a bit more respectable. From humping his cock.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetie?” Ben questions, voice low and quiet, and you drop your forehead against his. It’s embarrassingly fast. You hadn’t known how needy you were but you’ve barely been going at this for five minutes and you’re going to cum and it’ll be fast and intense. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock. Wanna see you cum for me.”

You give yourself another twenty seconds to hold out. Ben drags his hand down your back to grasp at the globes of your ass, kneading the skin, and you press down onto his cock, clit rubbing against him, and then you reach your climax and oh no it’s too much you’re biting down on his shoulder and he hisses out in pain but he doesn’t stop you and you know you know you know you’ll be too loud if you dare to pull away so you don’t you just pull his body into yours and rock your hips again and again until you’re positive you’re done until you can move your face from his shoulder and take a breath instead of sobbing out.

A tear trickles from the corner of your eye, and Ben brings a finger to wipe it away.

“You’re so good.” his voice is soft and you lean in to kiss him, lips gentle against yours. You swear you could kiss him for weeks and not get tired. What’s the world record for kissing? You and Ben should break it. You know that you could. “Did so good.”

The bus is slowing down and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, focusing on steadying your breathing. Ben presses a hand against your back, rubbing you lightly, and then he tugs down your skirt to cover your hips. You shift and lean back against his thighs, pressing your palm against his cock, and he inhales sharply.

“Did you cum?” you question, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips, and Ben reaches down to wrap his fingers around your wrist. “I was going to help you with that in the hotel but …”

“Oh, shut up,” he tells you, and turns his head to glance out the window. “We’re almost at the hotel, you know.”

You tilt your head to the side and then lean in to kiss him. He returns it with ease. “I can still help you in the hotel, you know. With stress. A massage, maybe.” You pull apart from him, moving your hand up to his face. Your pinky drags against his lip, and you watch him slowly begin to smile. Small, yes, but you’re getting them out of him more often and it’s insanely satisfying. “A blowie,” you add, popping the ‘b.’

Ben drops his head back against the seat, and his hands go to the front of his trousers, fixing himself up for the inevitable moment you soon have to leave the bus. “A blowie? Nobody calls it that, sweetheart.” When he’s decent again he sits up more and you move with him, adjusting yourself so you maintain a comfortable position. “I’d love a blowjob, but you look like you need rest.”

You hold a hand out in front of you and stare down at it, and then back up at him with furrowed brows and the same stupid grin at your lips. It’s like an expression that never changes when you’re with him - he just does it to you. “I don’t think so. I feel all bouncy now. All hopped up. You shouldn’t have let me practically ride you if you wanted me to sleep back at the hotel.” You lean forward so your mouths are practically touching, and when you speak your breath hits the front of his face. “The only sleeping I wanna do is sleeping with -”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours with a dry laugh, and you return it with ease - hand going to the back of his head, leaning into him, feeling his hand go to your hip and then trailing down your back. Fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tug on the strands lightly, feeling his head jerk at the feeling.

“You need to sleep,” Ben murmurs into your mouth, fingers trailing up the back of your shirt to stroke over your skin. “Tomorrow we can do whatever you want. You don’t have rehearsal at all.”

You pull away from him with a grin, rolling your hips against him once more. A glance outside shows you that the bus has slowed to a stop, and you recognize the areas surrounding your hotel even if you can’t see the building itself. “That sounds perfect. I guess I’ll suffer through tonight with my fingers -” as if to demonstrate, you hold your hands up in front of him and wiggle your fingers, “- just to wait for tomorrow.”

Ben’s eyes widen as you hop off his lap, making your way to the front of the bus as he attempts to keep up. “Your -?”

“Yep!” The two of you walk off the bus into the crisp, cold nighttime air, and Ben wraps his arm around you as he begins to lead you to the front door of the hotel. “They work fine, don’t worry. Maybe if you listen close enough you’ll hear me.”

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benny. wake up now.

You send the text and wait, the dark surrounding you nearly suffocating in its intensity. Your hotel room itself is brutally hot, and your curls are tied in a knot atop your head with the thickest scrunchie you could find in your bag and yet sweat still drips down your neck and onto your back, and the covers have long since been kicked aside.

If you sit up and crane your neck, you can rest the back of your head against the wall - and directly on the other side of that wall is Ben. Perhaps asleep, but he’s never taken more than five minutes to answer one of your texts. Maybe he never sleeps. It wouldn’t be very surprising.

The brightness of your phone screen nearly hurts, and when you look back down at it to make the light dimmer there’s a response on your screen.

Is everything okay?

of course. but it’s really really hot.

Three dots appear and you push yourself up, tank top riding up to expose a sliver of your midriff.

I know. Feels like we’re being tortured for something.

sin?

Haha. Maybe.

You pull your shirt up to expose more of your stomach. The air hitting your skin alleviates some of the heat beating down on you, even in the dead of night, and you’re half tempted to just strip down for the night when an entirely different - an entirely better - idea hits you.

i’m all decked out in my sweaty summer attire. do you wanna see?

Do I?

You open up the camera, pointing it down on your body. The screen is uncomfortably close to your face but if you cross your eyes you can make sure you’re angling the shot just right - your short, tight sleep shorts, the tank top failing to cover half of your stomach, the peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric. When the flash goes off you can see the sweat on your body, glistening in the light, and you take a moment to examine your work before sending it off to Ben in the room next to you.

The lightning fast wifi Ben had insisted on makes sure the picture sends in barely a second, and after a minute or so you see the three bubbles appear again.

A grin spreads across your face as you see his response. Looks good enough to eat.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard of your phone. then come over here. not a long walk. i'm pretty sure you can manage it. even as old as you are.

You do know I’m four years older than you, right? Not forty.

I might need a little more motivation to make that trek, though.

Well, you’re only too eager to comply. Setting your phone down on the sheets beside you, you sit up and tug at your tank top, working it over your bun before throwing it to the ground. Your chest is slick with sweat and it feels impossibly good to have them out to the air. You reach for your phone and open to take a new picture, aiming your screen down at you and placing your hand over your left breast - nipple in between your thumb and your forefinger, you snap the picture and then look at it to examine.

You add a text to go along with it - will this make you come and join me? - and then hit send, watching the message go through, and then you drop your phone onto your bare stomach and wait.

Not for long, though. There’s a knock at your door just a few seconds later, and you practically jump out of bed, bounding down the hall with just your shorts on. Moving around freely feels wonderful on your skin, the sheen layer of sweat feeling like it’s dissipating with every movement, and when you’re at the door you rest your forehead against the wood and call out softly, “Who is it?”

It’s mocking, of course. You know exactly who it is. Making him wait is, truly, a joy - and it makes wetness rush down to your core when you hear his gruff voice replying, “You fucking know who,” and you unlock the door and swing it open without a second of hesitation.

Within a moment his lips are on yours, brutal and hard and fast paced and you nearly forget how to breathe - with his hand on your back, using his leg to kick the door shut, other hand locking it again. Your arms go around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft blonde curls as you lead him further into your hotel room. The heat is still so dense it just about hurts but it’s better with him, better as your hands trail down his back and hook around the hem of his boxers, fingernails grazing the top of his ass, better as he pushes you onto the bed and kisses his way down your jaw and neck, paying extra attention to the hardening buds of your nipples. The way his tongue swipes across your breasts is - extraordinary, how gentle yet rough he is.

“Ben, I need you. Need you now.” For how demanding the request is, your tone ruins all possible dominance it could convey - whimpery, soft, vulnerable as he sucks a hickey just above your navel. Fingers dig into the hem of your shorts, pulling them down your legs and they’re damp with your sweat but neither of you care - he just tosses them away and parts your thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin surrounding your cunt, but before he can go any further you bring your foot up, press it to his shoulder, push him away. “Turn the light on. I want to - want to see you.”

He obeys, rolling off the bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and when the room is flooded with light you can see him. Face red, glistening with moisture, and his fucking cock hard in his boxers - you feel almost bad as he returns back between your legs.

He needs release like you do.

“Benny, please. Fuck me.” It’s a plead, plain and desperate, and Ben looks up at you before wrapping his lips around your clit - plainly ignoring your request but you don’t really mind anymore, dropping your head back against the bed with a low moan. “Oh, god.”

Ben flicks his tongue just right against your clit and your hand flies down to his hair, squeezing at the strands until he’s hissing against your pussy but he doesn’t tell you to stop - just sucks your folds into his mouth, lapping up your arousal with a willing tongue, murmuring, “You taste like a fucking dream, sweetheart.”

Your breath grows heavier, and you struggle to swallow, digging your fingernails into his scalp as he works at you - and it feels so good, oh god. But you need more, need him, so you move your hands to his cheeks and force him off of you. His lips detach from your clit with a pop and he lets you pull his head up to yours, attaching your lips again, teeth crashing against each other and your taste is still prominent on his tongue.

Ben’s hands go to his boxers, tugging them down his thighs, and you can feel his hardened length against your thigh - can feel the wetness of his precum, and you whimper into his mouth.

“Benny, please. Please, please …” When he lines himself up at your entrance you could almost cry out.

HIs tip prods at your entrance and you wiggle your hips forward, trying to make him go faster but then Ben stops, bringing his hands up to where yours are tangled in the sheets on either side of your head, and you spread your fingers so he can intertwine his own with them. “Look at me, sweetie. Come on, look at me -- look --” You open your eyes and meet his gaze, swallowing as he pushes himself inside of you, and you can’t help but moan out loudly at the feeling.

“Oh, god,” Ben grunts, and the sound is heavenly to your ears. HIs forehead drops forward against yours, and you squeeze his hands, rubbing your fingers against the back of them - you’re trying to catch your breath, trying desperately, but it’s clear the both of you are struggling.

And it’s odd.

You two fuck - a lot, admittedly, and it’s never really been like this. So heavy. So intense. And Ben absolutely won’t let you break eye contact, pulls his head back to stare at you as he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is submerged in your heat before pushing back in. And you’re still grasping his hands, arching your back as he leans in to kiss your jaw and his eyes are still on yours.

A strangled moan forces its way out of your throat, and your leg - hooked around Ben’s hip, keeping his body against yours - tightens. “Fuck, Ben, please go faster - please.”

He obeys without hesitation, hips snapping against yours as fast as they’ll go. Any other time and your hands would be gripping the comforter so tight you’d be afraid of breaking it but you don’t have the soft covers in between your fingers - you have Ben’s hands, tight in yours, and you grip tighter and tighter until your nails are digging into the backs and you know there’ll be small, half crescent shaped indents when you next check. With every pump of his hips his cock brushes against that perfect spot, deep inside of you, and makes your moans and sobs and shouts louder.

No mind to the other people on this floor, late at night. That’s a problem for you to deal with tomorrow, not now. Not when Ben is doing these things to you.

Trails of sloppy kisses lead up your chest, your neck and to your lips, and you stretch your arms up above your head - arching up into the touch of Ben’s lips.

“Look at me.” his voice is firm and you hadn’t realized that you’d let your eyes slip shut. You struggle to reopen them, eyes meeting his, and a tear slips down your cheek. You aren’t particularly sure why, but something about your eyes on his while he’s fucking you like this forces those emotions from you. “I want your eyes on me. Are you going to cum?”

You nod pathetically. “Y-yes. Yes, Benny, oh my god.”

Ben untangles one of his hands from yours, and the air hits your sweaty palm but you don’t get to revel at the small relief as he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit with two of his fingers. He presses down with firm, tight circles, and your vision goes white as you begin to feel your orgasm take over - but the thing that pushes you over the edge is when Ben brings your intertwined hands to his mouth, pressing a sloppy kiss to the sweaty back of your hand.

And you cum.

Your leg falls off of his torso, back down onto the soft bed, and you throw your head back and your eyes squeeze shut and you can’t help it. His hand moves from your clit to your chin, forcing your head up, and your eyes open again. He leans in to kiss you, sloppy and messy, teeth clashing and tongues swiping against each other, and you hear his stuttered grunt before he pushes himself into you completely one final time, spurts of hot cum coating your inner walls with the onset of his orgasm.

It always feels so good.

Ben thrusts in and out of you a few more lazy times, until you use your free hand to smack his shoulder. A silent invitation for him to stop, though you’re fairly certain you’re too far gone to truly tell him that. He pushes himself further onto the bed and then pulls you into him, your back firmly against his chest, and your hands are still attached.

“How was that?” he questions, voice soft, and you can hear how hoarse it is. It’s always like that after fucking.

“Perfect. Perfect, Benny, as always.” You want to kiss Ben, to assure him that he’s always beyond satisfactory but you can’t bother yourself to stretch like that. You just rest your head further against him, focusing on breathing.

Inhale, exhale.

A pair of lips presses against the back of your head, and you smile slightly. You love this, the off moments, the times between the sex. Your heart swirls with some emotion you aren’t entirely sure you’ve felt before - and you can’t pinpoint what it is, not exactly. But it’s intense when it’s with Ben, like a cloud surrounding you - suffocating you - but it’s good. So good.

His palm presses over your stomach, thumb rubbing into the soft skin, and you shut your eyes, feeling totally and utterly wrapped around him - his body and his finger, really - and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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The last two weeks of your tour are bittersweet.

It’s been long, sure. The longest tour you’ve had yet and you feel like you’ve visited enough cities to cover a map in small, red, been-there-done-that dots, but it’s entirely worth it - worth the small detour you took to the middle of nowhere, worth the sleepless nights, worth the complete and utter exhaustion at the other end of the spectrum.

Totally worth the bodyguard-slash-boyfriend you’ve gained from it, even if you didn’t think you’d need him. Because you’re fairly positive you do need him now, need him for more than just an orgasm, because the in between moments aren’t just in between now.

They make up at least half of your interactions. And it’s positively lovely, sneaking into Ben’s room at night to cuddle and watch movies instead of fuck until you’re limping for your show the next evening. The fucking is always great and you’ve still got more than enough of it, but, hell, a girl needs some soft bits too. Ben supplies these without hesitation, and if converting some sexy times to sweet times has bothered him at all he certainly doesn’t say nor show it.

The Las Vegas night is warmer than you’d expected, though it shouldn’t have been - a city like that and you shouldn’t have even bothered to bring a sweater out on your walk. But you did, of course, and it’s tied around your waist, fabric brushing against the back of your legs, bare in your shorts. The streets at 8pm are crowded, and every now and then you catch someone’s eye - someone who looks surprised to see you, someone who appears to be a fan - but you haven’t been formally recognized yet.

No one’s asked for a picture, to simplify things. It’s an absolute blessing. Sometimes you need nights to yourself, but the hand clasped in yours may tell a different story.

Ben doesn’t count when you need nights to yourself. And he would never let you take a walk in an American city by yourself as the sun starts to go down.

“Do you have any idea of where we’re going?” he questions, and when you look at him a smile begins to spread over your face.

Oh, damn emotions. Damn beautiful boyfriend.

“Nope.” You pop the p, shaking your head so the thick braid you’ve tied in your locks sways back and forth. “I figure we’ll just walk until one of us gets tired, and then we can sit somewhere or just head back.” You glance at him again, tilting your head down to stare him in the eye. “Sound good?”

And he nods. “Sounds perfect.”

“Perfect.”

You avert your gaze down to your feet - the way both of your sneakers hit the sidewalk, his black and yours white, and the sight of your swinging hands brings heat to your cheeks for no reason at all.

(Truth be told, being so hands on with Ben in public is odd to you. And that - in itself - is odd, because is there ever a time his arm isn’t around your waist in crowds? But no, this is different, oh so different, having your palm pressed to his and all of these people can see.)

(But you don’t have too much time in Las Vegas, and it seems like the kind of place you should get out and explore before you’re gone tomorrow. You haven’t done much today, anyway. Woken up sick, so you cancelled rehearsal, but the show for tomorrow is still on. You can’t cancel anymore dates, no matter what.)

“Sweetheart,” Ben says, and you ignore the way your heart pounds against your chest at the name. “Come in here.” He nods his chin to a small corner store, one that looks as though it’s falling apart at the seams, but in your 24 years of life you’ve found that those types are the best.

You don’t ask what he needs from the store - just nod and let him lead you inside, the bell jangling as the two of you enter, and the small, stout man at the counter doesn’t spare you two a glance. Doesn’t look away from his customer, the old, white lady holding out a cupped hand as he dumps her change into her palm.

She doesn’t say thank you, just walks out of the store. You make a mental note to thank the cashier when you check out.

You and Ben walk to the very back, past the aisles of brightly packaged snacks, and you’re half tempted to grab a candy bar but you know you can get better food at the hotel. Still, you look mournfully at them as you make your way to the cold drinks, and Ben pulls open one of the freezer doors to reach in and grab a Coke.

“You know,” you begin, pulling your hand from his and crossing your arms over your chest. “That shit gives you diabetes. It’s gross.”

He looks down at the red bottle in his hands and then shrugs. “It tastes so good, though. I’ll take my chances.”

Ben turns to make his way up to the counter but you grab his arm, tugging him back with a small grin over your face. “Coke can take rust away from cans. Imagine what it does to your body.”

“I’m sure it’s no worse for the body than that lemonade you had at dinner.”

You pull a face in mock offense, and from the front of the store the bell jingles again. “Carbonation will damage your teeth, Benny. I’m not going to kiss you when you only have three teeth left.”

He furrows his eyebrows together, and you break character to giggle, and then you lean up to press a kiss to his lips. Ben glances down at the bottle again and then says, muffled against your mouth, “Well, in that case.” When you pull away he reaches for the freezer again - pulls the door open and places his coke back inside, and then bends down to grab a red Gatorade. He shuts the door and holds the drink out for you to inspect. “How’s this, darling?”

“Darling, not sweetheart?” you grab the Gatorade from him and pretend to inspect it. “Quite the change. I like it.”

You thrust the bottle back into his hands.

Ben rolls his eyes and grabs your hand again, intertwining your fingers as he winds you both back through the aisles and up to the counter. “I’ve called you plenty of things other than sweetheart.”

“Like..?”

“Just because I can’t name examples doesn’t mean -”

He stops in his tracks.

You - walking behind him in the narrow aisles of food and candy - bump into his back, and you curse under your breath. “Fuck’s sake, Ben, what’s -”

Ben doesn’t need to tell you to be quiet for you to get the message. You press your lips together and push yourself onto your toes, trying to see around Ben, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what’s going on - why is there a man in all black, hood pulled over his head? You can’t understand -

A loud shot rings out through the store. You clasp your hand over your mouth, watching the man at the counter fall to the ground with one final cry, and then he crumples in a pile of blood and moves no more.

And the guy who did it -

You drop back down to your feet. You can’t look at him, at his face through his hood as he turns his gaze upon the open cash register, rifling through the stacks of bills. Your heart is racing and your palm is sweaty, and you push yourself closer to Ben’s back. You can’t - you can’t understand, can’t comprehend what’s happening.

None of this makes sense. The cashier isn’t dead. This has to be an act, of some sort, a practical joke. And the man with the gun and the hood - holding a thick wad of cash - he’s not actually doing this.

Ben still isn’t moving. You don’t think you could if you tried.

But the man - he hasn’t seen you yet. At least, you don’t think.

Ben squeezes your hand, and perhaps he’s as scared as you are. Perhaps he’s used to this, but you don’t know.

You don’t fucking know. And you don’t know what to do now, how to react, what you’re supposed to be seeing and feeling and doing. You’ve never seen someone die before, and the poor, poor cashier is dead on the ground with a bullet hole through his chest.

It seems like time stands still as the man stuffs the cash in his hoodie pocket, and then he turns to leave and you want to be relieved, to let out a breath you’ve been holding. To check on the cashier (you were going to thank him, to do what that lady hadn’t) and feel his heart pumping beneath your fingers, call the police and go back to the hotel.

But then - the man’s gaze turns upon the pair of you, standing in between aisles of candy.

You can practically hear him breathing from across the store, in the dense silence surrounding all three of you. And then he yells, “Put your fucking hands up,” and then Ben charges at him.

Ben knocks the gun out of his hand before the man can even have time to raise it, and you the thud when the pair of them fall to the ground is deafening. You take a step back, bringing a hand up to press over your mouth, because it’s all you can fucking do. It’s all you can even process - pure shock. Shock as the man reaches for the gun across the floor. Shock as Ben reaches his leg out to kick it away. Shock as your boyfriend looks at you, arms wrapped around the man’s neck, and yells at you to call the fucking police.

It’s all you can do to obey. You fumble in the pocket of your sweatshirt around your waist and find your phone, and with shaking fingers you go to your calls and dial in 911, and then you take a step back - turn around so you can’t see what’s happening because if you see your boyfriend fighting with a murderer you might vomit before you can even talk to the police.

Ring. There’s a groan from behind you, and you can’t recognize the tone of it.

Ring. There’s another sickening thud, like something heavy hitting the cool tile of the convenience store, and you can’t bring yourself to think about what it was.

Ring. Your heart beats uncontrollably and a tear falls down your cheek, and you wonder if the cashier had a family. Is his wife waiting for him? His kids, perhaps, with a new drawing to pin on the fridge? Is he alive, now, collapsed behind the counter and fighting for his life with no one to help him? Or is he gone, gone as soon as the bullet pierced his chest?

It’s hard to think that the latter is true, no matter how much you want to.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

The cool, female voice of the 911 operator nearly makes you sob out. You choke out with a strangled gasp, “There’s been a - a robbery in 7/11 - and the cashier -”

Another tear slips down your cheek and trails down your neck. You bring a hand up to wipe it away. You can vaguely process her question - where? Where is the store? - and in your mind you try to imagine the street signs, where you passed while you were walking and hardly anything comes to mind.

“I think -” you swallow. “I think Paradise -”

Another bullet rings out through the store, and your phone drops out of your grasp. The screen shatters as it hits the ground, and with a cry you fall to the ground because -

You’ve never been shot before. You suppose it’s a night of firsts, and the bullet hurts so fucking much you can’t fucking handle it - blood stains your t shirt and your head slams against the ground, hand pressed against the wound in your shoulder, and the bright fluorescent lights of the 7/11 are the last thing you see before your vision falls away and you’re plunged into darkness.

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In your dreams you think about the cashier, but only briefly. You imagine his life, him as a child, growing up, getting married. Working at a 7/11, and selling to customers who don’t bother to even thank him as they leave, and it’s a tragic life, the one you picture for him.

When your eyes open you’re staring at the ceiling, bright fluorescent lights, and there are tears on your cheeks. You wonder if you’re still on the cool tiles of 7/11 - or, perhaps, in heaven, doomed to haunt the crappy convenience store for all eternity - but there’s something soft beneath your back. Ringing in your ears.

And your head aches. Oh, Christ, it aches so fucking bad.

You press your hands over your eyes, but it does slightly hurt to move. Not as bad as the raging throbbing of your brain inside your head, and considering what happened - you suppose that’s a surprise. Surely being shot should hurt more than a headache.

And it hurt so bad, the bullet in your shoulder.

It must have hurt so much worse for the cashier. In your heart you’re sure he’s gone, now. Even if he was alive in the moments just after.

“Hey.”

The voice - familiar and soft spoken - still sends what feels like spikes through your temples, and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a small whimper. Slowly you turn to look at the person sitting next to the bed and you shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Ben but it is and you are.

“Hi.” you push yourself up more, giving him a small smile, and then you drop your hand down to grope for his hand. Oh, fuck, you need his touch, need him to tell you you’re going to be alright. And surely you will. But it always feels better coming from someone you love. “Hi. Benny. Oh my - oh my god.”

You can’t find his hand.

When your eyes meet his, they’re bloodshot and red, and you frown.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Ben mumbles, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. “I couldn’t - I was trying so hard. I promise. I never wanted you to -”

The lights hurt your eyes so you shut them, leaning your head back, and then you shake your head. “Benny - it’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is,” Ben interjects, and the tone of it confuses you. He sounds - angry, nearly, defensive. But surely he isn’t. What should he have to be angry for? “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s my job, Y/N. And I couldn’t.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, voice hoarse. “Ben, I’m fine.”

“But you might not have been.” You don’t open your eyes but you can practically sense his motions, and you don’t like it one bit. “The bullet didn’t - it grazed you. But if you had been in a slightly different position you could be dead or nearly so. And it would have been my fault.”

“It’s his fault!” Your voice rises, and then you open your eyes despite the violent throbbing in your head. “He - he killed that man and then he shot me and it wasn’t your fucking fault, Ben.”

Ben shakes his head and then runs a hand through his hair. You reach out again, try to grab his hand but you can’t reach it and he won’t help you. Angry tears sting at your eyes and you bring a hand up to brush them away, sniffling slightly. Ben says, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Your world comes to a full tilt stop.

And then you swallow, voice dry, all of a sudden. Surely you haven’t heard him right. Or maybe - maybe you’re still dreaming. “What?”

He stands, scooting his chair back with the most painful noise you’ve ever heard and you whine out again. He looks back at you and his arms are crossed, thumb in his mouth to nibble at his nail, and then he looks away from you. “I told you, when we started - when we started dating -”

You finish his sentence for him. “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted.” You raise an eyebrow, and he nods slowly. “It’s awfully arrogant of you to assume this happened because you were distracted. I mean, you didn’t seem very distracted.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Even slightly raising your voice sends waves of pain coursing through your mind, and you press your hands to your forehead as if that will stop the pain. Ben turns around and then sits at the edge of your bed, and you pull your feet up so you aren’t touching him.

You’re mad. You’re kind of very mad. He isn’t supposed to be breaking up with you because you got shot. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

“If we weren’t dating I wouldn’t have hesitated before going at him.” He’s explaining it like an adult would to a child and you fucking hate it, but you don’t have the energy to call him out on it. You feel - drained, of just about everything, and as he speaks you slowly keep shaking your head because this isn’t fucking right. “You know I love you.”

In any other circumstance the confession would surprise you, but you just shake your head. “I didn’t know that.”

There’s a thick pause, hanging heavy in the air before Ben continues. “Well - I do. I love you so much.” The words go straight to your heart and you can feel the pricking of tears behind your eyes again. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it necessary. Please understand that.”

But you can’t understand it. You don’t think you ever will.

You don’t respond, and after a minute the door to your hospital room opens and a nurse shuffles in with a small smile. She has thick curly hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head and dark skin, bright eyes and an aura that makes you immediately happy to be in her presence. If she can sense the tension in the air she certainly doesn’t show it, just makes her way over to you and pulls a seat up next to your bed.

“Miss Y/L/N. Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” The voice - so calm and steady - reminds you off the 911 operator, and you cringe slightly.

“Um -” you try to comprehend the question but it is, admittedly, more difficult than you’d like. “Fine. It kind of hurts when I move and my head - my head hurts a lot.”

Ben looks away. You don’t want to feel his gaze on you, anyway.

The nurse nods, and then writes some stuff down on the clipboard in her grasp. You don’t tell her how you’re emotionally feeling because it doesn’t matter - problems for another time.

After a moment she speaks again, and you avert your eyes to her nametag - the name Laura, loopy letters drawn in purple pen. “I have some things to discuss with you about some tests we ran.” She looks at Ben, seated at the bottom of the bed, and he obligingly stands without being told.

He looks at you and you pointedly look away. Your ex boyfriend, you suppose, now, clears his throat and then says, “I’ll be downstairs. Text me if you need anything.” He pauses. “We fixed your phone.” He nods to the table beside your bed, and in your peripheral vision you can see your familiar phone case.

Surely looking at your text conversations with him will just make you want to cry. You already know you won’t be texting him, no matter what you need.

Ben leaves and you hear the door shut before Laura turns back to you, drumming chipped nails against her clipboard, and she examines the paper clipped to it for a moment before speaking.

“Well, you’re a very lucky girl.” You don’t feel very lucky, with a throbbing head and a bullet through your shoulder, but you give her a false smile anyway. “The bullet didn’t do too much damage. Just grazed you.”

“It still hurt a lot.”

Laura laughs softly, though it wasn’t a joke. You appreciate her energy.

“You have a concussion - which should explain the headaches - but it’s fairly mild. Should feel better in two weeks or so.” Laura gives you a smile and you find it easier to return than you’d expected. She is a joy, you decide. And if you had to have one nurse telling you about injuries you sustained from getting shot, you certainly enjoy that it’s her. “But there are some other - rather concerning things we found while doing tests.”

Concerning? Nothing about that sounds good at all. You push yourself up more, looking down at her clipboard, and she adjusts it so you can’t see what she has written.

Sneaky.

“What?” your words slur together and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re concussed or nervous. “What is it?”

Instinctively you reach down for her free hand on the bed. She lets you grasp it, and then she clears her throat and says,

“Did you know that you’re pregnant, Miss Y/L/N?”

And - and -

“No.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up more, and you drop Laura’s hand like it’s a hot potato.

“No, I’m not,” you tell her, and she gives you an apologetic expression but you don’t want a fucking apologetic expression, you want her to tell you that she mixed up your fucking results with someone else. “I’m not. I mean, I can’t be. I’m sorry, but that isn’t right.”

“It is. The test was very conclusive.”

“It isn’t right.” It’s all you can think, pressing a hand over your stomach, and there’s no movement because there’s nothing there. There is no baby - you aren’t pregnant, you just fucking aren’t. It doesn’t make sense. “I’m sorry. It isn’t - it isn’t right.”

Laura stands, holding her clipboard to her chest, and now you’re fucking mad at her. Want to slam that clipboard over her head because she’s wrong. Those tests aren’t right.

She says, “I’ll give you some time to process this on your own,” and then she points out the button you can press if you need her, and she walks out.

You bring your knees to your chest the best that you can, hand kneading over your stomach, searching for any sign of life - a sign that isn’t there because there’s nothing there it isn’t true it can’t be true - and it’s still, unmoving, regular stomach.

It isn’t right.

It can’t. It can’t.

You were sick.

There’s a million reasons for that. You got food poisoning, perhaps. Or you just had a bug.

But there’s no fucking baby. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“Oh god.” you’re only speaking to yourself, and to the baby in your stomach that isn’t there, and you shake your head, eyes squeezed desperately shut. “Oh god. Oh - god.”

It’s the only thought in your head - the only words you’re capable of saying. No other thought can come to your mind, besides the fact that Ben is here and he’s the only one this thing could belong to - but it isn’t, it isn’t fucking true, it can’t be - and you do believe you might be texting him sooner than you’d wanted to.

“Oh god.”

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagines #borhap imagines #borhap smut #bohemian rhapsody imagines #hopefully it doesnt disappoint #also!!! bens-hardy if you want me to not use your gif lmk and ill take it out #but anyway follows bens-hardy their gifs are amazing

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dem-obscure-imagines · 6 years ago

Text

(Not So) Invisible Love

Ben Hargreeves x Reader Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Prompt: Dating Ben Hargreeves hc? Note: Mayhaps I love him? Also I went WAAAAAY OVERBOARD. Oh well. Warnings: None? (Well mentions of death...this is Ben after all…) Word Count: 4.5k

“Klaus, look at what I found at the witch market!”

The ghost-whisperer you fondly referred to as your best friend gasped in horror and held a hand over his chest. “You went to the witch market without me?!”

“I am a witch. Sometimes I go to the witch market. You act like this is surprising news. Besides, I’m the one who showed you that place anyway.”

“But you know how much Ben and I love the witch market…” Klaus looked to the empty seat on the couch. “He said he feels betrayed.”

“Well, tell him I said sorry. You guys can come with me when I go back next week.”

“I’m putting it on my calendar. You better not let me down, Baudelaire.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” You chuckled, sitting on the couch opposite Ben. Though you couldn’t see or hear Klaus’ ghostly brother, your supernatural tendencies made you better at feeling his aura than most. You were one of the first people who’d ever believed he was there in the first place. Maybe that was why Klaus had latched onto you so quickly. Or maybe it was because the two of you related in more ways than one.

You, like Klaus, were one of the children born that fateful day, but instead of being scooped up by Reginald Hargreeves to attend his Umbrella Academy, you’d been shipped off to Baudelaire’s, an exclusive school for gifted children tucked deep into the woods of Michigan. Needless to say, you got out of there about as quickly as you could. Reginald had raised his “children” to be famous, whereas Narcissa Baudelaire had done the opposite, nurturing the gifts of her recovered children in secret, tucked away where no one would find her.

It wasn’t that Narcissa was inherently awful to you or any of the other kids in the school. In fact, you knew she only wanted the best for you, but you’d always craved for something much more normal, which ironically had led you to meeting a man who saw the ghost of his dead brother.

“So, do tell what you found. You’re leaving us hanging.”

“This was on the clearance shelf, so I’m not expecting much, but…” You pulled the potion bottle out of the paper bag and held it up so the boys could read the label. “Tada~”

“Temporary Spirit Sight?” Klaus read, looking at you incredulously. “I already see ghosts.” He looked to the spot where Ben was sitting. “Shut up.”

“It’s for me, silly.” You shook your head. “Unlike the rest of you, I’ve never seen Ben, and considering we’ve been friends for the past year and a half, I think it’s about time I did.”

“Awwww, you hear that, Benny? So sweet.” Klaus put a hand over his heart and then grinned, looking at you. “You should see him, you’ve got him blushing.”

“Cute.” You chuckled, reading over the label and instructions more carefully. “Okay, so it says: Drink the entirety of the potion to feel full effects. When used properly, it grants the drinker the ability to see, hear, and touch spirits around them. Lasts up to three days.”

“So in other words, a little taste of what it’s like to be me.”

“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like.” You shrugged and popped the cork off, giving it a sniff for good measure. “Any thoughts from our ghostly companion?”

Klaus looked to Ben and then back to you. “He said ‘bottoms up.’”

“Here goes.” You tilted the bottle into your mouth, swallowing the contents in a few large gulps. After about a minute, the bottle was empty and you felt very dizzy, pinching your eyes shut. “Ooh ouch. That stings a bit. Pretty sour.”

“You okay?”

“Fine, yeah, do you think it worked?”

“Uh, based on the fact that I didn’t ask that question, I’d say yes.” Klaus grinned, watching as you slowly pulled yourself together.

You blinked a few times, processing what he’d said. If Klaus didn’t ask then that meant…Immediately, you bolted upright and looked to the other side of the couch, where Ben waved shyly, still unsure if you could REALLY see and hear him, or if it was simply too good to be true.

“Ben?” You asked, making direct eye contact with him.

“Y-yeah. Uh, hi. Nice to...finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Well, officially, that is.” You held out your hand, waiting for him to offer his in return. Hesitantly, he did. Ben didn’t expect much, certainly not to be able to make contact with you, but much to his surprise, his cold hand touched your much smaller, warmer one.

“Oh my God.” Ben gaped, not letting go even after an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

“What?”

“Sorry.” He snapped out of it, pulling his hand away to rub the back of his neck. “It’s just the last time I touched someone was...a long time ago. It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“Sounds like someone needs a hug.” Klaus tilted his head, amused. Ever since you and Klaus met, he knew that Ben had the BIGGEST crush on you. Though your powers were dark in nature, somehow you managed to be one of the brightest people he’d ever met, always happy and optimistic, kind and caring and willing to listen when Klaus came to you with his problems.

“Would you shut up?” Ben hissed at his brother, red creeping across his cheeks and up into the tips of his ears.

“Do you want a hug?”

“I-well, uh, yeah. I do.”

“C’mere.” You stood up and held your arms open. Ben looked at you with wide eyes for a second before he stood in front of you and surrendered to your embrace. It had been so long, so, so freaking long since someone had been able to hold him. He only realized now just how starved for human contact he was. “Wow, you really needed this, huh?”

“You have no idea.” He murmured into the fabric of your old gray hoodie.

***

The more you thought back on your friendship with Klaus, and therefore, your friendship with Ben, the more you could recall all of the little instances in which it had maybe been a little obvious that Klaus’ dead brother harbored more than friendly feelings towards you.

Most notable was a time you’d showed up at the Academy dressed up for your friend’s birthday party and he’d told Klaus to tell you that you looked stunning. There was the time you made tea for the three of you, and he told Klaus to thank you for setting out a third tea cup, even though you were all aware he couldn’t drink it. And in addition, there had been plenty of rainy afternoons when you’d felt his aura lingering near you even when Klaus was out or in another room.

You couldn’t imagine it was all that fun for him to just be there and watch you read, but Klaus told you once that Ben liked reading over your shoulder. After so many years on his own, Ben had become a quick reader, so it didn’t matter what pace you read at, he could keep up.

For the past day and a half, though, now that he was visible and tangible, it had been extremely obvious. Any opportunity he got, he’d touch you. At first, you wrote it off as Ben being touch-starved from his years of death, but then again, did ‘just friends’ really hold hands at every chance they got? They probably didn’t cuddle near the fire with a good book, either…

And it was after catching all of his lingering glances and whispered words when he thought you had fallen asleep against his shoulder that you realized, deep down, that you had harbored feelings for him, too. Sure, maybe a relationship between a witch and a ghost wouldn’t be the most orthodox, but you knew you’d be able to make it work somehow.

You knew that whatever you needed would likely be in one place. And that meant…

“KLAUS! BEN! I’M GOING TO THE WITCH MARKET! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!”

“I thought you were going to the witch market next week.” Ben noted, materializing beside you.

You slapped a hand over your chest as your heart raced in surprise. “Jesus! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

“Sorry. Forgot. Klaus is used to that by now.”

“It’s fine.” You waved it off, laughing. “Where’s your brother?”

“Did someone say witch market?” Klaus popped his head out from the foyer. “Oh, there you are, Ben. I was wondering where you’d wandered off to.”

“Shut up.” Ben glared at Klaus, but his features softened when he felt you slip your hand into his and give it a squeeze, grounding him in the moment. It was easy for him to forget that for this brief little window, you could touch him.

“Well, to answer your question, I WAS going to go next week, but this stuff is supposed to wear off tonight, so I wanted to be able to go together, if that’s alright.”

“That’s...more than alright.” Ben smiled, squeezing your hand back. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend this was a date. A cute little witch date. Granted, with his brother Klaus there, but a date no less.

You all piled into your car, with Klaus letting Ben take shotgun, and in about thirty minutes’ time, you were parked in the parking lot outside. There was an enchantment on the place to make it look abandoned and dilapidated to all who looked on without magic, but as soon as you cast the entry key, the spell was lifted from your guests’ eyes and you all walked in.

There were dozens and dozens of witches manning their own stalls and selling whatever they specialized in. Your first stop was to visit Nancy, the kind witch near the back corner of the store who had a variety of spell books along with other tomes she’d read and decided she didn’t need anymore. You told Ben to go find whatever he wanted and you’d get it for him, and he agreed, thanking you before wandering through the rows of boxes filled with old books. Meanwhile, Klaus was talking to the broom dealer further down the market.

“Nancy, this is an odd request, but, I need something to bring the dead back to life.”

“You sure don’t half-ass anything, do you, (Y/N)?” Nancy chuckled before reaching into the box tucked under her chair. “Now, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. It’s for your cute ghost boyfriend, isn’t it?”

“My-” You looked over at Ben, who excitedly motioned to a box next to him. You assumed he’d hit the jackpot. “Yeah, it is.”

“Well, this should do the trick.” Nancy handed the book to you and you paid her. “The trick is not to even concern the body in the matter. Easy to accidentally make zombies that way. Instead, you have to help his soul cross over from the spiritual plane to the physical one, which is not as hard as it sounds when you get the timing right.”

“Thank you so much.” You clutched the book to your chest before walking over to see what Ben was so excited about.

“She has the Narnia books.”

“Well then I guess we have to get them, huh?”

“Well, uh, we don’t HAVE to…”

“Right, but they’d make you happy. And you deserve to be happy, okay?” You looked up at him and watched as his expression melted into a smile.

“Okay.” He worked his hand into yours as you bent down and picked up the other books. Once you paid, Nancy helped you get them into a bag, and then the two of you walked over to Klaus, where he was still trying to strike a deal to get a broom.

“Klaus, we can just take mine for a spin sometime.” You told him, laughing as his face lit up. He gasped, spinning around to look at you.

“You’ve had a magic broomstick all this time and you didn’t tell us?”

“Well, if the pointy hat fits…” You shrugged, drawing a laugh out of Ben.

“Aww, aren’t you two awful cozy?” Klaus motioned between the two of you, grinning before turning around and leading the three of you further on through the market. “Come on, I want to see if they have any cool enchanted necklaces.”

***

When you all got back to the Academy, there were only a few hours left before the potion would wear off, so Ben insisted on taking you up to his old room to show you something.

“In here.” He pointed to the closet door so you could open it. You did, pulling it apart to find Ben’s old clothes, back from when he was alive. “I just...when you can’t see me anymore, I just want you to be able to remember that I’m here and that you’re never alone. I want you to have this one.”

Ben poked a black hoodie, his finger phasing right through the fabric. You carefully took it off of the hanger and slipped it on over your t-shirt. It was a bit bigger than what you usually wore, the sleeves covering your hands, but Ben loved the sight of you in his clothes, and couldn’t wait to see you wear his hoodie from time to time.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank YOU. You’ve done so much for me in these three days. I just...I really don’t know how to repay you…”

“Ben, you literally have nothing to repay me for.” You shook your head, looking up at him and trying to memorize his features. In a little while, you wouldn’t be able to see or touch him again for a long time. “I had a great time finally getting to talk to you. I mean, well, without a translator involved.”

“Yeah, I guess from now on, Klaus will have to third wheel…”

“Yeah…” You exhaled a little sigh and reached forward to take Ben’s hand in yours. “This is a really shitty time to say this, and I’m sorry for holding it in for so long, but….I think I caught some feelings for you, Ben. And I just didn’t know if-”

“Oh thank God.” Ben smiled, pulling you against his chest, arms wrapped tight around you. “I’ve had this giant crush on you since, well, the day we met, I guess. The first day, about a year and a half ago.”

“And I know it’s weird, and I’m a witch and you’re...dead. But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

“I’d love that.”

***

Operation: Bring Ben Back from the Dead was going to be a lot simpler than you thought it would be. The spell book Nancy had given you said you only needed a few things you didn’t already have, and those could be gathered on a quick trip to the Witch’s Market. Some of them, you didn’t even need to go the the Witch’s Market for.

You didn’t tell Ben about your plan for two reasons. The First was, you weren’t sure quite how he’d react to it. Second, you didn’t want to get his hopes up in case it didn’t work. You did, however, need Klaus’ help for some parts of it. This meant you had to get him alone, which was easier said than done.

“KLAUS! BEN! I’M GOING TO THE WITCH MARKET TO DO SOME GROCERY SHOPPING!!” You hollered up into the big empty house.

“What the hell is a witch market?” A younger member of the Academy, who you could only imagine was Five, walked into the entrance hall, a store mannequin tucked under his arm.

“I’m (Y/N). Klaus’ witch friend. Think of it as like a specialty market, except for witches.”

“Ah.” He nodded, leaving as quickly as he’d come, with Klaus waltzing out in his place. You felt Ben’s presence there next to him, and you smiled, looking to where you were pretty sure you felt him.

“Hey guys.”

“Witch market? We’re so in.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

About thirty minutes later, you, Klaus, and Ben were strolling up and down the rows of merchants, filling your cart with the things from your list. Once you got close to Nancy’s stall, you turned to where you felt Ben and told him he could pick out a book if he wanted to. As soon as you were alone with Klaus, he turned to you accusingly.

“You’re trying to bring Ben back, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“To him, no. Not at all. To me, well, the daffodils on your little ‘shopping list’ there are a giant red flag.”

“Alright, you got me.” You shrugged, surrendering. You turned to the herb dealer and bought aloe leaves, a few cloves of garlic, ivy, and some sage, components of what would become your Drought of Life. “So I’m trying to bring my ghost boyfriend back to life. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all, but I wish you would have asked me for HELP, maybe. Ben’s been following me around for years. You think I don’t want to see him happy?”

“I’ve been TRYING to ask you, but it’s not exactly like I’ve ever gotten the chance without him there.”

“Fair point.” Klaus glanced over his shoulder. “Ghost boy incoming.” Klaus listened to Ben before reporting to you. “He said there’s nothing good over there today.”

“Alright. It was worth a shot.” You shrugged, smiling before you pushed the cart over to the vendor selling copious amounts of candles. You bought twelve white candles of varying heights and widths and added them to your cart along with the rest of the goodies.

Once you crossed them off the list, that left very little to get, the last thing being one of Ben’s used socks, but you had been sure not to put that on your little list. So, after all of you were done, you loaded up your car and headed back to the Academy.

You immediately walked into the kitchen and started brewing. Your cauldron was here because the Academy was the perfect place for making potions, and Grace and Pogo didn’t seem to mind all that much, so long as you cleaned up after yourself and didn’t brew anything dangerous. Once the water was boiling, you waved your hand over the steam a few times, rolling up the sleeves of Ben’s hoodie. You felt his presence behind you, his form molding against yours.

“I miss your voice, Ben.” You whispered to him, imagining his arms wrapped around your waist. “I’ve fallen in love with the invisible boy…”

“Aww, aren’t you two cute?” Klaus walked into the kitchen, holding the socks you needed. He was quiet for a moment, listening to whatever Ben was saying. “He says he’s glad you like his hoodie.”

“Well, how could I not like it? It’s so warm and soft…” You murmured, tearing the aloe leaves into bits and then sprinkling them into the swirling waters, for healing and protection. Next, you chopped up the garlic, and sprinkled that in too, to double the effects. Next came the ivy leaves, for eternal life, though in this case, they would grant him life of any kind. Finally, in went the sage for long life.

You stirred the potion for a while, Klaus and Ben watching. Ben had confessed to Klaus, a long time ago when he’d first told his brother of his crush, that he was fascinated when you did witchy things. It was soothing for him to watch. Klaus grinned at the blissed out look on his brother’s face. The Ghost-Seer was really happy things were going to work out, even if Ben didn’t know it just yet.

Once all of the ingredients had been dissolved into the drought, you picked up the socks, which were still giving you the heavy dark vibes of Ben’s once-living self, and let them melt into the pot, using your magic to help them along until they were no more than another part of the thickening potion.

Another hour or so, you were done. You ladled a few bottles of the drought into glass vials for good measure, and then set them on your brewing rack to cool. If one of them broke, you had extras just in case. Then, thinking about it again, you labeled them with a very large note warning the other people in the house not to drink them or they would DIE.

Klaus looked at you with a question from Ben. “He wants to know if they’re poisonous.”

“No, but I would kill someone if they touched them.” You shrugged and washed your hands in the sink. “You guys have any plans tomorrow at midnight?”

“Do we ever have plans that don’t involve you?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” You laughed. “Meet me in the entrance hall under the skylight.”

Klaus grinned. “We’ll be there.”

***

The hour was steadily approaching. You lined up all twelve of the candles you’d bought in a large circle right under the skylight and lit their little flickering flames one by one with the tip of your finger.

Fire.

Next, you plucked the petals off of the dozens of daffodils you’d bought and sprinkled them into the ring of flames. You felt Ben lingering in the doorway as you did it. The whole house was getting darker, the lights dimmer and dimmer as the witching hour drew nearer. Once the ring was complete, it flashed with light before dying back down.

Earth.

You took off your shoes and socks, letting your bare feet touch the cold white tiles, and as soon as you did, you lost the need to stay grounded to the floor below you, your form beginning to float a few inches in the air. In all the time Ben had spent with you, he’d never seen you do this before. He supposed you were full of all kinds of tricks he didn’t know about.

Air.

The final step would have to wait just a few more minutes, until the clock chimed and the moon was directly overhead.

“What’s going on in here?” Klaus’ gorilla of a brother made himself known and you turned to face him, still drifting in the air.

“I’m doing a spell. It’s important. Please don’t disturb it.”

“I don’t think that’s in our best interest.” Luther bristled, taking a few hulking steps forward.

“KLAUS!” You hollered up the stairs, and a few seconds later, he came down, looking at you with wide eyes.

“You’re floating.”

“Yeah. Explain to your brother the importance of this spell. We’ve only got a few minutes before-” You went silent, centering yourself in the middle of the ring, your legs criss-crossed and your body bobbing ever so gently in the air.

Klaus took Luther aside and explained to him very quietly and desperately just important what you were doing was, and defying all of his expectations, Luther actually listened, standing off to the side with the rest of the confused Hargreeves siblings.

Once the clock struck the first time, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. You poured the droplets of the Drought of Life into the air and the droplets floated around you, as unaffected by gravity as you were. You molded them into the base of the ring, using your energy to push the concoction in place. As soon as the ring was complete, the water extended upwards, expanding like a wall of water, translucent as a waterfall, and through the shimmery surface, you could see Ben there, in all of his glory, looking on at you in awe and confusion.

“Ben.” You looked at him, locking eyes with him. You reached out to him, motioning him forward.

“Me?”

“Take my hands. Do you trust me?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, trying to figure out what spell you could possibly be casting that involved him. “O-of course I trust you.”

“Then come here.”

Slowly, he did, taking unsure steps forward until he was standing in front of the wall of water dividing you from him. You let your legs down out of your criss-crossed position and held out your arms for him to take. Tentatively, he reached through the water and took your hands on the other side of it, solid touching solid.

“Come on, buddy…” Klaus murmured, watching as Ben took a step through. And then another. And then another until he had crossed over entirely.

“W-what…” Ben looked down at you in disbelief, unable to put together a string of words. “What did you do?”

Instead of answering, you broke the ring and let the water fall, putting the candles out. Once everything settled, you were standing in the center of the room, looking up at Ben as all of his siblings watched.

“Oh my God…” Allison whispered, eyes watering. “Ben?”

He turned to look at his siblings, who for the first time in ever, were all looking back at him. His eyes widened. “You...I...am I-?”

“Alive? Yes. Yes you are.” Klaus grinned, rushing up to his brother first, as soon as you helped him step out of the broken ring. He hugged him tightly. “Welcome back.”

“I just...I can’t believe it.” Ben whispered, looking at his hands. They didn’t LOOK any different, and yet, somehow, they were. He decided to put them to the test, reaching out to grab your shoulders. Immediately, he made contact with the fabric of his own hoodie, and he pulled you to his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Thank you so much…”

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, finally starting to feel the exhaustion of all of the energy you’d burned up. You started drooping like a wilting daffodil, only for Ben to scoop you up in his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips. Your head rested heavily on his shoulder and you smiled sleepily.

“You okay there, flower?” He asked softly, concern etched in his voice.

“‘M fine…” You hummed. “Just drained...Need...sleep…”

***

You woke up to sunshine the next morning, and an arm around your waist, soft snores in your ear. At first, the drowsiness made you think this was still a dream, that the night before hadn’t happened, but when you turned and found Ben’s warm chest, you knew it must have been real. That this was much too vivid to be imaginary.

When he felt you stirring, he woke up, a smile gracing his features as soon as he saw you curled up in his arms. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” You smiled back, delicate fingers reaching up to trace over the details of his face. “God, you’re so warm…”

“That’s all thanks to you, angel.” He hummed and leaned forward to kiss the crown of your head. “Wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Eh, some witch was bound to meet Klaus and fall in love with his ghost brother. I think it was inevitable, really.”

“Oh definitely.” He chuckled. “But for the record, I’m really glad it was you.”

You smiled and captured his lips with yours, kissing him gently before whispering, “I’m really glad it was me, too.”

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #fluff #non-apocalypse au

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orionsangel86 · 5 years ago

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Vicious Circles - Part 2

(Part 1 Here - Though you don’t need to read that to read this)

Also on AO3

The crunch of Dean’s boots on the dry, scratchy undergrowth of Purgatory’s endless forest had him gritting his teeth. It pierced through the otherwise silent landscape, acting like a beacon to every monster around that dinner was being served. He and Cas had been walking silently for about an hour. Neither had said a word since coming through the portal.

Dean glanced over at his stoic companion. Cas’s expression was firm. His eyes scanning their surroundings, constantly looking for signs of danger. His lips pulled into a grim line of determination. He gripped his blade tightly in his hand and made for an intimidating sight. Cas caught him looking, and they made eye contact for the first time. Dean’s heart skipped a beat in that foolish way that he so often admonished himself for. Cas broke the gaze quickly and sighed.

“You need to watch your steps, Dean. Don’t let your guard down.”

Mildly affronted, and irritated at being caught looking, Dean snapped.

“Maybe you should stop walking so loudly. You’re making enough racket to guide all the monsters right to us!”

Cas rolled his eyes and refused to answer, which only made Dean angrier. His irritation was short-lived, though, when they both heard shuffling over to their left.

In perfect sync Dean and Cas swung around and held up their weapons. Cas flipping his blade impressively whilst Dean gripped his machete.

“Well don’t you both make a pretty sight.”

The familiar voice filled Dean with relief and joy.

“Benny!” He laughed as the vampire emerged from the darkness of the forest. He saw Castiel relax slightly in his peripheral vision but not lower his blade.

“Dean.” Benny chuckled and held out his arms to wrap Dean in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, brother.”

“It’s great to see you too man,” Dean responded brightly.

Castiel stepped forward and nodded politely at the vampire. Benny grinned and clapped Cas on the shoulder.

“So I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you ain’t on vacation? What world-ending disaster has brought you both back to Purgatory?”

Dean chuckled and slapped an arm around Benny’s shoulders. “You wouldn’t believe it if we told you. How did you find us?”

“What you think you’re discreet? The minute you both stepped through that shiny gold portal I could smell you on the other side of the forest!”

“Gee, way to make a guy feel good about himself!”

Dean’s mood had brightened considerably at Benny’s appearance. He walked ahead, catching Benny up on the situation. Cas followed them, remaining quiet and contemplative.

…

Benny knew where the leviathan blossoms grew and was able to guide Dean and Cas to the site without too much trouble from other monsters. They only encountered danger twice on the journey there. Once against a small pack of vamps that were easily taken out, and once against an eldritch nightmare with horrifying barbed tentacles that put Dean off his more exotic pornography collection for life. Luckily Castiel was able to quickly render it incapacitated and they all made a swift escape.

Castiel barely said 5 words the entire journey.

About 3 hours into the trek, Benny pulled Dean aside. Castiel was walking ahead out of earshot, and Dean knew what was coming before Benny had even opened his mouth.

“I know what you’re gonna say. Don’t say it.”

Benny raised his eyebrows.

“I might have missed a lot spending my afterlife in this forest brother, but I know when something ain’t right. Whatever is going on between you two, you need to fix it.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah yeah. Trust me, you’re not the first person we’ve met recently to say the same thing. Even the Queen of Hell wants to meddle in our ‘relationship’.”

“Well I don’t know nothing about no Queen of Hell, but Dean, I ain’t forgotten how hung up on him you were last time. The angel is special to you. So whatever you’ve got going on, you gotta sort it out. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Benny clapped him on the back and picked up his pace. Guess that conversation was over then. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He had been trying to build up the courage to talk to Cas about the whole thing for days now, but no time ever seemed good enough, and Cas was always so damn pissed at him.

Benny had caught up to his disgruntled angel, and they were clearly talking about Dean. Cas’s posture was tense, and he was shaking his head. Dean’s heart sank at the thought that he might be telling Benny what Dean feared most, that Dean had pushed him away for good.

…

Dean hoped they would find this damn flower soon. Time was steadily ticking away, and they still had to make the journey back to the portal. Luckily, they didn’t encounter any further Purgatory residents on the journey, and even though it remained tense between him and Cas, Dean was glad for the peace.

“We’re nearly there brother. Just up ahead. You hear the river?” Benny pointed towards a lighter area through the trees, and Dean listened to the sound of rushing water ahead of him. He nodded and looked at Cas to flash a grin. They were so close now. Cas didn’t return his smile and looked away to continue his trek towards the river bank.

Dean’s face fell as he watched Cas go. Rowena and Benny were right. He had to fix this. With a final glance at Benny, he followed Cas towards the river.

As the trees thinned out, Dean saw the rushing water and the open rocky banks. If this place existed on Earth, it might have been beautiful. Even in Purgatory’s muted grey tones and atmosphere of constant danger, Dean felt at home here. It was pure.

Cas stood by the bank surrounded by the natural beauty and peace that this strange place brought them. Dean had an eerie sense of déjà vu about it. Cas knelt down to dip his hands into the cool water and splash his face, and Dean was overcome with emotion. Seven years had passed since he last stood in a place like this, watching Cas by a riverbank in monster heaven and wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and hold on tight. Seven years and that feeling was just as strong now as it was back then. Dean could forget everything that had happened in the years since, he could push aside his anger, his fear, his troubles. He was done being mad. He just wanted Cas back, wanted him by his side again in whatever way Cas would allow. He was going to fix this if it killed him.

“Cas?” Dean called out, approaching the angel slowly. Cas stood up and turned towards him, holding a strange-looking flower.

“Here,” he said, passing it to Dean. “The leviathan blossom.”

Dean reached out slowly and took the flower. His fingers brushed against Cas’, and he drew in a breath at the tension of the moment. Cas still refused to meet his eye and withdrew his hand quickly. Dean swallowed and tried to ignore his ridiculous thumping heartbeat and the hurt he felt at Cas’ continued coldness towards him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he looked down at the flower. “But you should keep hold of this. I trust you to look after it more than me.” He hesitantly reached out and put a hand on Cas’s shoulder and watched as Cas paused and looked at him suspiciously.

“Alright,” Cas said. He took the flower and put it in a small satchel he had been carrying. It was full of Dean’s things anyway. Water, some snacks, a few knives. He started to head back towards the tree line where Benny was lingering, but Dean caught his arm.

“Cas… can we talk?”

Cas looked at Dean’s hand gripping him and sighed. “We don’t have time for this Dean. We are hours away from the portal and need to get back before it closes.”

“I know. I know we don’t, but we can’t keep going on like this without talking.”

Cas looked at him coldly. “I’m so sorry I’m not a witty conversationalist. I had hoped Benny’s presence might provide you that form of entertainment.” Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and hurt.

“That’s not what I meant!” He snapped. “First Rowena, now even Benny has picked up on it. We have to stow our crap and work together. Get back to the way things used to be. If I can put all that crap behind us, why can’t you?”

Dean knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Cas’s whole demeanour changed. It wasn’t just cold, it was pure rage bubbling beneath the surface. Dean took a step back in anticipation.

“If you honestly think that things will ever be the way they were again just by you demanding my obedience…” Cas growled. “You hurtful, ignorant, stubborn, infuriating ass... If you had ANY IDEA how much I…”

Cas stopped himself. His shoulders drooped and he shook his head. “We’re done here Dean.”

Castiel turned and headed off again at a quick pace. Dean’s heart pounded and his frustration boiled inside him. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. He couldn’t get his words right. He could never get his words right. Feeling dejected and angry, and resenting Cas for not giving him a chance to explain, Dean swung his fist at the nearest tree, grazing his knuckles and causing his hand to throb.

…

The journey back towards the portal was even tenser than the journey there. Benny acted as a buffer between Dean and Cas, trying to start a light-hearted conversation where he could. Castiel wouldn’t even look at Dean, and Dean’s anger and frustration only grew as the hours ticked by.

When the portal’s glow was shining through the tree line, Dean felt relief that this trip was nearly over. He would get another chance to sort things with Cas properly once they had both had time to cool down. He was thankful that this journey had practically gone off without a hitch, and without a single leviathan sighting.

As soon as the thought had crossed his mind, a sharp blow hit the side of his face, and he fell to the ground. The leviathans had found them, and one was currently trying to bite his head off. Dean quickly overpowered the creature and decapitated it with a swing of his blade. He scrambled to his feet to see Cas and Benny both fighting off their own foes.

“RUN!” Dean yelled as he headed off towards the clearing where the portal waited for them. He could see several more leviathans appearing in his peripheral vision and had to pause several times to fight another off.

They made it to the clearing only to find themselves surrounded. Dean, Cas, and Benny stood back to back, each holding up their weapons and sizing up the many leviathans that now had them heavily outnumbered. The portal was barely 20 feet away, but it was blocked by the monstrous pack.

“What the hell do we do now?” Dean asked.

“There’s too many of them! You’ll never make it to the portal in time!” Benny answered unhelpfully.

“We need a distraction, something to clear a path.” Dean looked around but couldn’t see any way out of this mess. “Cas, you got any bright ideas, or you just gonna stand there looking pretty?” Dean snapped.

Castiel turned to glare at him and, Dean immediately regretted his harsh tone. In his fear and anger, he was still taking it out on the one person who deserved it least. He tried to backtrack, but Cas spoke first.

“As a matter of fact Dean, yes. I do. Perhaps now I can finally be of use to you.” His words stung, and Dean’s face dropped, his heart jumping into his throat.

“Cas – I didn’t mean…”

“Here.” Cas thrust the bag containing the leviathan blossoms into Dean’s hands. Leaving no room for argument. “Get to the portal. It’s me they want. Go home. Stop Chuck.” Cas’ voice was harsh and cold. He glared at Dean, but through the anger, Dean could see the regret in his eyes. It suddenly dawned on Dean just what he was planning.

“No! Cas wait!” But Cas had already turned away. He held out his hand and closed his eyes, summoning his grace with all his strength. Dean had to shield his eyes as the bright white light of Cas’ grace lit up the clearing, sending a powerful pulse straight at the approaching leviathans. It obliterated most of them, leaving the rest knocked to the ground.

When the light finally dimmed, Cas was gasping for breath and swaying on the spot. If what Cas had told him previously was correct, then he was now practically powerless. Dean glanced back at Benny who had just managed to shield his eyes in time.

“Dean…” Benny warned. “Not that I’m not grateful to feathers, but that didn’t get all of them, look.”

Dean glanced around at the leviathans who hadn’t been destroyed by Cas’s grace. They were quickly coming around and getting to their feet. Beyond them more eyes appeared in the dark of the forest, more of Purgatory's monsters had come to join the fight.

Dean’s eyes widened in horror. He ran over to Cas and grabbed his shoulders, supporting him. Cas pushed him back.

“You need to go.” He demanded. Dean shook his head.

“WE need to go Cas.”

Cas looked around at the approaching monsters and huffed a laugh.

“It’s ironic isn’t it? That after everything, it would all end here.”

Dean furrowed his brow and Cas explained.

“When we were here before, Dean. You fought to save me, and I didn’t want to be saved. It’s funny how things change.”

The leviathans had crept beyond the tree line now. Benny looked on nervously but Dean couldn’t focus on anything but Cas. Cas’ expression was calm and it chilled Dean to his core.

“Do you know what my biggest regret is?” Cas said sadly. He looked up at Dean, blue eyes piercing into his soul. “My biggest regret is letting you down.”

Dean felt the breath leave his lungs. Cas turned away, unable to look at Dean for more than a moment.

“You haven’t prayed to me in so long. I lost your trust, I lost your faith. Any love you once had for me is gone.”

Each word settled in Dean’s heart like a knife. It was all wrong. How could Cas think this? How could he have been so stupid to let Cas believe ANY of this?

“No…” He breathed, feeling his eyes stinging as Cas turned back to face the hoards of leviathans and other monsters that crept ever closer.

“I’m not doing this for you Dean. I’m doing it because you have a chance to stop Chuck.”

At that moment, a silence settled over them. Even the leviathans seemed to pause and listen to what Castiel had to say. Dean held his breath. He wasn’t sure his heart could take much more. Cas’s face was sad, his eyes full of sorrow.

“I’m already dead to you.” He practically whispered the words, voice breaking as he spoke. Dean clenched his jaw. His own poisonous words from that terrible day vibrating in his head.

“This I do for me. Because I am done... I can’t look at your face and see your anger and disappointment anymore... It hurts too much.”

Cas finally looked up again, and Dean saw him visibly force his face back to stoic indifference, but the truth, the weight of the words was already clear. Dean had broken Castiel’s heart too many times, and now Cas was returning the favour without even realising.

“I told you once that I loved you…That will always be true.”

Castiel paused and looked up at the endless grey sky. A small, sad smile on his face. He looked at Dean one last time, and Dean knew that he had lost him for good. The look shattered Dean’s heart and filled his veins with ice as all the years of pain and regret showed on Cas’ face.

“Goodbye Dean.”

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Dean could do nothing but watch in horror as Castiel turned away and walked up to the leviathans. Holding his angel blade high.

“That’s right you sons of bitches.” He yelled at the ravenous creatures. “You’ve had your show, now come and get me!”

Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest. He felt like he was moments away from a full-on panic attack. He gulped in a breath and moved to follow Cas, but Benny pulled him back.

“Benny! Let me go! I need to stop this! CAS! Cas, you’re wrong! CAS PLEASE STOP!” But it was too late. The leviathans had moved to surround the angel, leaving Dean and Benny’s path free to get to the portal.

“Dean! You have to go NOW!” Benny yelled at him.

Dean fought to get back to Cas, but Benny was too strong. The portal pulsed, the indicator that time was running out. The leviathans pounced on their target, overpowering Castiel even though he was clearly putting up a decent fight. Dean stared in horror as one managed to bite into Cas’ shoulder, ripping through his trench coat and drenching it with blood.

“CAS!” Dean screamed. “CAS NO! COME BACK!” He couldn’t even see the angel now through the crowd of monsters that had jumped him. He turned to Benny, who was stricken with terror. “Benny please! I have to tell him. I can’t lose him again. Not like this… not like this…”

Dean was shaking as tears were falling down his cheeks. He couldn’t even care that Benny had seen all this… that Benny knew. Benny pulled him towards the portal, forcing Dean to look away from the horrific feast.

“You have to go Dean, you have no more time. He’s already gone.”

Dean shook his head.

“I can’t Benny… I… I love him…”

It was the first time he had ever said the words out loud, and it stung more than anything else he had witnessed today.

Benny’s face was full of sympathy. “I know Dean. But love doesn’t bring people back from the dead.”

They both turned back to see the leviathans now shredding the bloody trench coat. Leviathans didn’t leave remains, even angels couldn’t fight off that many. Dean’s whole world had turned upside down. Cas was gone. He was dead.

Benny managed to hold Dean up just in time before his legs gave way. The tears were streaming fully, and Benny pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry brother. I’m so sorry. But you HAVE to go NOW.”

Dean gasped a breath into Benny’s shoulder and managed to stand upright.

“What about you?” he asked.

Benny smiled sadly.

“I like a fight. Besides, if they get me I’ll just reappear in some other part of the forest. Monster heaven remember? Hell, I’ve already been ripped to shreds enough times to know that’s the case now. Sadly I don’t think the same can be said for your angel.”

Dean swallowed down the pain and took one last look at the space where Cas had fought. Most of the leviathans had run off into the forest, content with getting revenge on the angel that once trapped them. The few that remained had finally noticed him and Benny and were eyeing up their next meal already.

Dean wiped his eyes and clapped Benny on the shoulder.

“Go. Run.”

“Goodbye Brother.”

Dean reached out to touch the portal. With a flash, he was back in the bunker, the door to Purgatory once again sealed shut.

He dropped to his knees and sobbed.

TO BE CONTINUED…

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel fanfiction #destiel fic #fanfiction #my fics #season 15 #15x09 #post 15x08 #canon!verse #coda fic #benny lafitte #what happens in purgatory #angst fic #very very angsty fic #with an unhappy ending

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monochromemedic · 5 years ago

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After the Dam Breaks

The Mojave. Unforgiving, harsh, hot... My friends have all been gone, going their own way. I stood there with my remaining companions, the sniper and the medic. “What are you going to do? Have you finally thought about what you’re going to do next Jenna?” Arcade asked, crossing his arms and sighing, already knowing the answer. I didn’t look at him, my eyes looking down at my boots. “No... you already know I got no where to go, and my memory isn’t coming back. I’d... go back and maybe try to see if I have a family or if I had anyone back there but... I feel like I’ll just be disappointing in the end or if there’s a way to track back to where i’m from.” “You could always check in with the Mojave Express. See if there’s any clues there-” “You know there’s not. I already checked it’s... vague nothingness. “ Arcade shifted a bit, looking to Boone who was staring off in the distance, at the lights of the Strip behind him. “Well.. like I said you’re always free to come with the Followers. You know we can always use someone like you around, and everyone there likes you.” “...Yeah. But you’re traveling away, away from the Mojave from everyone else.” “Everyone’s leaving, you need to decide.” Arcade was firm, his voice growing more serious. “We all know we want what’s best for you but, people come... people go. You can’t expect us all to stay together, especially our rag tag team. We all stuck together to help you take down Benny and help the Hoover Dam situation but now that that’s over... we all have things to do. Things to accomplish. We can’t stay around here forever, not when everything is starting to calm down and there’s a hundred other places that need help. Besides, it’s hot and honestly i’m getting real tired of sweating through every pair of clothes I have.” I gave a somber smile before sighing, looking over at Boone. He was dressed in his NCR gear, messing with the strap on his shoulder. “What about you Boone? Going... back to the NCR?” I asked “Yeah. I guess. Either that or try to do some bodyguard work around here.” “...The NCR did bad things Boone, I mean things that... the whole... Springs thing. And you want to go back and try to... help them? Aren’t you worried about that sort of thing?” “Maybe. But where else am I suppose to go. To Novac? NCR’s all I remember.” Arcade only groaned, shaking his head and giving a disbelieving laugh. “Up until the end, the two of you... can’t decide for yourselves. Unbelievable. Listen... um... I’ll be at the Fort for a few more days before heading out East. Jenna if you’d... like to join me you’re always welcome. Boone. You’ve... been... a good man.” He awkwardly muttered before walking away, leaving the two of us alone. I turned to the Lucky 38, watching the neon sign flicker in the setting sun, and feeling pangs of sadness fill my chest. “Can you believe it? It’s all over. And now we don’t know what to do. Well... maybe you do... you at least got a place to head to... a home but...” I closed my eyes, grabbing my hair and tugging on it. It was getting long, long as it had been since the bullet. “Do you remember? When we first met? You scared the shit out of me that night when I checked the Dino. And you asked me who I was and if I could help you. I was so nervous, so scared, so... damn unsure of everything. I had no one. I was alone in the desert just struggling to get my footing again. But I did it. I helped you get closure and I earned some sense of trust in you. It seems so long ago but it wasn’t... was it?” “I owe you for that... still. And Bitter Springs. If it weren’t for you doing that stuff for me, i’d probably be in a ditch somewhere. Maybe still in that damn dinosaur.” “Haha... yeah. That wasn’t that funny I just- i’m being awkward.” “I know.” A pregnant silence filled the air, the Strip quiet as if everyone there was holding their breath and waiting for our conversation to continue. “I don’t want you to go Craig.” Boone turned his head towards me, eyebrows furrowing as I gently touched his hand. I could feel my face starting to redden, my eyes getting wet and my lump in my throat growing. “Out of everyone I met, for some reason I don’t want you to go the most. I mean I know why and I think you know why but even if it weren’t for that you still mean so much to me... the thought of you leaving is-is... I can’t see it. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to FEEL it.”

The tears began to run down my cheeks and I quickly wiped them away, gritting my teeth and forcing a laugh out. “Truth is i’ll probably go with Arcade but the fact that I won’t be able to see you again is tearing me apart inside. And I just want to ask if I could come with you. Or you could come with me and Arcade! I just don’t want to go solo again. Craig... I love you so much. I know it’s a real asshole thing of me to do especially after... but if this is the last time i’ll see you, I just need you know.” Slowly Boone pulled my hand to his chest, holding it tightly as he closed his eyes in thought. It seemed like he had a lot on his mind and was trying to think of the right way to talk about it. “It still hurts when I think about her. I still feel sick to my stomach and think I don’t deserve alot of things. You make me feel... less... so. But it feels wrong. I... don’t know how to feel, how to put things into words. But I guess i’d be lying if I didn’t say I had some sort of feelings for you too.” My eyes widened and I grabbed his others hand, lacing our fingers together and pushing myself closer to him. “Then please... we don’t have to be alone, you don’t have to go back to the NCR... we could... do something together I-I don’t know what but we could just be the two of us. Hell if you wanted to go back to the NCR I’d follow you Craig. It’s ok if your not ready or if you... might never be I just, can we just give it a shot? Can we not break up the squad for a little longer. You know how bad of a shot I am without you.” I laughed, taking his hand up my face and kissing his rough fingers. Another long silence from Boone before he answered, shifting his stance nervously. “Suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll go with you where ever you wanna go. You’ve never steered me wrong so far. As for the... other thing I know things might not change alot, knowing me. I’m still struggling with alot. So I guess just be aware, im not some teddy bear.” I laughed harder, pressing my forehead against his and smiling wide, wider then I had in a long while. “I’ll be patient. You’re worth it. I think... maybe we should travel with Arcade, help some people out and if we see any more legionary wannabe’s we could do what we always do.” “I’d like that.” There was a tension in the air, and being so close to Boone’s face just made it obvious I wanted to kiss him. Everything was going so great, things seemed to finally make sense again when I thought things were slowly slipping from my fingers. I closed the gap, pressing my lips against his, causing him to make a soft surprised grunt before eventually returning the kiss back. He returned it. He didn’t push me away, he didn’t yell at me... he kissed back, just ever so slightly. It was enough to make my head ring and I pulled away, my head hurting and my nose beginning to bleed from he wound Benny put in my head. High tension situations ever since then made me bleed. “I feel like i’m gonna pass out i’m... so happy haha... oh shit I’m seeing stars.” “Please don’t.” He huffed, taking my arms and supporting me as we began to walk towards the gates of the Strip and out to Freeside, making our way towards Fort Mormon. “I can’t help it. I’m just... happy. For once things are looking up. Things don’t feel like their going to shit I feel good Boone. I feel alive.” “You’re bleeding alot so maybe feel less alive.” “Heheh... we’ll we’re heading to Arcade, you know he can patch me up. It’ll just be a happy surprise for him, a thank you gift. ‘Surprising, we’re both coming, make sure I don’t bleed out!’ He loves it, he loves patching me up it’ll be so homey.” I could just make out the smallest of grins on Boone’s face, which only made more blood come out as he stifled a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Real homey.”

#fallout nv #fallout nv boone #self insert #arcade gannon #craig boone

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mercurysnitch · 5 years ago

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Mother Mercury, Part 1

Summary: Ben meets a mysterious young wardrobe assistant with a startling resemblance to Freddie Mercury on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. Is it just a coincidence, or could Freddie’s legacy have included a very large secret?

Author’s note: Surprise! This is the first part of the Ben x OC story I’ve been working on for a little while. I was planning to only make it a oneshot, but the plot’s a bit too complicated. This was born from an idea I had while home alone one day that sparked several hours of furious typing (I tend to follow the muse when it strikes, if I have time of course). It’s taken me a while to get this together because I changed my mind about some major aspects of the plot after I’d already started writing, which meant a lot of reworking of what was already there. I have parts of the rest of the story written, but it’s really just snippets at the moment, so I’m not sure when the next part will be up. I’d like to get it done while I’m on uni break this week, but I’ve got a lot of other stuff to do as well so I can’t make any promises. FYI, at this point I’m planning 3 to 4 parts, but that might change as I write more of it.

It’s not actually explained in this part, but this whole story basically hinges on Freddie Mercury having accidentally gotten a woman pregnant during a drug-fuelled party back in the late 70s. If you’re not comfortable with that idea, that’s fine, but stop reading now. I don’t want to give too much away here because things will be explained more in the next part (though it won’t be explicit), but rest assured Freddie in this story is still “gay as a daffodil.” For the record, I personally believe Freddie may have been biromantic, but in this story he’s essentially ‘gay but also things happened while I was high,’ and those things resulted in a lovechild. Remember this is fiction, and sometimes certain things just need to happen for the overall plot to work.

Warnings: Writing about real people, allusions to teen pregnancy, sudden POV switch near the end

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Ben ran over and launched himself at the dark-haired, denim-clad figure from behind. “You absolute bastard! Why did you-". The petite figure jumped and turned around. “What the- oh hi Ben.” The girl’s yell trailed off when she realised who had just jumped on her. Ben was stunned. “Oh my God, I am so sorry" he babbled, "I thought you were Rami in costume.” “It’s ok” she reassured him. “I think I should have worn a different jacket, I’ve been getting that all day.” “Well you do look a lot like him from behind” Ben commented. “But not from the front?” the girl questioned, smiling slightly. Ben shook his head. “No, from the front you look like… Freddie.” The girl raised an eyebrow. “That surprises you?” “No, it’s just… you look so much like Freddie you could practically be a makeup reference" Ben explained. "It’s… a little weird, to be perfectly honest.” There was an awkward pause. “So what do you do here? You working?” Ben asked finally. “Wardrobe assistant" she told him. "Not bad for my first proper job.” Ben smiled. “Not bad at all” he agreed.

A sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait, how do you know my name? We've never met before." The girl smiled. "You're one of the stars. Everyone here knows who you are." Ben looked sheepish. "I'm not used to being a star" he muttered. "Hey, why haven't I seen you around yet?" "I'm low down the chain" the girl explained. "I've mostly been dressing extras and keeping stuff in order, they don't let the underlings near the big names." "I'm not…" Ben protested feebly. He really didn't feel like a big star, not yet anyway. The girl smiled again. "You are here." Ben just shook his head. "Speaking of names" he said smoothly, "I haven't caught yours yet." "Mel" she replied. Ben smiled. "Lovely."

Mel saw a lot of Ben after that, not always intentionally. The very next day they ran into each other at the catering tent during the lunch break. Ben grinned when he spotted her dark hair weaving through the tables. "Freddie clone! Good to see you again." Mel smiled back. "You too." She filled her plate and went to leave, but Ben stopped her. "You meeting anyone?" Mel was confused. "No?" "Come and eat with us then" he offered. Mel considered it. Spending time with a blonde hunk was tempting of course, but then again they were supposed to be working together. No one had specifically told her not to socialise with the actors while on set, but she got the impression it wasn't really encouraged. Then again, what harm would one lunch do? She smiled. "Alright then." Ben beamed at her agreement. "Follow me."

He led her over to a table already occupied by two blokes apparently deep in conversation. One was tall and lanky, his face obscured by an enormous curly wig. That must be Gwilym, Mel thought, with his Brian May hair on. The other was smaller and paler, his head also covered by a long auburn wig. Joe, Mel realised, dressed as a pre-perm John Deacon. "I still think my hair is worse" Joe pouted. "You don't suffocate under it every day" Gwilym replied. "You didn't have to get a perm though" Joe pointed out. "Alright, you win" Gwilym laughed. Ben cleared his throat. "Gentlemen." "Benny boy" Joe responded. Ben groaned. "That's Joe" he told Mel, indicating the redhead. "The tall one's Gwilym. This is Mel" he introduced. "From wardrobe." "Pleasure" Gwilym replied instantly, as Ben and Mel sat down.

Joe eyed Mel up from the seat opposite her. "Say, Mel, how d'you feel about perms?" Gwilym sighed. "Joe, don't." "Why not?" Joe protested. Gwilym turned to face Mel. "Sorry to be nosy, but how old are you, love?" "21" Mel told him. Gwilym shifted back to look at Joe, whose face had suddenly blanched. "That's why not. Couldn't you tell she was too young for you?" Joe shrugged. "It's hard sometimes. Sorry Mel" he added sheepishly. She smiled. "It's alright, I would have turned you down anyway." "Why?" Joe whined, pretending to be upset. Mel grinned mischievously. "You're nearly the same age as my mum." Joe looked bewildered. "How is that even possible… unless-oh." Joe's eyes widened and he fell silent as the realisation hit.

"Where's Rami?" Ben asked, diving in to change the subject before the awkwardness consumed them all. "With Lucy" Joe told him, giggling. Mel was confused. "Wait, so are they a thing now?" Gwilym grinned mischievously. "They refuse to admit it, but yes." "Naww, that's cute" Mel cooed. Ben snorted. "It'd be cuter if they'd stop bloody hiding, it's not like everyone else can't tell they're mad for each other.” Rami and Lucy were clearly very preoccupied because neither of them appeared for the rest of the half hour Mel was allotted for her lunch break. By the end of it she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to go, and her dining companions definitely didn’t want to see her leave.

Ben was unusually quiet as he watched her wend her way back across the set to the wardrobe truck. This did not escape his friends’ notice. “Earth to Ben? You still with us, mate?” Ben jumped slightly as Gwilym’s voice finally dragged his attention back to his castmates. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” “About Mel” Joe explained, grinning slightly at his friend’s obvious distraction. “Right, yeah” Ben muttered. “Don’t you think she looks like Freddie?” he added, slightly breathless. Joe and Gwilym glanced at each other. “Yes,” the Welshman replied exasperatedly, “that’s what we’ve been discussing since we left.” “Sorry” Ben mumbled sheepishly. “You agree though?” “Yep” Joe nodded. “It’s kinda scary almost.” “We were wondering how that might have happened,” Gwilym explained, “but it’s probably just a coincidence.” “Probably” Ben agreed.

Suddenly Joe grinned deviously. “But that’s not as important as the fact that Ben is clearly into her.” “I am not!” Ben protested, but it was no use. “Oh, you are, you hardly looked anywhere else while she was here" Gwilym countered, grinning mischievously. "And you've been staring at her arse since she left the table.” Ben immediately blushed. "I was not" he grumbled. "He's blushing! Benny's got a cru-ush" Joe teased in a sing-song voice. Ben rolled his eyes. "Hypocrite. You cracked onto her the minute she sat down." Joe looked mildly wounded, but merely shrugged in response. "Well she is pretty, y'know." "Yeah, Ben knows" Gwilym quipped. Ben just groaned in frustration. But he couldn't help thinking Joe wasn't wrong. Not at all.

Lunch with Mel became a regular feature of Ben's day over the next few weeks. Their schedules didn't always match, but they managed to spend that break time together significantly more often than not. Ben was generally accompanied by the rest of "the band," as they called themselves, and sometimes Allen, but Rami and Lucy were usually absent owing to different schedules. Or so they claimed, anyway. Lucy appeared at the band's lunch table for the first time about a week after Mel's first lunch with them, and she took to Mel immediately. "It's so nice to have another woman to balance out this lot" she confided. But Rami didn't join them for over a fortnight, and his reaction was something Mel wouldn't forget in a hurry.

Rami's jaw dropped when he saw the dark-haired girl sat next to Ben. "Uhh… who is this?" Joe smirked. "Nice of you to finally join us for once." Rami rolled his eyes. "I've been busy, ok?" "Sure…" Joe teased. Ben cleared his throat. "Rami, this is Mel, from wardrobe. Mel this is-" She cut him off with a nudge of his shoulder. "I know who he is Ben, I do work here y'know." "Nice to meet you" Rami cut in. "By the way, has anyone ever told you look like Freddie Mercury?" Mel barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "A lot of people on this set have" she replied, trying not to sound too annoyed. "If you don't mind me asking, how do you do it?" Rami asked excitedly. Mel shrugged. "I don't really do anything. I suppose I'm just lucky." Rami chuckled quietly. "Very."

Suddenly Mel stood up from the table. "This has been lovely as always, but I need to get back to work" she declared. "Rami it was lovely finally meeting you. I'll see you all tomorrow, gents." She left the table to a chorus of 'see you later's. As soon as she was out of earshot Rami turned to the others. "Is she… she must be related to Freddie, right?" he asked eagerly. "We don't know" Joe sighed. "It might just be a coincidence" Gwilym pointed out. Rami snorted. "No way. She's the spitting image, and she sounds like him? She has to be related, the question is how." Ben looked at Rami curiously. "Does she really sound like Freddie?" he asked wonderingly. "I hadn't noticed." Rami stared incredulously at the blond. "Are you deaf or something?" "No, he's just distracted cause he thinks she's hot" Joe quipped. Rami suddenly grinned mischievously. "Oh, so that's the girl he's crazy about" he teased. Ben groaned. "Aww, not you too."

Rami's comment caused the others to tease Ben good-naturedly for the rest of the break, but his own mind was elsewhere. Mel's resemblance to Freddie was too strong to be a mere coincidence, he thought. It had to come from shared DNA. But most likely she was a distant cousin or something. She was much too young to have been his actual child, Freddie died before she was even thought of. Besides, even when he was alive Freddie never had kids, right?

Rami initially dismissed the whole idea out of hand, but something about it nagged at him for the rest of the day. He was sure he'd read something that referred to Freddie and kids during his preparation for Bohemian Rhapsody, but he couldn't remember what or where he'd found it. It wasn't until he finally got back to the pile of research in his hotel room that night that he managed to dig up an answer.

A couple of articles published in the first months after Freddie died both said similar things. 'There are whispers Freddie even fathered a lovechild around the time Queen hit the peak of their fame, at the turn of the 80s, but this has never been proven.' 'Some rumours go as far as to suggest Freddie had a secret lovechild hidden away, the result of a drug-fuelled encounter during his partying years, but those now appear to be almost entirely unfounded.' Clearly no one really thought the rumours were anything more than old gossip back then. But what if they were actually true? That would mean… it would mean Freddie had a child, somewhere out in the world. Except Mel couldn't be that child, Rami thought, she was too young. But if Freddie's child was born in the late 70s, like the rumours said, they would have been old enough to have their own child by the time Mel was born 21 years ago. Rami gasped as a sudden realisation hit. If the rumours were true, and he was right about Mel being related to Freddie, that could mean Freddie Mercury's grandchild was working on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody.

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This is a bit different to what I’ve written previously, so please let me know what you think!

I’m going to use my old (it’s basically permanent now I guess) taglist for now, but let me know if you want to be added. Or if you want to be taken off for this story, that’s fine too, just drop me an ask or dm.

Taglist: @wandering-at-midnight @fruityfreddie @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @theedwardscollection @bookish-oreo @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @closertothesunwhenimwithyou @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr

(crossed out tags didn’t work, I’ll take them off next time if they still don’t work)

#ben hardy x oc #ben hardy imagine #queen fic #freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury fic #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #joe mazzello imagine #rami malek imagine #gwilym lee imagine

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