#i did spend a Bit of my life on this. for certain. check it out if it sounds cool

[racing-stripes]

goodmorning josh/alex nation

Summary:

Hair falls in Alex's face again and obscures the words on his notebook, breaking his concentration and his spirit. “That’s it,” he fumes aloud, slamming his notebook shut. “I’m cutting all my hair off.” “Don’t,” says Josh, not looking up from fiddling with the levels. “I like it, suits you.” Alex nods even though Josh isn’t looking at him. Yeah, okay. He twirls a strand around his finger. Maybe he could keep it. - Writer's block, long hair, shared cigarettes, and a gaudy LA house party come together to create an electrifying tension between Alex and his producer-slash-idol, Joshua Homme. There's nothing like a photobooth and two rolls of film to make certain things come to light.

[punkshort]

In Another Life | Part III

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: It's your last day together with Marcus and you're going to make it count.

Chapter Warnings: language, SO much angst, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, food consumption, time travel?

WC: 6.3K

A/N: thank you @txtattoostark for beta'ing ❤️

Series Masterlist

Time stood still when you looked at your phone the following morning, you were certain of it.

The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.

The words left a pit in your stomach, making you feel sick. How didn't you think this through? What happened between you was fast, sure, but not one time the night before did you pause to think how hurt you were going to be when Marcus left.

It wasn't like he was going to a different state or country. He would be gone for good. Never again would you know the feel of his lips or hear the deep rumble of his voice.

"Good morning," Marcus said from behind you, slipping his arms around your waist while you cooked eggs for breakfast. You flipped your phone over and turned around in his arms, pressing a firm kiss to his lips that lingered to the point where the eggs burned a little, but it was worth it.

You hadn't checked your phone until he went to the bathroom to wash up and you had breakfast underway, but you had already decided not to tell him. If you didn't speak it into existence, then maybe it wasn't real.

"Good morning," you said shyly, giving him one last quick peck on the lips before scooping eggs and sausage onto plates for you both.

"Was your superior quite angry with you?" he asked while he attempted to help you with the toast but ended up burning his fingertips.

You shook your head and picked up both plates to take to your small kitchen table.

"Nah, I never call in sick," you told him with a smile. "Besides the park, what did you want to see today?"

He settled next to you at the table, one hand dropping casually to rest on your leg while he picked up his fork with the other. "To me it does not matter, so long as it is with you."

You grinned and felt your cheeks warm. "You know, you said you didn't have much experience with romance in your life but you could have fooled me. Every word you say is romantic."

He chuckled and dropped his gaze to his plate, feeling a bit shy. "Does simply wishing to spend time with a lover make one a romantic?"

You shrugged and nodded. "Kind of. At least, in my experience."

Marcus hummed and leaned over to press a kiss against your temple. "We must change that, my lady."

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, turning to lock your lips with his. His grip on your thigh tightened when he heard the little noise escape from the back of your throat and you squirmed in your seat. "Well, you've changed a lot, already," you said breathlessly when you finally pulled away. He grinned and leaned forward to chase your lips, making you giggle and toss your arms around his neck.

Before you even had a chance to register the noise, the front door unlocked and swung open.

"Morning! Why are you still - oh, gross," Danny said when he turned from closing the door and saw the two of you intertwined.

Marcus withdrew his arms from around you and stood solemnly with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Daniel, I apologize," he said, his voice deep. "Courtesy demands I request permission from a lady's father, or in this case, closest living male relative, before pursuing her. I hope you can forgive me for my transgression." Marcus bowed his head and you quickly stood up, waving your hands in between them.

"No, no, no, you do not need my little brother's permission, Marcus," you told him. Danny folded his arms together and stifled a laugh.

"I don't know, Sis, I think he's onto something. Maybe if more guys went through me, you wouldn't be left on read so much."

"Shut up, Danny!" you seethed, fists clenched at your sides.

Marcus just looked back and forth between you, trying to keep up.

"I'm just kidding! Marcus, it's totally fine," Danny said, clapping him on the shoulder before slipping into the kitchen for your leftovers. "If you really want to spend your last day in the twentieth century with my sister, don't let me stop you. I mean, personally, I would have picked the girl who works at the Java Hut, or maybe the one at the comic book store..."

Both of you tuned him out when Marcus absorbed what he said.

"My... last day?" he questioned. You swallowed and nodded.

"He texted me last night but I didn't see it til you were in the shower," you said quietly, gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."

"Oh," he said softly, eyebrows pinching together in thought. And just like that, the fun, playful mood between the two of you vanished only to be replaced with despair.

"We can still do exactly what we said we would do," you assured him while Danny kept talking to himself in the kitchen, adding to the long list of people he would rather spend his last day with other than you.

"Of course," Marcus replied, but you could see the distant look in his eye. It was probably the same one you had when you first read Danny's text.

"Let's just... enjoy what time we have left."

He nodded and inhaled sharply, avoiding your eye while he processed everything he had just learned, both of you too nervous to say what you really wanted to say.

"Why aren't you working?" Danny asked, emerging from the kitchen with a piece of buttered toast.

"I called in sick."

He nodded, not even questioning it before heading to his room. "I'm gonna get some shut eye and head back over to Lizard's later. Gotta run a few diagnostic tests before we send you home, General."

His words were like taking a bullet. Appetite suddenly gone, you sunk down into your chair and tried not to let your emotions show but he must have sensed it because Marcus was sitting down next to you with one arm around your shoulders and the other on your thigh.

"We still have today, cor mea."

You sniffled and leaned into his shoulder, hiding your face against his neck. "You said that yesterday, too. What does it mean?"

You felt his lips on the top of your head before he answered.

"It means, my heart."

Tears stung your eyes so you quickly closed them, doing your very best to remember everything about that moment. The way he smelled, all fresh from his shower, the roughness of his hand against your skin, the sound of his heart beating soundly in his broad chest.

Don't go, you wanted to beg. Please stay with me. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Was it ridiculous to want a man you just met to leave everything behind and stay with you? In a world he knew nothing about? Even if you did ask and by some miracle he agreed, would you be able to make him happy? Would this world make him happy?

No, you couldn't ask that of him. He had a whole life waiting for him in Ancient Rome.

You took a deep breath and reluctantly extracted yourself from his arms.

"Okay," you said, quickly swiping at your eye. "Let's go check out the park and once we're done, we'll see what else you want to do."

He nodded, helping you clean up from breakfast while pretending not to notice how red your eyes looked, but by the time you were both ready to leave your apartment, you had collected yourself. You refused to spend your last day together wallowing in misery.

You were going to make sure it was perfect.

"This place is magnificent," Marcus said breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the rich greenery surrounding you while dodging tourists laughing and posing for pictures. Nearby, bicyclists and joggers zipped by and dogs barked, pulling at their leashes to get at one another while their owners struggled to rein them in but as far as the two of you were concerned, you were the only ones there.

"C'mon, this way," you said, looping your arm with his and leading him off a different path. The smile was permanently stretched across his face the entire time, especially when you had to come to an unexpected stop so a carriage led by a massive Clydesdale could pass by on the trail.

"That horse looks double the size of the horses back home," he remarked in awe when you resumed walking.

"There's all sorts of different breeds," you explained, "we'll probably see a few more before we leave."

You could hear water trickling and you grinned when you looked up at him. "Almost there."

When you finally emerged from your shaded trail to view the massive fountain, Marcus couldn't believe his eyes. He skid to a stop and just stared in wonder at the shallow water surrounded by people eating lunch, families taking pictures, couples sitting close together and children running and playing. Slowly, his gaze drifted around the wide open space, taking in every feature, every flower, every stunning piece of architecture until you finally tugged on his elbow.

"It's called the Bethesda Fountain," you said, pointing to the statue in the middle. "It's an angel, see?"

He nodded, eyes wide with wonder. "She is... beautiful," he whispered, looking like he was in complete awe of the stone statue of the angel draped in long robes with widespread wings behind her, looking over the entire park.

"I think she's holding her arm out as a symbol to bless the waters," you told him, pulling him closer so you could read some of the signage.

"This place is wonderful," he told you, twisting around so he didn't miss a thing. "I cannot believe a place like this exists in such a busy and thriving metropolis."

"Yeah, it is really amazing, isn't it?" you replied. You had lived in New York for so long that you realized you had grown numb to some of its wonder, but seeing it through Marcus's eyes felt like you were seeing it for the first time again.

"You are fortunate to live here," he said, finally looking down at you. "I have never seen a place so grand and spectacular in all my life."

You grinned and stretched up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Looks a lot better with you here," you said with a wink, and you swore you saw his face flush a bit.

The pair of you found an empty bench and sat down for a while. You leaned your head on his shoulder and he hooked an arm around you as you quietly watched the city pass you by.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he murmured as he nuzzled the top of your head. You titled your face up to give him a smile.

"I think this is the most fun I've ever had in this city."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling and his one cheek creating a dimple that you found too irresistible not to kiss, so you did.

"Would you like to just spend the day here or do you want to see something else?"

He looked around the park again with a deep sigh and you could feel his body relax against you. "I am content to do anything, so long as it is with you."

You thought about it for a moment before pulling out your phone and tapping away.

"There's a museum not too far from there that has an exhibition on Ancient Rome," you said. His interest was piqued and he squinted down at your phone. "Would you be interested in that? You could teach me something," you told him with a poke to his ribs. He chuckled and shrugged.

"I fear you are too brilliant for me to teach you anything, but I am intrigued."

You giggled and stood up, hauling him to his feet as you began to lead him back the way you came.

"We can grab something quick to eat along the way."

Marcus was very quiet the first ten minutes inside the museum. He silently read the informative plaques on the walls next to replicas of gladiator helmets and broken spears with his hands clasped behind his back and his expression unreadable. He studied maps and watched a video of a historian talking about the rise of the Roman Empire playing on a loop, and all the while you followed him from room to room, reading what he read and trying to see things through his eyes.

He had a proud smile on his face when you came to a room about the technological advancements of the Roman Empire and how it impacted present day. He had just finished reading about the ways Rome impacted the design of modern day roads and bridges when he saw the next display and his smile faltered.

"What is it?" you asked him softly. His eyes flickered back and forth between a photograph of the Colosseum and an NFL stadium with a little blurb underneath comparing the two.

"You still have..." he drifted off and pointed to the stadium. "Your people still fight to the death?"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head furiously, immediately picking up on the tension in his voice.

"Oh, no. No, Marcus. They don't fight, it's a sport. Nobody dies. The stadiums are just built to look like the Colosseum."

He nodded in understanding but you saw the look on his face. Something troubled him and it made your chest ache. You glanced around the room, noticing it was mostly empty, then stepped forward so you stood between him and the display. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your chin on his chest, drawing his attention down to you and off the photos.

"What is it?"

He gave you a sad smile and his arms circled your waist.

"There is something I have not told you."

Once again, your eyes flickered around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear before looking back up at him expectantly.

"Daniel and Victor found me because I was fleeing Rome," he said solemnly, and already you could see the shame in his face.

"Why were you fleeing?"

He pressed his lips together tightly before sighing. "I displeased the emperor. I refused to carry out his orders. Orders that would kill thousands of young men simply to make a statement. I could not do it, my love." His hands grew tighter around your middle and you swore you saw tears begin to form but he blinked them away. "As punishment, I was sentenced to become a gladiator. To fight for my life and their entertainment in the arena. So... I fled. I was a coward and I fled."

"You weren't a coward," you whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke his bearded cheek. "You would have died, Marcus. That's not cowardly."

"It was cowardly to not die an honorable death," he argued, but you shook your head.

"It's barbaric and wasteful," you told him. You felt him lean into your touch for comfort. "I'm glad you ran away. If you didn't, I never would have met you."

He couldn't resist. Marcus leaned down and captured your mouth with his, committing the feel of your lips to memory before he had to return home and face his destiny.

"C'mon," you said, stepping away from him and taking his hand in yours with a little smile. "Let's keep looking around."

He didn't let go of your hand after that. You walked together through the rest of the room, reading to yourselves about the architecture of Ancient Rome and how the buildings influenced the White House and the Lincoln Memorial when he stopped dead in his tracks and gawked at the very last photo.

"Is this..." he trailed off, reading the caption before looking at you in shock. "The arena still stands? This image looks to be present day." He pointed to the people standing around the outside of the Colosseum, specifically their clothes and how they looked similar to yours, and you nodded.

"Yeah, it's still there," you told him, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he continued to stare at the picture. "I'm sure it looks different and some of it collapsed with time but it's been maintained and well cared for. It's one of the seven wonders of the world."

He looked at you curiously and you smiled. "It's kind of a big deal," you explained simply.

His fingertips dragged over the glass like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"May we see it before I leave?"

Your face fell and sadness swelled deep in your chest. "No, Marcus, I'm sorry. It's too far away."

He nodded, catching the regret in your eye before dropping the subject and moving on. He would see it soon enough, anyway.

It seemed both of you were determined to keep the rest of your museum visit as light as possible. When you reached the area about art, he told you a story of an artist who created a beautiful portrait of him and presented it to him after winning a huge battle for Rome. With a smile, he told you how pompous he felt when he had it hung in his living space at home but he felt bad not honoring the artist's hard work.

When he excused himself to use the restroom, you sat on a bench and did something you refrained from doing since the moment you met.

You Googled his name.

The cell service was spotty and it took an extra minute, but sure enough his name pulled up some results. You picked the first one, quickly scanning down his multiple military accomplishments until you reached the end. You held your breath as you read the small paragraph, fearful of what you would find out but it was a question that had been plaguing your mind for the past two days and you needed to know.

General Marcus Acacius presumably died in 215 A.D. It was believed he met his demise in battle, however his body was never recovered.

Glancing up to make sure Marcus was still in the bathroom, you shot off a quick text to Danny.

You: What year did you set that time machine when you picked up Marcus?

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you watched your text slowly go from delivered to read, then three little dots appeared.

Danny: 215 A.D.

You closed your eyes and sniffled before tucking your phone into your pocket.

How could you go through with this now that you knew you were sending him back to certain death?

You did your damndest to not let it bother you, but it was hard. Every time you looked at him you wondered what fate had in store when he returned and the pit in your stomach just got heavier and heavier.

You arrived home to a note from Danny reminding you he had to run diagnostic tests on the machine and he wouldn't be home until late, so you both decided to stay in for dinner on your last night together. Cooking wasn't your strongest skill but you could make a decent pasta. Marcus lingered and tried to help but it was evident he was used to others cooking for him, and that was okay. You didn't mind.

When you each sat down to eat, his left hand falling easily to your leg again as he picked up his fork, you had to bite your tongue from screaming stay, please stay. By the way he was glancing in your direction throughout the meal, you had a feeling he wanted to say something, too, but either didn't know how or was too afraid to pop the bubble you had found yourselves in.

After you ate, Marcus made a move to wash the dishes but you quickly stopped him. The time you had left now was too precious to waste on things like that. You didn't say that, of course, but instead you wrapped his arm around you so you could burrow into his chest. Neither of you said a word. You didn't need to. You could both feel each minute ticking away, bringing you closer and closer to morning. You closed your watery eyes and pressed your ear against his chest, listening to the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart, wishing you could somehow bottle it so you could listen to it when he was long gone and you were all alone.

You wished you knew what to say to make it easier, but you couldn't think of a single thing. You tried to put into words how he made you feel without sounding like a complete psychopath, but you came up empty. So you continued to stand quietly in your kitchen, holding one another close, breathing each other in and trying to savor every single second you had together.

He whispered your name so you forced your eyes open and looked up. His eyes were also shiny with unshed tears and that was all it took for your face to crumple and tears to flow freely down your cheeks. He quickly cupped the back of your head and feverishly pressed his lips against yours as his own tears began to fall. How would you be able to get up and make breakfast in that kitchen without thinking of him? How would you be able to ever wash your sheets for fear of losing his scent? Christ, how on earth would you be able to write that month's article without being institutionalized?

"Marcus," you sobbed before locking your lips together again. It was the desperation in your voice that made him bend his knees, grab the backs of your thighs and wrap your legs around his middle so he could walk you both to your bedroom without breaking the kiss.

With all the care in the world, he delicately removed your clothes until your naked bodies were tangled together in bed, hands roaming over each other's skin as if you were trying to draw a map.

"Do not cry, my sweet girl," he whispered while hooking one of your legs over his forearm. He tipped his head down for just a moment so he could line himself up with your center before focusing back on you. His thumb wiped the tears from your cheek and he gave you a sad smile. "It would be a waste to spend what time we have left crying."

You nodded and took a few deep breaths before wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a deep kiss right as he sunk himself inside you. He groaned into your mouth and his grip around your leg tightened until his hips became flush with yours.

"Please, allow me to see you, cor mea," he murmured, and you hadn't even realized your eyes squeezed shut. You opened them and stared up at him looking at you like you were his only salvation. The words crawled up your throat and slid down to the tip of your tongue, begging to be said, but you swallowed them back down.

It was too fast. It was all too fast and you didn't have the luxury of time to figure it out. But what you did have was him, in that very moment, and you refused to waste it.

You bucked your hips up slightly, giving him the green light to move, so he did. He went slow. He took his time dragging the heavy length of him in and out while his mouth never left your skin. If he wasn't kissing your lips then he was kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulders - anywhere he could reach, he left his mark. It was the type of mark that burned your skin and settled deep below the surface, flowing through your veins and directly into your soul. The kind of mark that made you want to say something your brain thought was incredibly foolish but your heart was screaming otherwise.

To distract yourself from your thoughts, you wrapped your arms and legs around him and tilted to your side. He understood what you wanted and rolled the both of you over so you were on top, gasping for air. The new position had him reaching a spot that made you see stars and you needed to take a moment to collect yourself before you began to move.

"Oh, fuck," you whimpered, tilting your head back towards the ceiling and shifting your hips ever so slightly. Marcus grinned up at you, his big hands sliding up your thighs to settle on your hips.

"You are so beautiful like this," he told you softly. You dropped your chin back down to look at him, your entire being vibrating with adoration. "You fit around me so perfectly, my love. Do you feel that?" he asked when his cock pulsed inside of you. Your jaw dropped and you nodded. "That is what you do to me. You make me harder than I ever thought imaginable, yet your beautiful body takes me so well."

The praise made your chest warm. You began to roll your hips slowly, savoring every inch of him inside you with your hands braced on his broad shoulders for support when Marcus groaned and leaned forward to catch your breast in his mouth. The feel of his prickly beard against your skin combined with the way he flicked his tongue over your nipple made your back arch and your face pinch with pleasure.

Without warning, Marcus sat up and wrapped one arm around your waist while the other braced himself on the mattress so he could rock his hips in rhythm with yours. Your mouths hovered over each other as you began to move a little faster, your gasps and pants mingling together in the otherwise quiet room.

You could feel the familiar crest building deep inside you and you tried to fight it. Marcus, ever attentive, quickly figured it out and frowned.

"Let go, my sweet," he ordered, but you shook your head.

"I don't want it to end," you whimpered, forehead falling to rest on his shoulder. His arm squeezed around you tighter and his jaw clenched, desperately trying to hold off until you found your release first.

"I plan on taking you as many times as you will allow tonight," he said, lips brushing against your ear and sending a shiver down your spine. "Please, let go," he urged, grinding his hips up against you. "My only wish is to take care of you."

Your heart rattled in its cage at his words, your body growing weak and melting into his hold, giving into his request far too easily. With a raspy moan that resembled his name, you reached your climax, body shuddering in his lap while he whispered words of encouragement in your ear.

When he felt you relax, he groaned and started to move faster, your slick coating his length more and more with each deep thrust. You tilted your face from your spot on his shoulder to find his lips, your tongue plunging languidly into his mouth while he continued to fuck up into you. You had never felt so at peace than in that moment with Marcus. His presence was everywhere; his arms were wrapped tightly around your middle, pressing your sweaty chests together so close, you could feel his heart beating in time with yours. His spend, thick and sticky, was leaking out of you and down his shaft after he came. He was so warm and strong and powerful that it had your head spinning and your heart aching for more. And that is exactly what he gave you.

Marcus spent the rest of the night worshipping you. He cleaned you in the shower only to make a mess of you half an hour later. He massaged your hips and legs when they grew too shaky and weak. He held you close, lovingly stroking your hair when you needed a break. And when you finally couldn't keep your eyes open any longer, he wrapped you up in his arms and let you fall asleep on his chest, perfectly calm and content for the last time.

But it wasn't enough.

"Are you alright?"

You kept your eyes squeezed shut and you shook your head. Marcus sighed from his place next to your bed and bent down to tilt your chin up, unearthing your face from your pillow.

"Please look at me," he pleaded. You couldn't deny him anything, but especially so given you only had a few hours left, so you opened your eyes and gazed at him mournfully. He gave you a small smile and lovingly stroked your cheek.

"I will never forget this for as long as I live. You have given me something I never felt worthy of," he said softly. Tears instantly stung your eyes and your lip began to quiver.

"Don't," you whispered thickly. His eyes flashed with something you couldn't identify and he eagerly leaned forward.

"What?" he whispered. "Do not what?"

Don't go, don't go, don't go.

You were going to say it. You were going to be selfish and beg him not to go, to stay with you because now that you've had him, you can't imagine a life without him. And you fucking swore by the way he was looking at you that he might actually stay.

With your heart pounding nervously in your chest, you reached out for his hand and opened your mouth just to be interrupted by a sharp knock on your bedroom door.

"You guys in there?" Danny called through the wood. "We're all ready to go here. Lizard's waiting in a tow away zone out front, we gotta jet."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to get up, not catching the disappointed look on Marcus's face. You probably looked like shit, your hair was a mess and you hardly got enough sleep, but you didn't care. You tugged on a sweatshirt and pulled the hood over your head before taking Marcus's hand and opening the door. Danny was waiting, leaning against the wall looking at his phone, when you emerged.

"Fun night?" he asked with a wink. You shoved his shoulder and pulled Marcus down the hallway towards your front door, only pausing to grab his weapons and the clothes he arrived in.

"Did you call into work again?" Danny asked just to cut the unbearable silence that filled Lizard's fifteen year old shitty sedan. You nodded and continued to solemnly stare out the window. Marcus took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze but you were finding it difficult to look at him because if you did, you were certain you would burst into tears.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you repeated to yourself when you pulled up to the familiar split level, faded green home Lizard grew up in. You took Marcus's hand as you walked behind Danny and Lizard, each heavy step bringing you closer and closer to heartbreak.

"We'll distract his mom, you sneak Marcus down to the basement," Danny told you. You nodded and stared down at the ground, your unusual silence giving your brother pause before he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and turned back around.

"Hey, Mrs. Delio! We're back!" Danny called extra loudly into the house. You quietly snuck in after them while they hurried to the kitchen to stop her from stepping out and seeing you before you could sneak downstairs.

"Are we in a dungeon?" Marcus asked when you turned on the light and he saw the concrete walls and floors with only one small window in the corner of the room. You were about to explain it to him when you spotted the time machine in all it's glory, sitting proudly next to the washer and dryer, and you froze. Marcus felt you stiffen next to him and he turned around only to sadly drop his gaze when he noticed what caught your attention. He twisted your body towards him and took you by both shoulders before taking a deep breath and looking you dead in the eye.

"My love-" he began softly, but then Danny and Lizard came rushing down the stairs. You sniffled and looked away so they wouldn't see how emotional you were, but Marcus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to him.

"We're all set! She's heading out in a few to play bridge, she won't even notice we're gone til we're back," Lizard said as he began to power up the time machine, completely oblivious. You swallowed thickly, eyes still glued to Marcus and heart thumping so fast that you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.

"You ready, big guy?" Lizard asked excitedly as he opened the door and peeked inside the tiny vessel. Danny cleared his throat and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Give 'em a minute," he said quietly, and for the first time all week you felt thankful for your little brother. Lizard turned around, his eyes bouncing back and forth between you two until it dawned on him. He nodded before taking a few steps away to pretend to look at something on his computer with Danny in order to give you a little privacy.

"My love," Marcus began again, holding both your hands tightly in his. "It is difficult to put into words how I feel," he said, taking in a shaky breath. "I wish I were able to show you, but I do not have any talents. If I were a poet, I would write sonnets of your eyes. If I were a musician, I would write ballads of your laughter. If I could create art, I would sculpt and paint for hours to capture the essence of your beauty. But I am just a man, and my foolish words will have to suffice."

Fat, hot tears began to unabashedly roll down your cheeks and your eyebrows pinched together as you tried to memorize every single second before it was gone.

One tear fell from the corner of his eye and he gave you a sad smile. "I have never felt like this before-" he said, but you stopped him, unable to hold back any longer.

"I love you," you sobbed, not even noticing the way Danny's head snapped to look at you in surprise. "I know it's fast and stupid but I love you and I'm sorry but I couldn't let you go without telling you."

Marcus grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you in for a deep, breathtaking kiss. Both your lips were trembling and your tears were mixing together on your cheeks but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

He pulled back and pressed his forehead against yours before whispering, "And I love you, cor mea. You are my sanctuary. I wish to spend the rest of my days cherishing you and making you happy."

"Then stay," you begged, the words finally slipping past your lips with such earnest desperation, your voice cracked. "Please. Stay with me. Please-"

He pulled you in for another urgent kiss but this time, he wrapped both arms around you and pinned you tightly to his chest, pouring every ounce of emotion he had into it.

"Are- are you certain?" he stammered when he finally released your swollen lips. You gazed up at him with bleary eyes and nodded with a wide smile. You could feel his heart beating rapidly under your hand, which was pressed firmly against his chest, and he broke out in a huge grin.

"They couldn't have this conversation before I got a parking ticket this morning?" Lizard muttered to Danny under his breath, but Danny just elbowed him in the side, unable to look away from the two of you with a big smile of his own.

"I never thought I would feel happiness such as this," Marcus whispered in your ear, tears falling freely from both of you but for an entirely different reason now. You giggled into his neck, tugging him even closer, afraid to let him go even though he agreed to stay.

Danny clapped his hands, breaking the two of you up but Marcus still held you protectively against his side and you kept one arm wrapped around his waist when you turned to face your brother.

"So, no time travel today?" he asked, cocking his head to the side with a smirk.

"There is nothing left for me there," Marcus announced, the dread of being a disgraced man on the run or a gladiator becoming a distant memory. "Everything I ever wanted is right here. I apologize to you both for any additional work this has caused."

"No apology necessary," Danny said, squeezing Marcus on the shoulder good-naturedly. Lizard cleared his throat and took a few steps forward. You narrowed your eyes when you saw he was about to speak and quickly cut him off.

"I'll pay for the goddamn parking ticket, Lizard!"

He smiled at you sweetly, pleased he got exactly what he wanted. "So happy for you both, by the way."

You rolled your eyes and looked back up at Marcus.

"Do you want to go home?"

He smiled down at you warmly, his eyes dancing with adoration and happiness before bending forward to brush his lips tenderly over yours.

"Yes, my love. Let us go home."

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[idkwhatever580]

I threw it away

Masterlist<< I mostly write Natasha romanoff but if you have a request I’ll be happy to write Regina.

Pairings: Regina George x reader

Prompt: weight had never been a tricky thing for y/n. Until she started dating Regina.

Warnings: bad relationships with food/weight

A/N: idk I wanted to write something like this to show that an ED or a relationship with weight can change even when you’re older and not just at girlhood i guess? Just remember that you are so perfect and loved.

Y/n’s pov

I started dating Regina during the summer between our junior and senior year.

I used to be friends with Janis. That is until I found out what she did to Regina.

I don’t care if a girl is your mortal enemy. You don’t mess around with her biggest insecurities. Even if it’s what she flaunts the most.

Especially not weight. Those Kalteen bars were horrible of janis to do.

I slowly just got “busier” over time. And I eventually just stopped talking to Janis all together. I didn’t want to surround myself with that energy.

So after Regina got hit by that bus I started visiting her and trying to make it up to her.

It might not have happened if I just told her what they did.

But then again, we might not have started dating. So back to now.

I basically have been living at Regina’s place. I spend the night a lot, but if I go home then Gina is always picking me up when I can go.

My parents don’t care much. They say that I’m allowed to live my life. Thank goodness they’re laid back. Of course not as much as Mrs George but they believe that as long as I’m not getting drunk, high, or pregnant then I’m good.

I’m in Gina’s room and she gets up and says

“I’m going to the bathroom.��

I get up to go with her.

“Okay!”

She’s like the black cat and I’m like the golden retriever. But we work really well together.

She walks in and does her business and then after she washes her hands and all, she decides to head over to the scale.

I’ve never used it. But she uses it all the time.

She breaks me out of my thoughts when she thinks out loud

“Yes! Back down to my ideal 120 pounds” (about 54 kilograms?)

I frown. I’ve never heard her say her weight before. And I say

“Congrats baby! Was that from all the kalteen bars?”

She nods her head and says

“I finally worked all the weight off”

I smile and kiss her and say

“That’s great. Why don’t you go tell your mom?”

She shrugs and says

“Eh. It doesnt matter. I’m gonna go back to the room okay?”

I nod my head and say

“I’m gonna pee”

She doesn’t stay since I’m a bit pee shy still so when she leaves I quickly run to the scale and check my weight.

Definitely not Regina’s ideal weight.

Suddenly I feel this rush of guilt fall over me. I walk back to her bed and crawl in with her. As she scrolls through her phone, I get lost in my thoughts.

If Regina tells me I’m perfect the way I am then why would she lie? Obviously she wants to be a certain weight. And if it’s her ideal weight then she clearly wants me to be that way too. I need to lose more weight. Maybe I’ll start a diet. That’s good. I’ll start a diet and just won’t tell Gina until I hit her desired weight and then she’ll think I’m perfect for real.

“What’s on your mind?”

I snap out of it and shake my head

“Nothing! Just watching videos over your shoulder”

She squints at me and says

“Alright. You know if you need anything you can tell me right?”

I nod my head.

Then all of a sudden Mrs George comes into the room and says

“Hey girls! I just wanted to let you know that I made my world famous cookies and they’re cooling in the kitchen right now if you wanted to grab them while they’re warm.”

I smile and Regina gets up so I follow.

She grabs one and says

“Aren’t you gonna eat one?”

I shake my head and say

“I’m not hungry.”

She hums and says

“But you love my mom’s cookies. You always eat a few”

I just now realized how much I eat of those and get slightly flustered so I say

“I’m just not hungry right now”

She nods her head and eats her cookie.

They do smell heavenly. But I must stay strong.

We head back upstairs after Gina finishes her cookie and I go on my phone to look up good diet routines. I find a decent one to start with.

If I don’t like it then I’ll do another one.

So I text my mom and ask her if she can get a few things the next time she goes to the store and she agrees.

Then I turn around and yawn.

“Y/n are you sleepy?”

I nod my head and she says

“Take a nap baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I smile and let my eyes flutter closed and Regina whispers into my ear

“My perfect girl”

I smile at her even though it’s fake. I don’t feel perfect anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a few weeks on this diet and it’s hard. It’s hard for me to reject a bunch of the foods I love.

Thankfully Mrs George also makes some keto versions of her food every now and then so I can eat those.

I have a routine now. Every time I go to the bathroom I check my weight right after. I check my weight in the mornings and in the evenings. But only at Regina’s house since I am here all the time.

We’re watching tv on her bed and I say

“I gotta pee. I’ll be right back”

Gina nods and says

“Kk”

I do my business and wash my hands. But it isn’t until I go to where her scale is that I find it’s not there.

I look around the room and I don’t see it anywhere.

“Gina?”

I say loud enough for her to hear me.

“Yeah?”

Once I know I have her attention I say

“Where’s the scale?”

“Oh.. I threw it away”

After she says that I walk quickly to the room and say

“What?! What do you mean you threw it away?”

She shrugs as always and says

“I threw it away”

“Why would you do that? I need to see my weight.”

She gets up and comes to me and says

“I threw it away because I noticed that you’ve been doing this thing where you check your weight all the time.”

“Well you check yours all the time too!”

For some reason this is like a huge deal to me. I just want to be perfect for her. She grabs my hand and sits me down and says

“I know. I realized how bad that can be for my mental health. So I decided that I was going to lose the weight from those nasty kalteen bars and then start fresh. I, of course, have been having a healthy balance between my food intake. But it’s not a huge deal if I lose weight or gain weight. As long as I’m healthy.”

I look at her and say

“Oh. That’s nice.”

She nods her head and continues

“I noticed that once I stopped, you started. And I didn’t want that for you. You have never had to worry about your weight before because it was never a bad thing in your house. Most girls would call you lucky. And I don’t want you to start thinking bad about yourself now”

I frown and say

“But you said the ideal weight is 120?” (54)

She sighs and says

“I said that wrong. I wanted to get back to my baseline and start taking care of myself properly. The only reason I lost that weight in the first place was because I didn’t want to feel like Janis had that hold on my body anymore. If I was gonna gain weight it was going to be for myself. And because of myself. Not for anyone else and not because of anyone else.”

I nod my head in understanding and she puts one of her hands on my cheek and the other on my waist and says

“I’m sorry you ever felt less than perfect because of a stupid slip up I made. Your body is literally so beautiful.”

I doubt her until she says things that most people think are ugly

“From your beautiful stretch marks. Right down to the cellulite in your legs. It’s all beautiful. Perfect. And honestly. You’re so healthy. You work out. You’re strong. You have a good balance with food. Well, you did before you started whatever diet thing you have going on. And you are literally like a puzzle piece for me. The way we can cuddle perfectly. I love your soft tummy because I can nap on it and be so comfortable. I love your ass and tits because they make great handles for… sexy times…”

I giggle and she continues.

“I love how each and every scar and divot and bump and mark on your body tells a story. It makes you, you. And I would change that for the world. So I threw the scale away. If I’m starting new. Then you are too.”

I sigh as I get a fluttery feeling in my heart and stomach and I hug her. I finally say

“Thank you. Thank you so much”

She shakes her head and says

“No thank you. You’re the one who convinced me I’m perfect the way I am. And now it’s my turn to do the same.”

I pull away and she says

“Why don’t we go downstairs. I think my mom is making us a snack”

I smile and nod my head.

We head downstairs and Mrs George is making snickerdoodles and I smell the air and say

“It smells delicious!”

She smiles and says

“I made some keto ones for your diet y/n!”

She pulls out one singular cookie that was set apart from the others and I say

“Oh. No thanks. I’m not gonna diet anymore. My body is perfect the way it is.”

She smiles and nods her head affirming that and then hands each of us a cookie that is still warm and soft from the oven.

I hum when I take the first bite and Gina does it at the same time as me so we end up giggling from it.

This time. I eat two cookies and Gina does the same.

Then Gina asks

“Mom? What did you do with that other cookie?”

She turns around and says

“Oh! I threw it in the trash.”

Gina nods and turns to me. I smile at her and say

“Slay”

We love a good parallel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope y’all liked it! It’s my first time writing Regina George. But I’m thinking of writing a prequel to this and doing how Janis and y/n had their fall out. And when y/n started being friends with Regina. Let me know what y’all think!

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish

[7ndipity]

Leaving For The Military

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How they would be with their crush or S/o before enlisting and how they keep in touch.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anons who requested this! I debated on whether or not I would post something about this, but since several of you asked, I decided I would. I did decid to make this more fluffy/crackish tho, cause I don’t want y’all getting too sad.(also, I struggled with this one a bit, so I’m sorry if it’s shit)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I think back a lot on how he said before that he’s allergic to seriousness, so other than when he first tells you about going, I think he tries to keep things really light and upbeat.

Probably spends the whole week before leaving asking you to shave his head. “I’m not doing that!” “Why not? It’ll be a bonding experience!”

Leaves several little notes/letters for you(similar to his messages for Army) saying how much he loves and can’t wait to see you again. Plus, you’ve seen how frequently he posts on weverse, so you know he’s texting/calling you all the time.

Yoongi:

Since he’s in public service and getting to stay close to home(I think?), he really tries to avoid making a big deal out of it. Like, it’s obviously still a major shift in his life, but being able to still see/talk to you regularly would make it a lot easier.

If you live abroad tho, he would take it a bit more seriously, making sure the two of you talk as regularly as possible.(since they’re not allowed to travel abroad during service)

Literally keeps a list of things he wants to tell you/talk about whenever y’all call/video chat so he won’t forget anything.

Hobi:

He makes a point to spend as much time with you as possible before he leaves, making little bucket lists of things for the two of you to do together before and after enlistment.

Lowkey keeps flexing in his uniform(you’ve seen his insta, you know it’s true) “I look kinda good tho, right Babe? Babe?” *😑agrees but won’t admit it*

He misses you so much, and he calls/checks in with you every chance he gets(honestly, y’all talk more than me and my besties, lol)

Namjoon:

He’s rather solemn and serious about the whole thing, though he tries not to talk about it too much, trying to focus more on enjoying your time together rather than dwelling on what’s to come.

Y’all probably spent the whole night before he left awake and talking about anything and everything, not wanting to lose any time together on sleep.

Tries to call/message you as often as possible, getting over-excited to catch up on what’s going on in your life and share what he’s doing.

Jimin:

He spends the last couple days before leaving practically fused to your side, trying to soak up as much time with you as possible. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s anxious abt all of it.

Another that would probably leave you one, or more likely multiple notes/letters for after he leaves for you to read whenever you’re feeling down(totally didn’t read them all in the first week, wym?).

He messages/calls you every chance he gets(probs featuring an appearance from Jk, if it’s true abt them getting to stick together)

Taehyung:

He takes a semi-unserious approach to the whole thing. Like, he’s very sincere and open when you have the initial discussion about him leaving, but after that he’s just making little cracks about it here and there.

“You know, it’s kinda like the plot of a drama.” “It’s really not.”

He’s so dramatic abt missing you, calling you constantly. Another who would likely leave you little notes for when you’re feeling low, though his include random suggestions like eating at certain restaurants y’all like or watching your fav movies/shows.

Jungkook:

As we’ve seen with his posts from the past couple weeks, I think he would be somewhat somber when he first talks to you about everything and maybe again right before he leaves, but the rest of the time he’d try to keep things light and unserious.

(you know he’s constantly trying to get you to rub his head after he gets it shaved🙄)

Obviously, he misses you like crazy, but he tries not to let on too much at first when y’all talk, but it starts to show when he admits you’re always the first person he calls or texts.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[redroomreflections]

All These Kisses

All These Kisses

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House Au - can be found on a03

Summary: the kisses shared between both women

Note: since y'all keep asking me to upload original and new stuff (eye roll)

Your love language had always been physical touch and quality time, especially spent with Natasha. With six children, two parents-in-law, two dogs, and a cat, there often left no time for either of you to spend any real time with each other. It's amazing how you do it. There's always something going on in your life that pulls you in every direction. Cara and Willow need braces. Of course, let's set an appointment for the only free time you have that week. James has soccer practice—okay, you can switch off on that. You pull into the driveway as Natasha is pulling out. A honk and a wave of acknowledgment are sometimes the only things you get that day.

Save for mornings. Mornings like this are reserved for the both of you. There's a certain level of intimacy that can't be achieved even with sex. Not that either one of you is looking for this to lead to sex. Making out was a lost art that you'd certainly enjoy during times like this. Natasha's warm hands are under your pajama top, mapping the expanse of your back, as you moan into her lips. You're not trying to take this further, but you certainly enjoy this. Natasha is a wonderful kisser, and she makes sure to make you feel loved and wanted, just as you do for her.

Her lips are soft and supple, and she's talented as hell as you push yourself further into her arms. The moment is lost, though, as your alarm goes off. The two of you laugh at each other as you help Natasha find her clothes. This is just another day for the two of you, but it's one of the few moments that you get to share like this.

*************

The next opportunity arises in the middle of a conversation with the kids. Natasha is preparing breakfast with the kids, making toast when she takes it out of the oven too soon. She barely reacts, but you notice just in time as you come in for your morning coffee.

"Ah," Natasha frowns, looking down at her thumb as she haphazardly drops the toast onto a plate.

"Careful, baby," you say as you take her hand in yours to inspect her injury. "Not too bad." You grin as you kiss her thumb.

She rolls her eyes with a smirk. "Thanks for the warning," she grins as she pecks your lips before returning to her task.

You watch her for a few seconds more. Gosh, you love that woman.

************ 

Another kiss as you head out of the door. You're running late for work and so she's volunteered to take the kids to school this morning. You thank her as you search for your keys. Somehow they're never where you left them.

"Where are my keys? Have you seen my keys?" You ask as you set your coffee down on the foyer table. Seven people seemingly ignore you as you frantically move about the room. "Cara?"

"Don't look at me," Cara shrugs.

"Charlie?" You look to the girl who often pretended to drive with you or Natasha's keys.

"Did you check your briefcase?" Natasha mumbles as she attempts to put Luke's shoes on. She glances in your direction to see you running around.

"They're not in there," You say with a slight eye roll.

"Just asking, they're usually in your bag," Natasha shakes her head.

"I know and thank you but they're not there," You sigh. Why did this have to happen today? When you have back-to-back meetings with your boss. Making partner at this company has been a goal of yours for a while now. You can't have any mishaps.

"Just take the corvette," Natasha offers.

"And risk dying? I don't know," You frown. The two of you go back and forth for a little longer.

"It's not that bad," Natasha stands to her full height. "It's either that or be late."

"I know I just-" You look down to see Paige staring up at you with a frown on her face.

"Mommy, James called me a potty word." She whined.

"What potty word?" You ask looking over at James who isn't the slightest bit phased by his sister telling on him.

"He called me Poopybutt," Paige scrunched her nose. "I told him that is not my name."

"James, please don't call your sister names," You say as you turn from her. You go over to the hook where your keys could possibly b and find nothing. "We're leaving in a minute, go get in the car." You order. "Where the hell are my keys."

"Oh, you cussed." Paige's eyes widened.

"Hell isn't a curse word, it's in the Bible," Charlie explains as she twirls in her school skirt.

"Mommy did it though," Paige argued.

"Yeah, so did James," Cara reminded her.

"Why is everyone trying to tell on me," James stomped his foot.

"Mom, can you take me to school now please?" Cara asked, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

"She'll take you in a minute," You roll your eyes, patting your pocket and almost giving up until you find Natasha standing near your briefcase with your keys in her hand. She has a knowing smirk on her face. She'd seen them there as she was packing your lunch and thought she'd save you the trouble of searching for them. She knew how stressed out you were for the day. You could tell she was trying to hold her tongue, and not gloat in the moment. "Thanks, baby," You say sheepishly as you step over to her. You grab the keys gently from her hand and peck her lips thankfully. "Love you."

"Love you too, have a good day." She grins, patting your ass as she sends you on your way.

************

Other kisses happen when you're too engrossed in work to leave your computer and she comes in as innocently as she does. First, she rounds the computer, giving you a small wave, before she stands behind your chair. She wraps her arms around you and begins to run her hands over your arms.

"Hey, baby," She purrs. "How much longer do you have?"

"Just a little bit," You mumble. "I have this file here that I need to read through."

"And what do I need to do to get your attention?" She asks.

"You have it," You say, turning to see her grinning widely. "I'm just not finished yet. Why?"

"I miss you that's all," She murmurs as she kisses the side of your head. Those kisses then turn into more. She's kissing your neck, and leaving bites in strategic places while unbuttoning your shirt. She's trying to get you to abandon your work, and it's working.

"Nat, baby," You moan as her warm mouth closes around the shell of your ear.

"Yes, love?"

"You're distracting me," You inform her.

"I'm just kissing my wife," She says.

"I can't focus," You pout.

"Fine," She sighs, pulling away. She sits down near your desk. She looks at you with a playful pout. You've got a lot of work to do, so you decide to leave her be. You could be finished faster.

************

The next kiss is needy. It's the kind you get when you're in the middle of sex. The kind you can't even describe. The kind you get flashbacks from in the middle of your workday.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You chant as your wife's head bobs between your legs. Her tongue is lapping at your cunt, and her hands are holding onto your thighs. You're coming down from your orgasm when she moves up your body. Her face lingers inches away from yours and you can't help but place a hand on the back of her neck to bring her closer. "Kiss me." You beg her. She grins and brings her lips closer, just barely grazing yours. Your hips buck up to hers as she teases you. "Nat," You whine.

"Shh," She whispers against your lips, moving a little closer, but never touching. Her tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you oblige. This type of kissing is one of your favorites. You could do it all day long. You could live inside the way Natasha kisses you. You could die a happy woman with your lips against hers.

"I love you," You whimper.

"I love you too." 

[astralnymphh]

Wait expanding on Ellie looking out for you but not for herself…thinking abt her sternly telling you to drink water as if she’s had anything but random sips of coffee throughout the day or reminding you to take your makeup off meanwhile she keeps getting distracted by random tasks and keeps procrastinating taking a shower…thinking many thoughts

♯.♱┆mhm, mhm, that is very ellie. I think ellie is so aware and acquainted with you being a welcomed presence in her space 24/7 that she has an eye on you— peripherally and straight-on. sat at a desk? glances here and there, sometimes a surprise kiss on the head for a bonus (checks to see if you're genuinely working on your coursework or not). taking a nap? preps a cup of water, switches the TV on for background noise (and for herself), covers you with a freshly laundered blanket, and lies near. stashes a mental checklist of certain things you have or haven't done, yet involuntarily disregards her own needs because you clog each pocket of her noggin known to craze over some fixation; such as a comic series, a video game, ideas on how to begin her latest pièce de résistance, or woodland muses that prance about the encompassing afternoon light and leap right into said pièce de résistance— but now, you've dethroned most fixations, and eclipsed an amassing portion of her life. routine dedication, she precautions; a human-sized, human-voiced, reminder alarm. like literally. "hey, did you wipe your makeup off?" but once she gets a good glimpse of your sleepy face in bed— stained by the remnants of makeup that managed to cling to your features– she just chuckles and gives you that "really?" expression, but it's delicate and kindhearted when her face wears it. "here— I kept a pack near, just because.." twists her head and reaches an arm to the nightstand nearest, hand then returning with a wipe softly clamped in two fingers and takes it upon herself to clean your eyelids first; pad of her thumb wrapped in the damp tissue lining a stroke along the bottom one. such a sweetheart, clad by such a focus-scrunched face whilst doing it, "it's okay, I got it. just means I get to look at your really, really pretty face longer before sleeping," piebald freckles tugging toward the center of her concentrated features, and lips softly hung in a grin. a steadying hand curls around the flank of your shoulder, just massaging; fingerprints soothing you in little circles. "ts' not like I don't when you are but— oh, I sound like a creep now, don't I?" her face awkwardly cringing a bit, prompting you to remind her, croaky-voiced, "you sound like my girlfriend who can't sleep at a proper time and spends it admiring her girlfriend with a healthy sleep schedule instead. nothing odd there." and ellie, mimicking a grinned offense, lets air spout against her shut teeth, "tch— you're the worst."

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MP

i would write out more scenarios but my cramps have a genuine chokehold on my uterus. (can add a large text document version if needed)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

I Wish You The Best

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: You thought you had it all figured out, but when a certain green-eyed stranger keeps showing up in your life and turns it upside down you wonder if it’s best to push him away or if you should let him in. Reader is a grad student in medical school that doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world. This is the first fic in my Before You Go Universe, but can be read as stand alone.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early to mid-30's)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), Mentions of sex (not explicit at all), Implied sex, Self-deprecating Thoughts (Dean),  Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall.

His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again. 

Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.”  Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.”  Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test. 

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not.  All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show  up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

 After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better-

You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work.

Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is…

That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks  where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

 Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time.  I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms  committing credit card fraud and trying not to die.  And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and  I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand.  You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

 “It’s okay.” You gently rub his back.   “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little.  "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye Sweetheart.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

Thank you so much for reading!  If you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics in this universe please let me know! :)

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Two

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains violence. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅

CHAPTER ONE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Two

It had been going so well.

Too well, really. 

So well, that you really should have known that it was all going to go to shit.

You cursed under your breath as you limped away, sporadically glancing over your shoulder, making sure you weren’t being followed. It was paranoia mostly - you knew Bucky had more sense than to try and follow you out in the open. And it wasn’t as if you didn’t garner enough attention on your own, making your way past groups of people heading home after a night out on the town, looking every bit the poor, helpless and pathetic little omega as you limped alone.

You hated it and you hated yourself for letting it happen.

It had been sloppy, careless. Hindsight was a bitch and had no problem telling you everything you’d done wrong; you should have waited, you should have taken your time.

But that was the problem. You hadn’t wanted to wait. You hadn’t wanted to spend another moment with him like that; touching him, kissing him, and doing every other unmentionable thing. As you walked, you scrubbed your cheek with your sleeve, trying to get his scent off you, but it felt like it was everywhere, like it was seeping into your pores, into your very being, and you’d never be rid of it.

The only thing you knew for certain was that Bucky Barnes was supposed to be dead and you were going to have to find a way to fix your mistake.

Though first you’d need to deal with the world of shit you’d found yourself in. Everything you owned was back at your apartment and Bucky wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t just going to sit back and forget that you’d tried to kill him. No, he was probably already trying to figure out who you were and why you wanted him dead.

Your weeks of hard work in getting close to him had gone down the drain and all the pathetic, degrading things you’d done had been rendered pointless.

It was playing over and over again in your head, every little thing you’d done and how you could have done better.

You’d played the part of the meek little omega, you’d made him want to protect you. That night in his apartment you’d spread your scent all over his bathroom in the hope of driving him crazy, getting in his head and making it so that you were all he could think about. And, then he’d started seeking you out; offering to walk you too and from work, and agreeing to come to the bar with you.

It had all been perfect.

He should be dead.

What had gone wrong?

You were so caught up in your own frustration that you didn’t hear the call at first, someone shouting your name from down the street. Looking up, you noticed Nikki and Jade, finally on their way home, heading straight towards you.

“What happened?” Nikki asked, looking you up and down, voice filled with concern.

“Didn’t you leave with Bucky?” Jade added a second later.

You took a breath, mind racing as you tried to come up with the perfect lie. Then your gaze dropped and you slipped back into the role of the helpless, delicate omega.

“I think I left my purse at the bar,” you said softly, not looking at either of them.

“You could have called us, we would’ve gone back for it,” Nikki told you.

“Did you tell Bucky? Did he not offer to walk you back to the bar?” Jade asked.

“No, he - we -” you swallowed awkwardly and paused for effect before daring to glance up.

“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked. “Did he -”

“No - no, Bucky didn’t do anything,” you quickly explained. “It was me, I - I tried to kiss him..”

The both fell into a stunned silence while you dropped your gaze again, looking thoroughly embarrassed. And, in a way, you were embarrassed, just not in the way that they thought.

“What did he do? If he was mean -” Nikki sounded ready to fight, and that was the last thing you needed.

“No, he was nice, really. I just - I feel so stupid for thinking he could like me like that...” you sighed, glancing up for a split-second to see if they were buying the lie. They were. “I needed some space so I came out for a walk. I don't want to go back to my apartment in case he sees and wants to talk about it, and then I tripped and hurt my ankle...”

“So, your purse...” Jade prompted softly.

You shook your head, indicating that you hadn’t left it, that you were just using it as an excuse to stay away from your apartment and, by extension, Bucky. For effect, you gave a little sniffle.

“Oh, mouse,” Nikki said with a shake of her head. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. I bet if you just talk to Bucky you’ll be able to sort it out.”

“I can’t. Not tonight,” you told her. “You didn’t see his face... it was so embarrassing.”

“Do you want to crash on our sofa tonight?” Jade offered.

You gave a weak little nod but stayed silent, quickly forming a plan. Their apartment was a couple of floors below yours but it was connected by the same fire escape. You’d be able to sneak back into your apartment in the morning, grab your stuff and get the hell out of there before Bucky could catch up to you.

The three of you walked back slowly, Jade putting her arm around your waist and helping you limp along on your injured ankle. Neither of them said anything, but you’d catch the way they were looking at you from the corner of your eye and it made your stomach turn.

Eventually you ended up in their apartment, set up on the sofa for the night, but you didn’t sleep; how could you when you knew he was upstairs and when you couldn’t trust that Nikki and Jade wouldn’t try to go talk to him on your behalf? Fortunately, the night passed without incident and, in the morning, you caught sight of Bucky leaving from the window. Your eyes followed him to his motorcycle, watching as he finished a phone call before riding off.

You didn’t have to hear his conversation to know that he was looking for you; he’d probably been up half the night trying to track you down, without once stopping to think that you’d be dumb enough to still be in the building.

You made your excuses to Nikki and Jade, and headed back upstairs.

Bucky had shut your apartment door, but the lock was busted. Fortunately, you weren’t planning on sticking around long enough to get your security deposit back. It didn’t look like anything had been taken, but a few drawers had been opened, obviously he’d spent some time in there, looking for clues. But you already knew he wouldn’t have found anything. It wasn’t like you’d kept a journal detailing how you wanted to kill your neighbour.

Luckily, the latch on the door was still intact and held the door shut well enough for you to dare to risk a quick shower, needing to scrub yourself to try and get rid of the last of his scent that you hadn’t been able to wash off the night before. Then you changed into some clean clothes and set about trying to pack a bag so you could get the hell out of there.

It was shocking just how much you’d settled into the apartment in the few months you’d been there, and you almost felt sad knowing you were leaving it. Aside from the act you’d had to put on for everyone around you, you realised that you’d actually liked it there; you’d found a comfort and sense of safety that you’d never had before.

Lost in the strange feeling, you almost didn’t notice the door rattling until someone forced their way inside, breaking the latch and the last thing holding the door shut.

Turning you expected to see him standing there, angry and ready to demand an explanation. 

But it wasn’t Bucky.

There were two of them, and you could only guess what they wanted, but you didn’t bother wasting time asking. Instead you dropped behind the sofa.

You pulled the knife from your boot and threw it, catching one of your attackers in the shoulder, causing him to stagger back and let out a string of curses. There was a moment of confusion, but they quickly realised where you were. Scrambling out of your hiding place, you tried to race for your nightstand and the gun that was hidden in the top drawer, but your injured ankle slowed you down. Before you got there, a large hand grabbed your collar and a fistful of your hair, yanking you backwards so hard that you fell.

A boot connected with your stomach, knocking the wind from you, but it didn’t stop you from grabbing the leg attached to that boot and biting down as hard as you could, earning a pained yelp from your attacker. A second later, you were scrambling towards the door, desperate to get out. Then came another kick and, this time, instead of pulling away, he pressed his boot down on your back, holding you in place.

You heard the click of a gun’s safety and held your breath, waiting for the inevitable.

“Hey, jackass, Rumlow wants her alive,” said the other and your stomach almost turned itself inside out at the sound of a name you hadn’t heard in five years.

“I’m not gonna kill her, just gonna put one in the back of her leg to keep her from running,” came the response.

Immediately, you started to struggle, cursing and swearing as he pressed down harder on your back and laughed. You were trapped and powerless to defend yourself; you were everything you’d never wanted to be again, and the realisation had you thrashing and struggling in vain.

“What’s he want with a scrawny little omega like this anyway?”

Somehow, you managed to crawl a few inches despite the weight on your back, managing to get yourself ever so slightly closer to the nightstand, refusing to give up, refusing to resign yourself to your fate.

“I dunno,” the other goon answered, looking down at you, “she’s a feisty little thing though.”

You twisted and squirmed, trying to reach behind you to pull the boot from your back, still fighting, even though you knew there was no real chance of escape. Each breath you took was an awkward gasp, panic plus the pressure on your chest was making it harder and harder to breathe. And it only got worse when your vision started to blur.

But, before you could pass out, you felt something against your neck, then you were zapped with about a thousand volts. The pain only lasted a couple of seconds before you lost consciousness.

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

In a way, Bucky knew that he should have seen it coming, that you (or any one really) wanting to be close to him should only ever have been seen as a massive red flag. In retrospect, it was easy to see how he’d fallen for it, how he’d let you play him and get close enough to almost take his life. 

And Bucky was angry, he was pissed that he’d let you get close, that he’d allowed himself to want for the first time in years.

He wanted to follow you as you ran, consequences be damned. He wanted to know why, wanted to know how your lies could make him feel a longing ache in the cave of his chest, an ache that hadn’t lessened even after your betrayal. 

For hours he looked through your apartment, trying to find some sign of who you were and why you wanted him dead, but there was nothing. He made call after call, upsetting almost everyone he knew by disturbing them at such a late hour. All he managed to find out was what he’d already suspected; the name you’d given him was fake, and so was every little scrap of your past that you’d shared.

There was no trace of you, like your entire life had been a lie, like you’d never even been a real person.

He began to wonder if you’d been trained somewhere like the Red Room, or been part of the Winter Soldier program, but none of that made sense. While you were clever enough to get close to him, it was obvious from your scuffle that you had no training, that you weren’t a fighter or a trained assassin. 

By the time morning came around, there was only one person left that Bucky hadn’t asked for help.

And, with great reluctance, he went to see Sam.

There was an awkwardness to the way he stood there in Sam’s home, half looking at him, the person he considered to be his only friend, and only in the loosest sense of the word. He didn’t want to explain himself or the maelstrom of emotions that he was trying to fight back. All he wanted was help finding you.

“I need your help tracking someone down,” he said, pulling up a photo he’d taken of the group on his phone last night, zooming in on your face. “I have a name, but I don’t think it’s real. The picture’s all I have to go on.”

Sam looked at the picture then looked at Bucky

“You know, when a woman doesn’t tell you her real name during a hook-up, it’s usually a sign she’s not interested in a relationship,” Sam joked with an easy sort of smile that Bucky had always been jealous of.

“It’s not like that,” Bucky answered, snatching back his phone. “She tried to kill me.”

“You do have that effect on people.”

“And this is why you’re the last person I came to for help,” Bucky responded,  taking a step back, about ready to give up leave.

“I see that cyborg brain of yours still doesn’t know how to process humour.”

“It can process humour just fine, it’s that you’re not funny,” Bucky snapped, his tone more than enough to tell his friend that he was already wearing on his last nerve. This was important to him and he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “If you’re not gonna help -”

“Alright, alright,” Sam held his hands up, signalling his surrender, “send me the photo and I’ll pass it on to Torres and see if he can find anything. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”

Bucky did as he was asked, sending the picture of Sam and then watching as Sam sent it on. Then there was a pause, Bucky obviously hesitating before he started to explain what had happened, in a tasteful and censored way. He told Sam how you’d moved in and how he’d tried to help you, how he’d tried to be a good alpha, and how the pair of you had started to get close.

“Any idea why she tried to kill you?” Sam dared to ask, even though he seemed to sense that it was something of a sensitive subject for Bucky. 

“No, she didn’t exactly stick around to explain it after trying to stab me.”

Sam gave him a look that had Bucky bristling, looking about ready to fight if Sam even thought about making another joke.

“Do you think someone paid her?” Sam said, looking at your picture again.

“No... it felt personal. She was really angry...” Bucky said, barely managing to hold back a sigh. “But she didn’t fight like she had any training and she’s an omega, so it’s not like she stood a chance at overpowering me..”

“She must’ve put on quite the act if she managed to get that close to you.” Again Bucky bristled, discomfort on his face betraying him. But if Sam noticed, thankfully, he decided not to say anything about it. “Why does it feel like there’s more than your wounded pride at stake here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky shrugged. “I just want to know why she tried to kill me and if she’s gonna try again.”

Sam was about to say something when his phone buzzed with a message. 

“Torres says it might take him a couple of hours.”

“Can you let me know what he finds?” Bucky asked.

“Sure. Where are you going?”

“Home. In case she goes back to her apartment.”

“You really think she’ll go back?”

“I don’t think she planned for failure,” Bucky offered, “I think she saw the opportunity and took it, now she’s out there with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

“Need me to come with?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, if she shows up I can deal with her.”

The pair shared an awkward goodbye and Bucky headed back to the apartment building, hoping that he hadn’t missed you, but not entirely sure what he’d do if you did turn up. He told himself that he just wanted answers, but it was more than that; he wanted to understand, he wanted to know why you’d gone to such great lengths.

A van peeled past him as he reached the building and he quickly noticed Nikki on the sidewalk, blood pouring from her nose, her eyes fixed on the van until she noticed Bucky.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, quickly moving to her, trying to make sure she was alright.

“They took her,” she answered, frantic. “Someone took mouse.”

“What?” He glanced down the street at the van.

“They had guns, Bucky. I think they’re gonna - oh my god...” she let out an awkward sob, her hand lifting to cover her mouth as she struggled not to fall apart. 

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Bucky told her, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to comfort her. 

“She was bleeding, Bucky. They’re gonna hurt her,” she continued. “I tried to stop them, but I -”

For a split second, he was torn - torn between staying and looking after Nikki and going after you - but his indecision didn’t last long. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you. He needed answers, he needed to know what was going on.

“Go inside,” he told her, starting back towards his motorcycle, “I’m going to get her back.”

Bucky didn’t wait for a response before starting the engine and taking off after the van.

He easily managed to catch up with the van in the city traffic, pulling up alongside it. He couldn’t see you, but he could hear something, someone, in the back of the van, struggling and kicking against the door. Whatever was going on, Bucky knew he wasn’t going to get any answers if he couldn’t get to you. Hearing your screams and shouts was the last straw; no matter who you really were or what you’d done, you didn’t deserve this.

Slamming his vibranium arm into the passenger door, he tore it off the van, quickly pulling one of your kidnappers out and tossing him into the street, causing the car behind to swerve wildly. In the commotion, the driver fumbled for his gun, giving Bucky ample time to climb into the van and slam his fist into the guy’s jaw. His head rebounded off the window, and the van turned sharply, slamming into a streetlight.

The collision was enough to knock the driver out.

Bucky climbed out of the van, practically tearing the back door off as he pulled it open, find you bloody and sprawled unconscious on the floor. He quickly dialled Sam.

“Hey, Sam, do you still have that safehouse downtown?”

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

You woke up in a small, mostly unfurnished bedroom with no memory of how you’d gotten there; you could remember waking up in the back of the van, kicking and screaming, trying to get out but, then, nothing. But that blank spot in your memory was really the least of your concerns.

When you moved, everything ached. Someone had cleaned you up and bandaged your wounds but, given the circumstances, that just made you feel worse.

All you wanted to do was curl up and surrender yourself to whatever was about to happen. You were so tired of running, so tired of fighting.

You wanted to give up.

You just wanted to sleep.

But a familiar scent reached you, a scent that confused everything even more; Bucky.

Your head ached as you tried to process what was going on and how you’d come to be with Bucky and not Rumlow, and how you’d come to trade one kind of fear for another.

Slowly, you managed to get to your feet, despite the way that the room seemed to spin and the floor felt uneven beneath your feet. Looking around, you tried to find something that gave you some idea of what was going on, but there was nothing. The only things in the room were the bed, a small bedside table with empty drawers, and an empty wardrobe. The view from the window told you that you were in an apartment building, but you couldn’t tell where.

Once you’d finished looking around the room, you headed for the door, expecting to find it locked but, instead, it opened out into the rest of the apartment. 

And there he was.

Bucky was sitting on the sofa, but he got to his feet the second the door opened. You gripped the doorframe as your stomach knotted and cramped, fear coiling in your insides at the realisation you were trapped and there was no way you’d be able to escape him.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between you, neither of you moving, neither of you taking your eyes off the other. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out what was happening and why you were there instead of rotting in a cell or worse.

“What’s going on?” You finally forced yourself to ask, trying not to lean too heavily against the doorframe, not wanting to show him just how weak and vulnerable you were.

“Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he answered, anger and upset thick in his voice.

Finally, you let your gaze shift to the door and started weighing up whether you could reach it before he stopped you. And Bucky noticed, in fact, he took a step towards you, almost goading you to try your luck.

“Why am I here?” You asked, exhausting and discomfort intensifying with every second that passed.

“Because I want answers before I decide what to do with you,” Bucky answered. “The guys that tried to grab you were ex-Hydra, a hit squad - is that who you’re working for?”

“I’m not working for anyone.”

“So it’s personal then?”

“I’m not playing twenty questions with you,” you answered with a sharpness that he didn’t expect, a tone he’d never heard from you before. “Just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” His confusion was almost believable, but you knew better than to think he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“Just kill me.”

“I don’t make a habit of killing unarmed omegas for no reason.”

“Right. Sure you don’t.” you scoffed sarcastically.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means drop the crap. I know you’re the Winter Soldier.”

Suddenly it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room and there was no missing the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face before a look of resignation appeared. You leaned against the doorframe all the more, watching as he struggled to respond, feeling worse by the second.

“So - what? - you came after me to settle a score?” He finally found his voice.

“You killed my brother,” you spat. “You ruined my life.”

Again, there was silence, but all you could think about was the suffocating heat in the room and how it felt like you could barely breathe, and how every breath you did manage to take filled your lungs with his scent.

Bucky had said something and was staring at you expectantly but your only response was to shake your head and start moving, limping towards the door knowing you couldn’t escape but wanting to try your luck regardless. You made it about halfway before you had to stop, the pain in your abdomen only getting worse until you were almost doubled over. Before you could think, before you could say anything, Bucky was at your side, catching you just as your legs crumpled beneath you.

Your vision blurred and you almost lost yourself in his scent and the way his arm pulled you against him in his attempts to steady you. And, for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into his side and surrender yourself to whatever might happen, but you refused to give up that easily.

“No,” you muttered weakly, trying to push him away, “get off me.”

He didn’t let go, knowing that if he did you’d only end up on the floor.

“You need to lay down,” you heard him mutter, a tenderness in his voice that didn’t belong, a kindness you didn’t want or need.

As much as you tried to struggle, you found yourself led back into the bedroom and placed on the bed. The moment your head hit the pillow, everything went black.

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

The revelation that he had killed your brother had left Bucky reeling. It wasn’t the first time that he’d been forced to confront his past as the Winter Soldier but it was turning out to be one of the most painful. He’d hurt you, taken something from you, and he’d never be able to make that right. The thought alone was enough to make him spiral.

As easy as it would have been to hide behind the idea that it hadn’t really been him, that the Winter Soldier wasn’t him, Bucky couldn’t separate himself from the pain he’d obviously caused you. And the worst part? He had no way of knowing who your brother was, no way of narrowing it down or understanding why; had your brother been his target, or had he just been collateral damage.

For a couple of hours he sat, thinking over all the terrible things he’d done, remembering all the things that haunted him, all the things he wouldn’t allow himself to forget in the hopes that something would spark a memory and he’d have the answers that he needed. But, the sorry truth of the matter was that he had far too much blood on his hands, too many deaths on his conscience.  

Whatever had happened, it seemed that his actions as the Winter Soldier had set you on a path that had put you in the crosshairs of dangerous people and, now that he had some idea of why, Bucky knew that he needed to try and make amends. He needed to try and help you. 

But, convincing you to let him was going to be the hardest part.

There was so much he didn’t know, but the majority of the anger and hostility he’d felt towards you had disappeared the moment he started to understand why you wanted him dead. Your words still rang in his ears; you ruined my life. It made him feel sick, but it was a sickness he’d felt before, a sickness he’d managed to work through.

When the bedroom door opened again a few hours later, he was shocked to see that, instead of looking better and rested, you somehow looked worse. You were barely keeping your balance as you stopped and looked at him, pure hatred in your eyes.

“What do you want with me?” You finally asked. “Am I your prisoner?”

“I don’t want anything. And, no, you’re not a prisoner,” Bucky answered, slowly getting to his feet and watching you closely, in case you collapsed again.

“So I can leave?”

“You can, but it’d hardly be the smartest option when you’ve got an ex-Hydra hit-squad looking for you,” he answered.

For a moment you gave him an indecipherable look, as if you were caught between shock and confusion that he’d put everything together so quickly. He didn’t bother to tell you it was because he’d had at least half a dozen people researching you and your assailants, trying to find out whatever they could.

“That’s how he found me...” you sighed under your breath but, before Bucky could ask, you were moving towards the door.

“Seriously?” He asked, clinging desperately to the last of his patience. “Just look at you, you can barely walk. How far do you think you’re gonna get?”

“Whose fault is that?” You snapped back.

“Seriously? You're gonna try and blame me? You jumped off the fire escape after trying to kill me,” he stated, moving to block you as you tried to reach the door.

“I thought you said I wasn’t a prisoner.”

No. You weren’t a prisoner but Bucky couldn’t let you go, not in your current state. You could barely stand and, besides, you had nowhere to go and nothing but your phone.

“You’re not, but if you think I’m gonna let you get yourself killed...”

“I can’t stay here with you,” you told him, trying to step around him.

“You’re not exactly a joy to be around either but you should at least wait until you’re well enough to -”

“My heat is about to start,” you finally admitted, hoping it would be enough to make him move. It wasn't.

“Seriously?” A moment later he was shaking his head. “All the more reason you should stay. You’re not gonna be able to look after yourself.”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” You asked and the look he gave you was enough to tell you that he wasn’t. He was dead serious. “I can’t stay here with you.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself. I can control myself around an omega in heat,” he answered, annoyed by the implication.

But, if he was honest, he understood at least some part of your worry; the events of the night before were still burned into his memory and, even though that longing ache in his chest had dulled somewhat, it was still there.

“Said every alpha ever,” you muttered, turning away from him, obviously looking for another way out.

“Look, I get it -” he tried, following after you.

“No, you really don’t.”

“I killed someone close to you and I’m sorry -”

“Sorry?” You turned back towards him, tone dripping with disbelief. “I bet you don’t even remember him. I bet you don’t even remember why. You don’t get to tell me sorry.”

“You’re right,” Bucky conceded, “I don’t remember a lot of my time as the Winter Soldier, but I want to make this right.”

You lunged suddenly, almost losing your foot as your hands met his chest and pushed. He barely moved and you almost crumpled to the floor as you shoved him.

“There is no making this right,” you told him angrily, hitting a balled fist against his chest. “You can’t fix this. You can’t bring him back from the dead.”

“Maybe not, but I can keep you alive,” he answered stubbornly, gripping your arm for a moment so you didn’t fall. “I have some friends looking for the guys that tried to grab you, once they’re in custody I’ll take you back to your apartment and we’ll never have to see each other again, okay?”

But, obviously, it wasn’t okay.

“I. Can’t. Stay. Here.” You repeated, slowly, as if he was an idiot. (And maybe he was an idiot for trying to help you.) 

“If I was going to hurt you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?” He answered back, tone becoming clipped as he became more frustrated by the conversation. “Just... let me help you and, when all of this is all over and you can stand without looking like you’re gonna pass out, you can have your revenge.”

The offer was made more out of desperation than anything else; he just wanted you to be safe while he dealt with the people trying to hurt you. Everything else could come after.

You made your way into the kitchen and he watched you glancing out the window, as if you were weighing up the pros and cons of jumping from the fifth floor. There was panic on your face as you turned back and looked towards the front door again, but Bucky was starting to realise that he wasn’t the only thing making you feel that way.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like this is your first heat.” He said because it couldn’t be - you must have been dealing with them for easily over a decade now.

Finally, you turned your attention back to him, no longer trying to hide your discomfort

“I haven’t had a heat in over five years,” you confessed with all of your previous anger. “I don’t do this. I don’t want to do this, especially not near you.”

Bucky chose to ignore the obvious insult. “Five years? How is that even possible?”

“Suppressants,” you snapped. “That I stopped taking so I could get close to you.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry my attempted murder was such an inconvenience to you,” he retorted sarcastically. He fell silent for a moment, watching as your trembling hand reached for the counter for support. “I thought you weren’t supposed to take them over long periods of time? Doesn’t that cause serious problems?”

“Wow, are you really going to stand there and try to alpha-splain it to me?”

“No, that’s not -” he stopped himself, seeing you tense in discomfort. “Can you just go sit down before you fall down?”

“I told you, I can’t -”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first twenty times,” he said, moving towards you and wrapping an arm around your waist, forcibly leading you from the kitchen and into the bedroom again, depositing you on the bed.

You didn’t fight him, despite obviously wanting nothing more than to push him away from you. He wondered if being close to him had the same effect that being close to you had on him, if his scent was filling your lungs with every breath.

“I can see if I can find something, some suppressants or -”

“It’s too late. You have to take them before it starts...” you told him.

“Then what do you need?” He asked.

You looked shocked by the concern in his voice and the way he was looking at you - which, given you’d tried to kill him less than twenty-four hours ago, seemed fair. But Bucky ignored it. Whether it was alpha instincts or guilt over whatever he’d done to your brother, he just wanted to help you, look after you. It didn’t matter that you hated him. It didn’t even matter that he was almost certain you’d try to kill him again once you got the chance.

He needed to do this. He needed to try and fix whatever he’d broken, however he could.

“I need you to leave me alone,” you told him.

Bucky tongued the inside of his cheek, biting back a dozen comments that would probably only make the situation worse before relenting. He lingered for a few seconds before shrugging and letting out a sigh, before finally turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him and giving you what you needed.

End Note : I know I'm probably raising more questions than I'm answering with this chapter but don't worry, everything will be answered eventually. And, yes, by Rumlow I do mean Brock (I'm saying he's still alive because I needed a bad guy 😅) Anyway, thanks for all the likes/comments/reblogs on the first chapter!

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[scoutsbabygirl]

I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

[knightyoomyoui]

Mina x M/F Reader - "Need You Now"

One of my shortest one-shots in the book. Sorry if this is unlike most of my longer fics, unfortunately I have to say that due to how busy I am in my life right now, I can still insert wriing stories in my free time, but not as long as I use to do anymore. Probably my one-shots from now on will be like less than 3 or 5k word count. This fic is inspired from one of my favorite songs of all time, "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. The structure of this story is in a music video-type narrative, so while reading this you can just imagine this as an alternative MV with the song in the background. I may have done the ending a little bit longer for the final chorus but I needed to add atleast more dialogue so yeah, just skip any unneccesary parts in your mind to fit it in the song haha. Lastly, I don't accept any commissions for now but I'm very open to accept any donations for you kind readers as another way of appreciation for my works. I can use this for my upcoming on-the-job training so please if you can spare some, I would be highly grateful. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui Enjoy reading!

It is nighttime of a random day in the 1700s in Japan, and Myoui Mina is currently living alone in her house. She is standing in front of the window as she views the townscape of Kobe with all the illuminated lights coming from the houses and posts. While her eyes are fixed on the scenery, her mind is busy projecting an image of a certain person to cope with the sadness she’s feeling.

Picture perfect memories with you is what she has been replaying on her mind again and again, in which she won’t stop or get tired at all, just like she can do with just being around you. All she feels is joy and tranquility within your presence, and although she needed it right now, it makes her disappointingly wonder why this day is just going to end up unlike what she had with you before.

Her almost-a-month of longing for you has already reached its breaking point, not for the idea of only meeting you in her dreams but to the annoying fact that you had to disappear without leaving any trace for her to follow or indication to be relieved that you’re doing well on wherever you may be at right now.

She reached for the telegraph in her table and tries to contact you until she realizes that she never had your contact with him and it will rather end up being pointless, just like as her search around the town that she has done few days ago, inquiring for your whereabouts.

Slamming the telegraph back into its place, Mina groaned and sighed heavily with a frown on her face. She sat on the bed, her energy deteriorating as the likelihood of receiving a response or an update about you increased. It’s already a wasted 49th attempt at reaching back to you, and she wondered how long it would take to be ignored like this.

Mina then started to question you by herself: did you ever become happy with her and do you even still think about her even when you're not around to spend time together with her? She knows that you already knew that she hates feeling abandoned anymore, and now that you act like you are unaware of it, Mina is now wondering twice if you even listened or understood why she said that and especially

when she told you how much you mean for her.

If she'll be the one to ask the same, she admits that she is and she does it always until now. She won’t be this determinated to find and learn any news about what you may be doing if you’re just somebody that she’s close with. No, for Mina… you turned out to be the only person that holds special purpose in her life.

And not having you anymore will make Mina lose interest or simply, a reason to continue living again. Twice is enough if the pain will just be doubled, she believes.

Mina has checked the time and realizes it's been already quarter after 1 AM that she remained awake. It made her broke down in tears, knowing that this isn't like her who waits for this long and the fear to be alone again is eating her up inside more in which you once helped her to fight it since the first time she met you.

Looking at the telegraph again, she said to herself that she won't call anymore, thinking that she might probably be disturbing you or becoming strange with her frantic efforts of searching for you, but Mina has already lost control, and she doesn't care anymore if she has become this desperate.

She just needs you tonight, and now that you’re gone after showing her how it feels to have someone by her side after living most of her life without a family, relative, or even friends, she doesn't know how she can manage without having you again in her life.

Meanwhile, not so far away from your hometown and from Mina’s sanctuary, you were cleaning your weapons until it got interrupted when your concentration vanished again just by the memory of Mina affecting your heart and mind.

You looked out the window, reflecting the dark sky and atmosphere outside. A sudden concern about how she may be doing had obliged your body to react. Letting out a huge exhale, you stood up and proceeded to your brewery to grab another bottle of whiskey.

Pouring one into the glass and taking it as medicine for missing Mina a lot again alleviates the loneliness from the state you are in. You kept your composure; you know the time is running out, and you just had to remain still and focus on the plan.

The more you keep remembering Mina, the more you have begun to appreciate every aspect of her, even more than you have ever crossed your mind. But then you have seemed to notice that whenever you have an episode of this, a strange feeling is lingering inside your heart.

Which led you to speculate if maybe you are now enjoying the existence of Mina like, way more or far away from just being a friend or a companion that you met when you were alone strolling through the forest. The thoughts of her being actually deadly gorgeous in a way that is obviously not a normal compliment anymore and her admiring personality have captured your attention further to how she really is as a mesmerizing woman.

You looked at the door shut, missing those moments where Mina would just freely sweep open through it and greet you with her gummy smile and her adorable cheeks that puff whenever she’s happy. If only she can visit you again, it will not be the same exchange that you’ll definitely do for her this time.

You owe her one that is more than that, that’s why. But then you took note that you'd save it for later as the perfect time is about to arrive soon nonetheless.

You checked the time and it's been quarter to 1 AM already. You also became aware that you’re starting to get drunk now. The alcohol increased the emotions you’ve been caging up inside, causing you to lose control that results to your tears containing the minimum of what you’re entirely feeling right now that’s making you obvious that you simply want to see Mina again.

You swore that you wouldn't call for her to keep your focus on the plan but at your drunken state, you have gotten lost out of your control, betraying your very own words.

You kept on mentioning Mina's name as you promised to yourself that you’ll come find and save her because if you don’t, you aren’t sure at all on what you can do without her.

And at the same time as when Mina declares to herself that she needs you, it wasn’t coincidental that you share the same sentiment.

Timeskip to 4AM early in the morning, Mina was peacefully sleeping on her bed when her enhanced senses had her alerted back to conscience. She rose from the bed and noticed some flashing lights and growing silhouettes coming from outside the window. It should’ve been dark and quiet during this time since it was still too early.

Checking out to gain a better glimpse of what source its coming from, she observed that the townspeople are marching into her house all bringing their tall torches and knives with them.

“Is there a ceremony being performed today? W-why are they making their way through here?” Mina then watched them seperate, in a form that they’re surrounding her house.

“D-do they know already?” Getting the hint that they all are now aware of her true nature, based on the knives and torches they brough with them, she became scared that this will be the time that she'll die.

They all began to yell and some went on to bump the front door repeatedly. Mina rushes to close the door of her bedroom. Hearing the door collapse from outside, footsteps and chatters came near towards her hiding place.

Mina started to block the door with her body as the townspeople banged through her door again, their intentions come full obvious that they came here with one objective, and that is to eliminate the impostor that has been living with them all along.

“Ah! P-please, stop!” she yelps and cries for mercy as she remains to secure all the doors for her safety while they barge into her place, she wishes for you to come for the last time

until she heard series of growls, curses, and screams from outside.

She tried to take a peek through the little gap that she made by opening the door a little. “YN!!!!!!!” Mina became horrified to witness you getting teamed up by your fellow townspeople with some dead people lying around as they bathe in their own blood along with some scattered through the walls because of what you did.

With your bloody huge knife, she realized that you came all around here to rescue Mina only to get outnumbered because of the ampunt of townspeople gathered to hunt and kill her kind.

“MINA!!! RUNNNN!!!!!” She heard you yell for her name while being battered and dominated by your monstrous townsmen. They all looked around to find her, and they spotted Mina peeking through the door.

She closed it again and barricaded it with her body. Their more aggressive bumps and your wails with your brutally awful state had Mina whimpering and crying poorly.

The pity she feels for you however loaded her infuriation. Every second her eyes blink, her pupils flicker into a purplish color. As she gritted her teeth, her hands clawed with some bio-kinetic energy forming like a ball through her grasp.

Her hair floats at the intense air caused by her transformation, and suddenly her witch powers awakened. She points her hands at the door and blast through it, sending all the townspeople back. The rest looked at her horrifyingly as Mina steps out of the shadows with her figure beaming in all purplish magic.

“KILL THE WITCH!!!” The all roared but Mina used her magic to dismantle every townspeople who go against her and YN, all in brutal fashion.

After she splits a woman in half in mid air with her innards and blood splattered across the room and into her face, she then got caught by the last three men by firing bullets at her, making her groan in pain.

They were about to do a double tap when you quickly stood back up despite being wrapped around in ropes. You attacked them by tackling and headbutting them away from Mina before you leave them for her to finish them all by exploding their brains out.

As she slowly calmed down and degenerates her magic, she breathe heavily and saw you staring at her in awe, speechless at her true identity as a witch. You know who she really is, but this is the first time you’ve seen her in her full potential.

Mina got afraid of how you will but in her surprise, you ran through her and reconciled with her in an embrace.

“A-aren’t you scared of me?”

“Of who you really are? I have accepted you since the beginning, I’m rather scared of what they might do to you.”

She immediately broke down in tears around your arms. “W-where have you’ve been all time? I thought you’ll leave me forever.”

“I’m sorry, Mina. I know, it’s all my fault that I didn’t inform you at all, but its all according to my plan and it has to be done.”

“So you knew about this?”

“I did. I overheard my tutors that one of them discovered your background of being a Myoui, a well-known family came from a coven of witches that they’ve… k-killed years ago. And since they knew me being close to you, I hide and there, I began making my plan to rescue you with the help of an informant.” You revealed the reason to your disappearance.

“Y-you did that f-for me? B-but you hurt yourself came all the way back here because of me… and you killed your-”

“Ofcourse and I don’t care about it, I rather can’t consume the guilt more of having you harmed than killing others who dares to lay their abusive hands at you. Y-you’re… you’re the only person I care… and love the most than anyone, Mina. You’re the only one I have left as much as you have me only in your life. I came here not just because I have to save you. I need you now, Mina. I can’t wait any longer again to see you.”

Mina cried again and buried her head deeper in your chest. “I need you now too, YN. And always. I’ve waited for you to come back.”

“And I’m here now, Mina. I’m never going away anymore. Whoever come across against us, we’ll face them together.”

You kissed her on the lips after breaking your hug with her. She was shocked at your action but it didn’t took her more time to catch up with your movement. As you and Mina stare at each other, both then smiled at this new found relationship that grew within your bond.

You helped Mina stand up and covered all her gunshot wounds, not minding your own evidence of violence through your beaten body. “I think we should go now, others will start coming here and they won’t like what they’re gonna see.”

You offered her hand at her and she looked at it before she returned her gaze at your face. “Should we run away from here?”

“I’ll follow you wherever we go.” Mina accepted, holding your hand with firm grip, enough to consider that she’ll forever stay by your side.

You nodded at her. Pulling her along with you, both left her house and all the deceased fellow townspeople inside as you escape the grotesque scene with Mina.

[thepersonnamedsam]

insomnia - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: you had insomnia but a certain person appeared

word count: 1k

warnings: none, some soft fluff

note: i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i couldn’t get max out of my head, i just couldn’t imagine someone else, i hope you see him in this too

masterlist / taglist

The only thing that you could hear was the soft wind blowing outside of your bedroom. It was dark, darker than most nights. The window was open - it was hot. During the day peak temperatures reached 38°C.

It wasn’t unusual for you to sleep with your windows open, but this night felt particularly off. You felt alone. Your bedside was empty. You knew this would happen from the moment you first laid eyes on him. You knew you would spend most nights alone. It was okay, well at least that’s what you told him.

What he didn’t know was, that you suffered from insomnia. Most nights were spent awake and alone. Some nights you tried to count the stars other nights you wished a dream upon others. But this night, yes this night you had a weird feeling. A feeling something might happen. Something unusual might happen.

It was indeed an unusual day. At first he didn’t read your messages or picked up any of your calls. And then you had this weird gut feeling you were being watched. But you checked all of the security footage - nothing.

So, you tried to close your eyes and imagine him by your side. You imagined his large hands reaching out for you in his sleep. You imagined holding only his pinky, because it would be too hot to have more skin to skin contact. You imagined his little snores and how much it actually annoyed you. You tried to imagine every little detail of his face, which was hard. You imagined his lips puffing up with every breath he took. You missed him.

Suddenly you were very aware of your surroundings. The hot and sticky room. The silky blanket on top of your feet. The curtains moving with the breeze. And the key in the front door.

Wait - the key in the front door? Was he coming home?

He didn’t expect you to be awake. He wanted to surprise you in the morning. He knew his life had its tolls, especially for you. That’s why he every so often tried to come home to you. He could only stay for the night, he had to leave the next morning - his flight leaving the next day again. But a few hours with you was all he wanted.

But that’s why he was a bit frightened when he saw you standing in the bed. You were prepared to attack the intruder. But when you saw it was him, you let your body relax and fall straight into his arms. You breathed heavily, his slow and steady breath helping you to relax. You couldn’t believe it, he was actually here. He didn’t say a word, just holding you close, so close he could feel your blood flowing through your body, or that’s what he imagined anyway.

Your breath steadied itself with the help of him, your heart still racing though. He was actually here. You let out a small giggle. His hand holding the side of your head. You pushed yourself from his body to take a good look at his face. His droopy and tired eyes were starting back into yours. The tiny lines underneath them. About seventeen freckles grazing over his nose and cheeks. Three moles on his face. You looked at his crooked smile. Pearly whites flashing you in the dark. Your heart was still beating like crazy.

You heard the wind outside, you heard him breath - calm and steady. You closed your eyes to feel his hands on your body. The calloused fingers were dancing over your naked skin. Lifting up your large shirt and grazing over your mid waist. A cool breath of air hit you skin - the breeze continued to breath outside, with the same steadiness he did at the moment. You felt his breath on your face, on your neck and goosebumps spread all over it.

You heard his lips part, you felt him come closer. You knew what he was going to do. His wet and warm lips trailed over your neck. Leaving wet kisses behind. Every so often he licked at your skin or even sucked at it. Your breath hitched. The wind knocked out of your lungs - you had trouble breathing. But he breathed life back into your body.

Everything he did felt surreal, just like this whole night felt unreal. You still felt his fingertips dancing over your body. From front to back. His hands on the small of you spine, he was tracing every vertebra. Slalom up to your neck, he gripped it and pulled you in for a kiss. You felt every tear in his lip, every time he didn’t use chapstick. But he tasted yours. He tasted the cherry blossom chapstick on your lips you always used. You had used it before you went to bed.

Hands were roaming your body and it felt like cloud nine to you. Not in a sexual way, but in a way you didn’t feel alone. In a way he was actually there with you. But you knew he wasn’t. You knew he wasn’t there with you and that all of this was just happening in your imagination. You knew it was Sunday and Max raced that day. You knew you were alone. You knew the temperatures were rising again as the sun rose and you knew you hadn’t slept a minute.

You knew your imagination could get pretty wild, but this was new. It was new for you to experience him in such a way. It was new for you to feel him so near. It was new, everything was. But you were glad to have actually imagined him and not just spent the night all alone, like you always used to.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

A Healing Kiss

This fic will cover my "Let me kiss it better." square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be in bold.

Summary: Y/N causes Dean a bit of damage. Can she fix it with a...kiss?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Just a little bit of smutty goodness. Blowjob. slight handjob. Oral (m receiving). Implied oral (f receiving). Crack if you squint.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,968

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. It came from @suckitands33 :

Oh I’d love ‘let me kiss it better’ how about along the lines of flirting Dean and reader. Nothing actually happening though then reader hurts Dean in the dick and balls by mistake and says that ‘line’ and dean thinks she’s joking but she follows through with it. Love a bit of mutual pining then they give in to their desires. 🙏🏼

The pining ended up being a bit more from the reader's POV, but there's a hint that Dean's in the same mindset. Hope you enjoy it, hon! Hope everyone enjoys it! If you do, please don't forget to reblog, comment and/or like. I so appreciate it! ❤️

The beautiful dividers are created by @talesmaniac89 .

“Shit! Shit! I'm so sorry!”

Y/N winced as Dean just groaned out his pain and rolled into the fetal position. 

“Dean! I'm so sorry!” She repeated, kneeling beside him, hands running up and down his sweaty bicep. “I just stumbled, I was aiming for your thigh.”

She grimaced again as she remembered the powerful kick she'd delivered, intending to connect with his meaty thigh, a move he could have blocked, or taken easily. They were training and Dean was on the attack, she was on the defense. But she’d just lost her center of gravity for a half second as she shot her foot out and she stumbled, landing the blow to a much more sensitive area.

Dean just waved at her as he sucked in deep breaths. She wasn’t sure if he was telling her it was okay, or telling her to get lost. Eventually he pulled himself up and disappeared into the bathroom. She thought he might be checking for permanent damage. She grabbed the bucket and filled it with ice from the machine just outside their room.

She knocked on the door of the bathroom. “Dean? I have some ice for you.”

The door opened a crack, but only Dean’s big hand stuck out, reaching for the bucket. He groped in the air for a minute until she grabbed his wrist and set the bucket on his palm. It disappeared back inside and the lock clicked. 

She sighed and flopped down on her bed. This was definitely not how she’d wanted this evening to go.

This was only the third time she’d been out hunting with the Winchesters; there was a lull in the case and they had to wait until the next day to interview a couple of witnesses to what they were fairly certain was a demon possession. So Sam was off with the pretty librarian they’d met earlier, and had texted Dean not to wait up. 

So it was just the two of them in the motel. This was the first time they'd ever been completely alone for any length of time and Y/N was feeling the tension. She felt as though there had always been a bit of something between them, just a spark that sprang to life sometimes, a touch here and there that felt like it could be much more if they allowed it.

Or at least, she thought there was a spark. She was a tiny bit worried she'd become delusional because of how badly she wanted the green-eyed hunter. So when Dean had suggested they spend their evening getting in some training, Y/N had jumped at the chance, hoping he was suggesting it as a way for them to get close - and physical. 

She did her best to be at least a little subtle in her excitement over the prospect of sweaty, hand to hand grappling with the hottest fucking man she’d ever known. Since they’d met less than a year before she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. She was crossing every finger she had that this evening would lead to something she’d been craving for a very long time.

Everything Dean did was sexy, every part of him made her melt - his thick, solid, hunter’s body, long and powerful and begging to be taken for a ride. His deep, rumbling voice, like a shot of strong whiskey, always made her shiver. His eyes and the way they held secrets and promises in equal measure within their mossy green depths. And that mouth - Jesus, it should be illegal for a man to have a mouth that pretty.

He was basically walking temptation and she desperately wanted to give in. 

But now, instead of using their physical closeness and panting exertion to finally get him naked, she’d probably made it impossible for him to have children. She clapped her hands to her face and tried not to scream.

Finally, ten minutes later, Dean came out of the bathroom. Y/N sat up as he set the bucket of melting ice onto the counter beside the coffee maker. She scrunched up her face in sympathy. 

“I’m really sorry.”

But Dean just shook his head and fell onto his bed. “Nah, it’s fine, sweetheart. I’ll live. But you should definitely use that kick on a bad guy; he’ll be down and out like that.” He said with a snap of his fingers.

Y/N bit her lip. “Good to know.”

Dean folded his arms behind his head and grinned at her. “Where’d you learn that little ninja kick, by the way? It’s pretty badass.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s much more badass when I don’t stumble and miss my target.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, I will admit that wasn’t exactly how I was hoping our sparring session would end.”

Y/N’s stomach clenched. She licked her lips, eyes locked with his. “Really? How uh…how were you hoping it would end?”

Those wicked promises were back in his gaze as he shrugged and smirked. “I was hoping to win, of course.”

“Ah, of course.” Y/N said, trying to gauge his mood. Was this friendly flirting or something more real? “Sorry I nailed you in the nads instead.”

Dean chuckled again, a low rumble. “I feel like that apology wasn’t as sincere as the others.”

Trying hard not to think of the consequences if she was reading him wrong, Y/N got up to walk to his bed and sit down at his hip. “I’m sorry, Dean.” She said sincerely, but slightly breathless. “Let me kiss it better.”

Dean’s eyes widened and warmed. His tongue darted out and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before letting it go, leaving it plump and wet and enticing. He forced another small laugh and a smirk. “That’s funny, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled and then moved her hand to his belt buckle, just resting it there. “And if I wasn’t joking?”

Dean breathed out roughly, his eyes downcast and staring at her hand. When they raised back to hers, the pupils were bleeding into his bright green irises. “Then I’d say, it will probably take more than a kiss to make it all better.”

Y/N’s grin became wicked as she worked at his belt with one hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Dean’s breathing picked up as she unzipped his jeans and reached her hand inside. She groaned along with him as she ran her hand over his underwear and along his incredible length. He was semi-hard already and so thick it made Y/N’s mouth water.

She tugged on his jeans and he lifted his hips to let her pull them off. She climbed onto the bed and straddled his bare legs before running her hands up his thighs. She dug her nails into the thick, meaty muscles there and Dean hissed.

She bent her head down and pushed his t-shirt up so she could lay wet, sucking kisses across his flat stomach. She lowered the waistband of his boxer briefs just a bit so she could bite into the taut v-shaped muscle that disappeared into his underwear, making Dean buck slightly beneath her.

He moved his hands from behind his head to grip the sheets in his big fists as Y/N slid down his body slightly so she could place a light kiss to the thick ridge straining against the black cotton.

“All better?” She teased. Dean huffed out a laugh and his voice was pure rasp as he answered.

“Not quite.”

She hummed and nodded. “Better get a closer look then.”

She slowly peeled his snug briefs down over his hips. He lifted for her again briefly and she freed his dick to slap against his lower abdomen. 

“Fuck me.” She said quietly as she took in the beauty of his perfectly marbled cock, long and thick and leaking.

“That's the idea, sweetheart.” Dean said with a breathy chuckle.

She leaned down to kiss the very tip, flicking her tongue into his slit and making his cock twitch. She moaned as she wrapped her hand around the base and couldn’t quite make her fingers touch. She began placing feather light kisses all along the shaft and she could feel it throb beneath her lips.

She pushed it flat against his stomach and swirled her tongue around each of his balls, earning a grunt and a ragged curse from Dean.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck.” He mumbled.

She mouthed her way up his shaft, teasing and tormenting him by occasionally scraping her teeth very gently over his velvety skin. Finally she closed her mouth tight around the tip pulling in her cheeks and sucking on him like a popsicle. He groaned deeply and her core muscles clenched painfully.

His left hand moved into her hair and he gave it a tug as she slid further down his length. “Yes, baby take it all, swallow me down.” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Y/N hummed her agreement and pushed down as far as she could, till he was touching the back of her throat. She dropped her jaw, and let go of the base of his dick so she could plant her hands on the mattress on either side of his hips and arch her neck so that she could take his whole cock, pressing her nose against his pelvic bone and letting him stretch her throat.

Dean’s hips bucked and she pulled all the way off of him, letting her spit and his cum keep them connected as she looked up the length of his body to watch him push his head back into the pillow and growl. His hand in her hair kept tugging and pulling as she began bobbing up and down on his cock. The slight sting spurred her on, and she moved faster and faster on him, letting him hit the back of her throat every time.

She pushed down hard on him and the spongy head of his cock slipped down her throat once again. She swallowed around him, and then sealed her lips tight and sucked hard as she pulled back up.

Dean pushed against her shoulders. “Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N gripped his dick in her hand again, pumping it a few times, before she opened her mouth wide and bounced his heavy cock against her tongue. Her saliva ran down his length, allowing her hand to glide over him smoothly as she kept milking him. Finally with a fierce yell, Dean gushed into her mouth and down her chin. 

She pumped him through his whole climax, licking and sucking on him as his hips stuttered and he finally fell back onto the mattress, spent and panting. Y/N cleaned him up with her tongue, making sure she got every drop.

As his breathing normalized and began to even out Dean grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward to fall across him. He brought her mouth to his and kissed her long and hard, not caring that he could taste himself on her lips. He rolled her over and pinned her beneath him before pushing to his knees and yanking his shirt off so he was completely naked. She was still fully dressed.

He tugged on her t-shirt. “Gotta do something about this.” He said as he pulled it off. 

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then gasped as he moved to unzip her jeans. “Does this mean my kiss worked?” She gasped. “Feeling all better now?”

Dean yanked down her jeans and panties with one tug and groaned as he saw how wet she already was. 

He nodded. “Yeah, much better, but now I’m starving.” He said with a grin before sinking down to feast.

[gurugirl]

A Delicate Thing* (check-in)

Summary: Y/n wants to know what's going on with her father and Harry doesn't want her to worry about it. But there's a big piece of news she wants to reveal when her worries are finally quelled.

A/n: You guys begged for more of this one and I started this check-in a bit ago but never finished it (until today!). Hope you enjoy! This is a check-in for A Delicate Thing (mafia!harry). 3.8k words.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, talk of violence and murder, anxious feelings

♤♤♤♤

It took a while for Y/n to get comfortable with the idea that she was no longer under the thumb of her father, William, and was now the Boss’s girl. She was treated with respect everywhere she went, was pampered, cared for, and doted upon by Harry.

But as the months turned into a year, she began to understand how awful her life had been before Harry. Her father kept a close watch on her. Told her not to eat too much, to wear certain clothes, to become acquainted with important topics but to act as if she didn’t understand, and worst of all was the way he enjoyed showing her off to his associates. She hated William.

“What are you thinking about,” Harry pulled her into his lap one morning as he sat at the kitchen table and drank his tea.

“I was just… it’s stupid. It’s in the past.”

“It’s not stupid. Don’t say that. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She put her hands up to the lapel of his suit and sighed before beginning, “Thinking about William. How much I hate him. For everything he did to me. And now he’s bragging about how his daughter is the Boss’s girl… as if he had anything to do with it.”

Harry hummed and had his palm spread out over her thigh, the silk material of her nighty smooth under his hand, “Is he now? I think it’s time for me to give him a lesson once and for all. But only if you want me to. I don’t want to do anything that will have you upset.”

“What will you do?”

“Hmm…” Harry pursed his lips to the side for a moment, “What would you like? Demotion? Public reprimand?”

Shaking her head she kept her eyes on her lover, “Something worse.”

Nodding his head he spoke again, “Have someone break his arms? Cut him off from the family?”

“Maybe that. Cutting him off. I think that would be the worst for him. And I wouldn’t need to see him again.”

“Your wish is my command, my love.”

♤♤♤♤

Harry didn’t like to spend time away from his girl. Before she came along he’d take trips for work and never think a second thought about being away from some chick he might have been seeing. But with Y/n, she was his everything. So he started having her come with him if the trip wasn’t going to be too dangerous. Even if it was only for one night. He didn’t like not having her in his bed at the end of a long day.

And now he was currently away for work and had brought Y/n along with him. They traveled with his underboss, Brad, to visit an associate to come to some kind of agreement. Y/n wasn’t sure of the details, she just knew she’d be staying at the large mansion during the day with security outside while Harry, his underboss, and the associate were meeting somewhere unknown.

Harry was generally a busy man. He came home late sometimes but he always came home and he always called her when he was on his way back to her.

It was nearly 9 pm and she was freshly bathed and wrapped in a thick robe as she watched TV from the bed. Her phone rang with the tone she set for Harry and she leaned over to pluck it up, “Hi,” she smiled widely.

“Hi, baby. I’m on my way back, okay? How was your day?”

“Oh it was good,” she plopped back down into the pile of pillows behind her and sighed, “George’s chef made me a really big brunch and I swam in the pool for a while.”

“Good girl. Sounds nice. Can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Harry was the most attentive and loving man she’d ever met. There wasn’t a day that had gone by since he took her away from William, that she didn’t feel his love for her. And she loved returning that love to him just the same.

When he finally returned to George’s mansion and entered their bedroom, half expecting her to be at the front door when he pulled up, he understood why. She was lying on the bed, naked, her legs open and facing the door (on purpose he supposed). He swiftly closed the door behind him as she grinned at him, “Hi, Harry.”

Harry slid his jacket off and draped it at the foot of the bed and climbed in between her legs, hooking the underside of her knees over his shoulders, “Hi, baby,” he spoke in a whisper before he kissed the inside of her thighs and then got to work right away.

He’d woken her up much in the same way, lapping at her slowly until she was shaking and gasping as quietly as possible, not wanting to let anyone else hear what they were doing.

And just like the morning, she was quickly brought to her end with her palm covering her mouth and her other hand grasping the blankets below.

When he let go of her legs and her body melted into the bed below she lulled her head to the side to watch Harry as he pulled his pants and his briefs off and climbed over her frame. She realized what he was doing immediately so she opened her mouth wide for him, sticking her tongue out before he stuffed his cock into her mouth and pressed down into her throat, her soft lips wrapped around him and she coughed around his tip.

Harry grasped the back of her head up from the pillow underneath and rolled his hips down into her. He’d gotten her used to taking him like this. She was always eager to please him, though, so it didn’t take much work. Soon, she was a natural at opening up her throat and letting him fuck her mouth until she was drooling and gagging happily.

“Baby, fuck… Needed this all day.”

And he really had needed it. He left her in the morning without having had anything in return because he didn’t have time. She was always his priority. He always made sure she got off first, even if that meant he didn’t have time to also get off.

But now they had time. They could sleep in the next day and he could fuck her brains out, almost literally in that moment, with his cock filling her mouth and inching its way into her throat.

When she signaled she needed a breath he pulled out and brushed the hair from her face. She gasped and drew breaths into her lungs for a moment before opening her mouth up and lifting her head to find his cock again.

“Hold on, love… needy girl,” he chuckled as he moved off of her. He was ready to make love to her, feel her warm pussy, and make her come once more with him. Fill her with his come.

He preferred coming inside of her pussy lately. Harry wanted to get his girl pregnant. Wanted to knock her up and really have a claim on her. She was already his, but he dreamed of having her carrying his babies. A good handful of them. And when he brought it up to her a few months ago, she agreed she’d like that too. She wanted to give him as many babies as he wanted.

Harry laid on his back and pulled Y/n over him, “Want to see you fucking yourself on my cock and coming again.”

She loved doing this. When Harry would lie flat on the bed and she’d climb over him, his big cock reaching deep and spreading her apart, her knees down as she leaned back and put her hands over his thighs, sliding over him, giving him a good view of the way she liked to fuck herself on him. Then he’d thumb at her clit and she’d tip over the edge.

She positioned herself over him and lowered onto his dick, her hands on his pecs at first. Harry put his hands behind his head as he watched Y/n work herself down over him. Small, muted moans fell from her lips and Harry groaned at the way she felt around him.

When she’d taken him in and she was seated over him she hissed at how deep he was. It always ached so nicely, “Your tip is pushing into my womb. I can feel it. You’re going to get me pregnant, Harry,” she spoke as she leaned back, putting her palms over his well-muscled thighs and began rolling her hips, her labia parting and spread as his wide cock was stuffed into her.

Harry’s mouth dropped open at the sight and her words. She was filthy sometimes without even trying, “Fuck. You want my come deep inside your womb?” He spoke through gritted teeth, the way she was moving over him felt too good, “Gonna milk my cock of everything I have and get yourself pregnant, baby? Let’s see it. Let me see how you fuck my cock and make me come inside of you, greedy girl.”

She nodded and whined as she continued her work, slipping up and down his long prick, her arousal making a mess of him. Soon, she planted her feet flat onto the bed and began to really move over him, lifting upward and coming down with a wet smack each time.

Harry was panting and grunting, gently shifting his own hips upward out of instinct. He couldn’t help but to respond to her creamy pussy as she squeezed and moved over him.

“Oh god… Harry, please!” She gasped louder than she wanted. Her little plea was something he’d gotten used to during their year together. It meant she wanted to come but needed help.

So Harry swiftly moved his hands from behind his head and sat upward enough that he could reach to rub her clit and give it the kind of pressure she required.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need. Use my cock, baby.” Harry’s words were tight and breathy as he spoke in between pants.

“I want your come so bad. Want to make you a daddy.”

Harry nearly burst at that moment but he groaned and closed his eyes as he sped up his fingers at her clit. She was nearly there. Just a few more minutes.

When her thighs began to shake and her moans grew louder and her words were incoherent curses and babbles of nonsense he knew she was feeling or orgasm bubble up and begin to spread.

Yes, fuck, yes! Come on baby,” he moaned as he watched her face contort as her jaw dropped and she threw her head back suddenly, a loud call of his name followed by unhindered moans as she came. Her pussy pulsed around him as she got herself off with his cock. Harry groaned and released into her, bucking his hips up to push himself into the hilt and to get as close to her deepest spots inside as possible making her tits softly bounce.

“Fuck, baby!” He growled lowly as his come filled her up, his throbbing dick being squeezed and fucked as he came.

When Harry opened his eyes she was lying over his chest, small puffs of breath coming out as she recovered. Harry rubbed his palms over her back and kissed her forehead, “Love you, sweet girl.”

♤♤♤♤

Now, one of the reasons for Harry going to his associate's home 8 hours away from where they lived was to also discuss the fate of William. Harry had told Y/n he could just cut him off. And he could. That decision was Harry’s. But cutting someone off and ex-communicating them from the family was more difficult than just killing them. There were a few reasons for that but in the end, Harry wanted to make his girl happy. So he needed some advice from his associate who happened to be well acquainted with William from work dealings.

Breakfast was served the in mansion’s large dining room with tall windows and gaudy curtains hung. Everyone was at the table. Harry and his girl, his underboss Brad, the associate George, and his wife Blanca.

And Y/n didn’t know the details of what was going on. Nor did she know the status of her father. Harry kept her in the dark from most of their dealings on purpose. So when she heard her father’s name mentioned her ears perked up and she looked at Harry, who she was sitting on at that moment. He insisted she sit in his lap, which was not out of the ordinary. Most of Harry’s work partners and friends had gotten used to seeing the girl in his lap almost all the time.

“So he’s been a problem lately?” George spoke.

“He’s been a problem for a long time. We’d like to have him cut off from the family but we don’t know if he’s involved in anything else. And since you work with him regularly I thought I’d see if you had heard of anything else he might have his hands in. Money owed, things like that.”

Brad spoke next, “I told the boss we should just make him go away for good but the girl here is William’s daughter.”

George nodded, “I see. That makes this a difficult thing to say then, because I don’t see any way to cut him off with how many people would be after him. If you push him out and send him away without the protection of the family, he’ll be killed either way. But not before probably spilling details about your organization. And mine. He’ll be tortured and he’ll talk. It could compromise a lot of our operations.”

Y/n stayed quiet as she listened to the men talk about her father. She hadn’t realized this was a possibility. That William would need to be killed. It was one thing to have him cut off and she’d never hear from or see him again. But to know that he might be killed? Dead?

“Yes. That is my concern. I’d like a list of all of the relationships and affairs he’s got going on with your organization and then we’ll put something together on our end and make a decision about this,” he squeezed Y/n’s hip to let her know he was still keeping her wishes in mind.

On the road back home, Y/n finally voiced her concern about her father, “So we can’t cut him off or send him away, because that risks everything. But if he stays on in the organization… is there any other option?”

Harry wound their fingers together and pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, “You mean other than killing him? Sure. But I don’t think you’ll like any of the other options.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, he could just continue working and making money for us. I could keep him away from you but he will be around. Another thing that could work would be to frame him and send him to prison for good. He’d be protected in prison but you’d never have to see him again.”

“But won’t he talk to the police? Tell them he’d been set up?”

“Not if I make it look like a sacrifice of honor. Tell him I’ll raise his title and thus his respect in the organization. He won’t roll on us if he knows he’ll be doing it for the family and that he’ll be earning the respect of everyone.”

“But what would you frame him for? What would put him away in prison forever?”

“Murder.”

♤♤♤♤

Y/n understood that sometimes things in the organization could be violent. People died, went to jail, wound up in hospitals… But to think about her father being framed for a murder he didn’t commit? Could she come to terms with that? Who would have to die? Who would kill the person? She asked all these questions but, as usual, Harry told her not to worry.

But she was worried. And not just about William. She’d gotten news of something else that morning that shocked her. It shouldn’t have but it did. Unfortunately, the lingering questions she had about her father overshadowed everything else that was on her mind.

She hated William. That was true. But she didn’t want him dead. She also didn’t want Harry to get into trouble for anything. And when it came down to it, when she thought about all the outcomes, the worst were always the ones that had Harry in prison and away from her or dead. She actually preferred her dad dead than to have Harry go to prison.

Even though it had been weeks since Harry had met with George, she still hadn’t gotten word about what was going to become of William and she felt anxious. She hated not knowing. She trusted Harry but she needed to know what the plan was. She wanted Harry to tell her everything. It was for a reason that he kept her in the dark about things, but this was personal for her. This specific thing was about her father.

When Harry came home that evening their routine looked much like it normally did. Y/n climbed into his lap and kissed him and he held her and decompressed for a bit before he was ready to finally eat. She heated his food and poured him a glass of wine and they sat together at the dining table and she told him about her day.

But underneath what felt very normal to Harry, Y/n was getting up the nerve to insist he tell her the plan regarding William.

When she put his plate into the dishwasher and refilled her own glass of wine she joined him on the couch and curled into his side and sighed.

Looking up at him she realized there was nothing to worry about. Harry had never been mean to her or made her feel bad for asking questions. He’d either tell her or he wouldn’t. She only hoped she was able to argue her point and make him understand that this was something she deserved to know.

“What’s going on with William? Have you decided anything?”

Harry continued softly rubbing his hand over her hip and her side as he spoke, “I don’t want you to worry about it, love. Okay? Everything is going to be taken care of.”

She knew he’d answer that way. But she was prepared.

“I trust you, Harry. I really do. But this is my father. And this is personal to me. And you tell me not to worry but I do and I can’t help but to worry.”

Harry turned to look at his girl and nodded in thought. He knew it was personal to her. And normally when he told her not to worry about something she’d drop it. But the fact that she was doubling down on this made him pause. He still didn’t want her to know. He wanted to protect her from the awful truth.

“My sweet girl. I know this is personal. But what good will it do for you to know how we’ll go about this? You know our options here and none of them are very nice. I don’t want you to be upset thinking about it and dwelling on it.”

Y/n turned herself to face Harry squarely, “I’m already dwelling on it. I need to know. I deserve to know. I wouldn’t ask you and insist on something that doesn’t somehow involve me. But this does. I need to know.”

Harry smiled and took a deep breath, bringing his hands up to her face, and gently drew her in for a small kiss before he sat back into the couch and cleared his throat, “One of George’s men was involved in something that got him brutally killed. Right now we’ve made it look like William was the murderer. It’s only a matter of time before the police investigate him and find him guilty. And as you may know, your father has been arrested for battery and assault multiple times in the past and so a murder charge wouldn’t surprise anyone looking to find the perpetrator. He will go to prison for a very long time because the murder was quite savage. If the police think William did that, they won’t want him released.”

Y/n nodded and bit her lip before speaking up, “And like you said at George’s, he’ll think he’s doing a favor to the family? He won’t talk?”

“Exactly. We’ll make sure of it. We’ll supply him with plenty of my money on his account for commissary, and bartering. And he’ll have a nice cell by himself. He’ll be treated well but we’ll never have to worry about him again.”

She let out a breath of relief. It was ideal if it worked, “And you’re sure this will work out?”

Harry let out a small laugh and pulled at her, bringing her to his lap, his favorite way of sitting with her, “Baby, it’ll work. If you don’t think we have a cop on our payroll to make sure of it then you must not realize the kind of power I have.”

Y/n smiled and put her arms over his shoulders, “I know how powerful you are. And I am so happy I’m here with you,” she brought her arms down and took Harry’s hands in hers, moving his palms to cover her low tummy, “So happy for everything that’s to come.”

Harry stitched his brows together as he took in her words and her gesture, looking from where she placed his hands to her face, “Are you… is this?”

She nodded quickly, “We’re gonna have a baby.”

He was stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected it. Sure they’d been a little loose with him coming in her during her fertile days, and he knew they were both in their prime and fully fertile so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. This was what they had wanted.

“You… when did you find out?” Harry cupped her tummy with more intention now, his eyes wide.

“This morning.”

He let out a small breath and grinned from ear to ear, his dimples carving into his cheeks, and pushed Y/n off of his lap and down to the couch as he lifted her dress upward so he could look at her tummy, placing small kisses all around her skin and over her belly button. Y/n squeaked in laughter at the way his curls brushed her soft flesh as he drew his lips over her tummy slowly. She put her hands into his hair and sighed, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and continued dragging his mouth downward until he lowered her panties and looked up at her from between her legs, “I love you too, baby. Now let’s celebrate.”

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[woaza]

Hi hi! I am so glad to see more delico's nursery fic, especially from you!! It's a crime the fandom is so small. Lately, I have been obsessed with Gerhard and devouring all your fics like a gourmet meal. Could you write about him being married to a high-position officer (like being part of the High Executive of the Blood Police)? So she is really strong and her true strength lies in her exceptional combat skills, strategic mind, and emotional resilience. Kinda like Mikasa Ackerman level AHAHAHAH I am just a sucker for strong lady :DD I hope you don't mind this long request and remember to take care of yourself!!!

Gerhard x Fem!Officer

Contains : Headcannons!

Word count : 4k

Warnings : Slight mentions of violence in a job setting, Gerhard really ‘appreciating’ readers fit figure, Gerhard a little sexiest? Also not double read through for grammar mistakes.

A/n : I’m so so so happy you like my fics! I’m sorry for the wait on your request. I hope you enjoy it.

— Gerhard was podstivly stunned. When he first saw you. You shook him to his core a bit for sure. You’re very being conflicting with his base beliefs. Such a strong figure and energy you carried. And your a women in the blood police? Why would a woman as beautiful as you want to work in such a violent occupation? Let alone a high executive? Yeah he definitely has his eyes on you.

He saw you at the agency in your Uniform. Badges run down your coat, you boots clicking across the tile as you walked. Not speaking or even giving him a second glance. His eyes visibly widened and he caught his breath, only slightly. Choosing to not let it affect him. Yet for some reason after that one close encounter in the small hallway he started to notice you more often. That’s how your whole romance with the stern man started, his shock.

— After that consider Gerhard your devoted husband. Yeah he was hooked. You didn’t spare him a second glance? Probably didn’t even know who he was other than one of the agencies detectives? Long story short, he ended up over working himself just for even a glance or head nod from you until you and him finally got a proper introduction.

— Lord Fra is a man of a certain cut. He only likes to see things his way. His wife, you, being one of the voices of reason in his life. He listens to you. Like really listens. Never in a million years would he ask anyone for help on a classified assignment but you. Each time he’s stumped you always seem to have an idea or solution, your intelligence without a doubt is his favorite feature about you.

He sits in his chair clutching onto the documents scattered across his desk. The fire place cracking loudly, much to his annoyance. How sometimes he wished he could simply sit in pure silence. This case had him almost completely stumped. His eyebrows furrowed so deep that it seemed as his skin would permanently crease. A the door gently creeks open and you strut into the room. “Still on the Mr.Morhead case?” Walking behind him and leaning over his shoulder. Your hands moving to rest on either side of his neck. He does nothing but grumble a bit. “Did you check with his wife, I haven’t seen a file or report come though about her yet?” You whisper quietly, patiently as you scan over the papers. His eyes widen, he wasn’t aware or even informed the man was married. You always seemed to point out little details he missed. It may seem like it annoys him, but don’t be fooled. He loves it.

— He could rave and rave about your mind for days. Unlike other women he’s tried to pursue you are by far the most extraordinary.

— Will go out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you, even if it’s a second. Sometimes you spend early mornings in the Garden with Angelico and one of the house maids. Even though the South wing hall is completely out of his way when he’s leaving for work, he will walk through that because it’s the only one with windows facing the area of the garden your drink your morning tea in. It literally a brief moment and completely out of his way, but he makes the effort.

— Further on that, everything about you to him is perfect. Nothing less for the head of the house Fra. In the weekend evenings when you go in for a bath, ignoring how it improper it is. He likes to help you undress for your bath. His eyes locked onto your lean muscles. Your body a work of art, showing every hour that you’ve put into your work. He finds your dedication extremely attractive.

— Never can beat you in chess, it’s drives him a bit mad. Your ability to always be one step ahead of him is simply humbling. Which is a hard feeling for him to be grapple with. ‘Lord Fra being beaten by his wife in a simple game of chess?’ He can practically hear people say (which no will never know of it and he’ll be sure of that) and it’s embarrassing for him. Then he look up at you sitting across the board heavily contemplating your next move, “oh yes, that’s my wife… the general and head of command.” It makes his fragile ego feel better.

—In the end you never ever cease to amazing and will never admit it, but worships the very air your breath. 

A/n #2: sorry this was a little short! Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I’ll have to elaborate on this more. I liked this request a lot!

[otteropera]

Home (Jon Snow x Reader)

A/N - Only took me, what, like three months to finish this request? I kept coming back to it and re-reading and changing it but I finally FINISHED IT! The wonderful @pastanest requested this one so shoutout to her, if you are thirsting for Jon Snow (like me) GO CHECK HER OUT!!! She is an amazing writer and a wonderful person <3

Warnings - blood, RAMSAY BOLTON, violence... its game of thrones tbh

Word count - 5.7k

The fire had gone out weeks ago. No one who came in bothered to replenish it with wood, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do it, with my wrists chained to the floor. I'd had a lot of time to think about things. About my past, about Sansa, about what led me to this moment, about Jon.

I found that my mind went wandering to him quite often.

Nineteen years ago, after Robert’s Rebellion ended, many reunions were had. Fathers saw their children and wives saw their husbands. It was a sigh of relief for people who had their loved ones taken away, forced to fight the Mad King. My mother waited with baited breath, staring at the horizon everyday for months, praying to all the Gods that she would see him in the distance, finally returning to her. She held her budding belly with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe that she was living in a world without him.

She later passed away on the birthing bed.

If it weren’t for the wet-nurse that was able to arrive so quickly from a town over, I wouldn’t have made it. When word got to Eddard Stark that I was in fact alive, and without parents, he was quick to get me over to Winterfell. I don’t remember my life before the Starks, and I don’t have much of a need to. I befriended the Stark children and was welcomed into their home with open arms. My father gave his life in service to the realm, they felt it was the least they could do. From what Lord Eddard remembered of my parents, they were utterly and wholly in love.

Sansa and I clicked when we were younger. Although I was a few years older than her, we got along very well. We would brush each other's hair and put it in pretty braids, we'd giggle when the stable boys would flirt with us, and she would tease me for my crush on Jon. Once the two of us were of age, I was assigned as her lady-in-waiting. It was sort of like being Sansa's ‘official friend’, which wasn't hard. It really didn't change much; we got to spend all of our time together.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could go back to those days. When we were younger, we'd help sneak Arya out of her room and run down the corridors to the kitchen to steal any lemon cakes that were left from dinner. I was almost certain that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn knew what we were doing, but let us have our fun when they heard the laughter from the kitchens late at night.

"What are you doing?"

Jon stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. Arya, Sansa, and I stilled, crumb-covered mouths tightly shut. I wasn't sure if it was our lack of sleep or the definite sugar high, but Arya burst out laughing, spewing bits of cake over the table, while Sansa and I did our best not to copy her, covering our mouths and stifling our laughs. With my quick and shy glances to Jon, I could tell he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face.

"I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bran."

Bran was notorious for stealing sweets. I hoped that wherever Sansa had escaped to, she got to eat as many lemon cakes as she pleased. It had been months since she got away from Ramsay’s hold, and sometimes I wondered if she would leave me here for good.

It was an awful thing to think, I knew that, but Ramsey knew how to get under my skin (literally) and drill some awful things into my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done to Sansa. Thankfully, he could go days without bothering to torment me, which usually meant that I didn’t get to eat either, but I was more than willing to trade that for some time away from Ramsay. The room that I’d been confined to was small and drafty, from what I could guess used to be an extra storage room for food, with the old flour bags and rotting potatoes. They were my bed most nights. Though I have to admit, it’s a step up from the cell outside with the dogs. Ramsay had been keeping me there until Sansa found out and refused to eat until I was moved to an actual room. She even got me a makeshift fireplace in an old cooking pot.

I was convinced that the only reason I was able to stay sane was by staying in my mind. Thinking of ten years ago, when I was growing up here with Sansa, Arya… Jon. When I was safe and happy and took everything for granted.

There was some irony in it. The place that I grew up in, that allowed me to build the friendships and relationships that I had, that allowed me to be free of the pain of growing up without a family, was then the same place that kept me from being with mine.

The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had chained me here. Ramsay knelt in front of me, placing down a bowl of stew. One glance at it and I was salivating. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, all steaming gloriously in the bowl in front of me. That was… odd. I’m not one to turn down a hot meal, especially when I hadn’t eaten in days, but I knew the games Ramsay played. I knew that there was… something else to it. Ramsay sat on the floor across from me, with that sick little half-smirk.

“It’s rude to refuse food from the Warden of the North,” he commented, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“He didn’t put this in front of me. You did.”

Ramsay let out a dry laugh, not letting his smile fall. I only managed to get that look off his face once, and I paid for it. However, I still found myself accepting the challenge of knocking Ramsay’s ego down a peg.

“I see you’re in a fine mood today, that’s good,” he paused, “I have good news.”

That was saying something, coming from him.

“The bastard is coming.”

I froze at that. It took a moment to realize that that’s what he wanted, he always wanted to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him any satisfaction. I had to stop myself from meeting his penetrating stare.

“I’d spoken to him earlier, along with my dear wife,” his emphasis on the word ‘wife’ made me want to vomit. “They’ll be coming to Winterfell tomorrow to try to take it from me, with lesser men. And when they lose," Ramsay's voice got quieter as he leaned in towards me, "Sansa will watch me flay you living. She will watch me feed you to those dogs, she will watch as you die in that cell, screaming and bleeding. I will make her understand what happens to those she cares about when she betrays me." His pitch black eyes stared into mine as I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t think I'd ever truly, wholly, and honestly wished for someone to die a painful death as much as I wished it for that man. I swallowed harshly.

"Winterfell has never been yours. It never will be," I whispered. He leaned back, loosening up, but his eyes looked empty as ever. And he smiled some more.

“Jon sounded awfully concerned for you.” No. No. “I’m assuming Sansa had told him about your… conditions here.” That was a nice way to put being held prisoner in your own home. “I wasn’t aware that you two had such a history.” I shouldn’t have even looked at him. All the emotion that I was trying to hide, he saw right through. The more I spoke, or acted, or looked, the more leverage he had against me. It was an impossible struggle.

“Don’t worry,” he leaned closer, his breath hot and putrid. There was nowhere for me to go. “I won’t kill him before I let him see you,” he snatched my face in his free hand, his grasp firm and unwavering. I felt the cool tip of a knife rest on my cheekbone. “He will see just how you’ve been holding up.” He dragged the knife agonizingly slow down the bare flesh, I was sure I would pass out. “And he will see all that I’ve done to you.”

I didn’t eat the stew until after he left. The chains rattled as I reached forward for it, slugging from the bowl like an animal. I didn’t like eating while he watched. Something about it felt… humiliating. Like he was watching one of his dogs rip someone apart after not feeding them for weeks, like he was proud of the way he had starved me. I was sure he was. I was sure he would love to see me eating like it was the last meal I’d ever indulge in.

***

Jon was outside the banquet hall, in the courtyard, slashing away at a dummy with his sword. The mead sloshed in their cups as I stepped toward him.

"I think you won," I commented once I got within earshot. He turned around, his face lighting up at my presence just enough for me to notice, causing my face to flush. "I smuggled you out a drink," I outstretched one of the cups, which he took while catching his breath.

"What am I missing in there?" Jon questioned, referring to the dinner party with the King and Queen, taking a slug from the cup.

"Well... the King is drunk, Sansa's gushing over Prince Joffrey, and Arya just got in trouble for catapulting food at her," I explained. Jon chuckled at the thought of it. "So nothing new, as far as our dinners go."

Jon went quiet, surprisingly. He'd tend to have a lot to say when I was around. His gaze was fixed on the cup, lost in thought.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. I've known him to be a bit upset about being forbidden from dinners, but he was usually better at hiding it.

"There's something I've been thinking about, that I want to tell you," he breathed out. "I'm taking the black. I leave the same day as the royal party with my Uncle Benjen." His eyes were on mine. I felt... conflicted. I was happy for him, I knew he'd do well up at Castle Black, given his bravery and swordsmanship. I knew that we all couldn't stay in Winterfell forever, that we were growing up. However, something in me hoped that wherever Jon would go, I could follow. The bastard and the Lady's maid.

"I'm happy for you." Truly, I was. I knew he'd always been worried about making something of himself. He would never have lands or a title, so it made sense he would seek to prove his worth through service to the realm.

"Thank you." There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"From what I've heard I'll be going to King's Landing with Sansa. Serving as her handmaiden."

Jon hummed in response. He seemed to have the same reaction to my news as I had to his.

"I'll write to you," he commented. I didn't even bother trying to hide my growing smile.

"I'll write back."

***

The days were cold, but the nights felt colder. Ramsay sent in a Maester to treat the wound that he inflicted. I was no use to him dead, of course. It was sore to the touch. Through the small, barred window in the room, I could see that the sun was setting, as it did every night, and as it will continue to do well after I die in that place.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the throbbing pain in my face. It felt like it was on fire, which meant that my body was probably fighting an infection from the cut. Looking out my small window, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the clouds, leaving the sky a gloomy, milky gray.

Sometimes, when I was just waking up, I would forget where I was. I could open my eyes and be in King's Landing, with Sansa and Arya and Ned Stark. Or I could be waking up here in Winterfell, but in my own bed, in my own room, right across from Sansa's, how it used to be. Those moments were my favorite. When my mind was still fogged with sleep and I could swear that just yesterday I was reading in the Godswood with Jon. Sometimes I would see how long I could go before opening my eyes. It felt like when I did so, it cemented the pained reality of where I was, and who I was without. It's silly, really. No matter how hard I tried, I would still wake up surrounded by these four walls, in the same house that was no longer a home.

I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next time I rose I was awakened by the sounds of chaos outside. The window in my cell was far too high for me to see ground level out of, even if I wasn't chained. I had to use my hearing to discern what was happening.

The scrambling and shouting of soldiers, and a loud, rhythmic bang... bang... bang. It was coming from the front gate. Was... was it a siege? There was a shrieking of a creature that I couldn't name, and then more shouting and yelling, the clanging of swords. Then it stopped. I held my breath. It felt like ages until I could hear anything else.

Footsteps raced towards the door. I could hear muttering on the other side. There were two very different ideas of who could be coming to me at such a rush, one of which made bile rise in my throat.

"This has to be it, I know that he kept it locked and I remember it being by the kitchens," the sweet, feminine voice rushed out. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Sansa?" My voice was hardly a whisper as I croaked out the name. I jumped when the door started shaking as though it was being kicked in. The chains clicked as I scrambled to stand up. Had they won? Was Winterfell back to the Starks? Was Jon here?

The door burst open and I locked eyes with the one who had been infiltrating my thoughts. He looked much more grown than I'd remembered. His dark, curly locks were pulled back with only a few strands in the front that had burst free. There were streaks on his face where dirt and blood had been haphazardly wiped away. Sansa engulfed me in a hug, pulling me in so tight I was sure she could tell just how little Ramsay was feeding me.

"I'm so sorry it took so long for us to get here, my escape wasn't planned, I would've never left without you if I'd known-"

"Sansa," I cut her off from her babbling, pulling back from the hug and holding her at arm's length. There were tears welling in her eyes, as well as mine. "It's okay, I'm okay." She let out a shaky breath, looking relieved I didn't resent her.

"Ramsay had the key on him." It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, her and Jon's arrival had almost made me forget that I was still chained in the room. For the first time since she'd come in, she acknowledged Jon's presence by turning back towards him. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. To him, I guessed I might be one. He blinked a few times, seeming to snap out of his stupor and reached in his pocket, handing the rusty key over to Sansa. When the manacles fell with a clank to the floor, I felt like I could finally breathe. I rubbed the skin that was under them, it was red and irritated, which wasn't surprising.

"Are you hungry? I'll see what can be made.”

***

"It's for you." A boyish Jon stood at the foot of my bed, on unsteady feet, with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. Even from the distance it smelled heavenly.

"You didn't have to, I was about to go to the kitchens," I complained, sitting up. Jon made his way around the bed, delicately placing the soup in my cold hands.

"Are you feeling any better?" I saw his hand start to move up as he asked the question, only to stop himself. Was he going to feel my forehead?

"A little," I lied, sipping from the side of the wooden bowl. The soup was hot and delicious; it had been prepared with herbs that were still growing outside. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He gave a small shrug but smiled anyway. "I'm just glad to see that you're eating again."

"Me too," I said, trying a spoonful this time. It was potato soup, my favorite. Had he known? Jon sat down next to me before continuing.

"I feel awful." I snapped my head up at his statement.

"Why? Are you feeling ill too?" I stammered, shifting under the furs. He chuckled through his nose.

"No," he sighed, "the stable hands warned me they were still training that horse, but I'd ridden her before and she was fine. I can't believe she threw you off like that, into the stream of all places." I had to suppress a smile, thinking back to the other day. Jon offered to teach me to ride a horse, as no one else would bother, and we'd spent the better part of a day out in the woods. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. Towards the end, my horse had gotten a bit fussy and, well…

Jon was quick to get my sopping wet figure back into the gates of Winterfell, but it wasn't quick enough to stop me from catching a cold. I truly didn't mind. Any time spent with Jon was valuable to me.

"Don't feel bad, it's part of learning... people fall. In streams, sometimes," I muttered towards the end.

Jon's face pulled into a smile at my comment. "Well, let's hope your second attempt at riding doesn't involve a broken bone or two."

***

Potato soup. I was sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in furs, with a bowl of hot potato soup that conspicuously arrived. In that moment I wondered if I truly had passed away at Ramsay’s hand, if that was real, if I was just dreaming, still locked in the room.

I knew that I should eat, but the hollowness of my stomach made the food smell less than desirable. Sansa hadn't left my side since she'd unlocked the chains and brought me into the room, going on about the past few months. I hadn't said much.

"How do you feel? You’re quiet,” she bit her lip. 

My throat hurt, it was dry. I swallowed hard, clearing it before answering.

“Okay. It's just so good to be warm." I had no idea how long I'd been cold. I often stayed balled up in that room, as tight as I could. I tucked my extremities into myself and dreamed of the sun. I took a breath and brought the bowl to my lips.

"Jon was shocked to hear you were still alive." I almost choked on the soup. Sansa smiled, one that looked devilish. "I knew you were close when we were younger, but I wasn't expecting him to react how he did," Sansa thought out loud.

"How did he react?" My curiosity got the best of me. I set the bowl down on the small table next to me.

"I'd told him soon after Brienne, Poddrick, and I arrived at Castle Black," I quirked my head at the names, but she was too consumed in her story to notice, "that you were still at Winterfell. He was furious, he wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him." Sansa looked down, wringing her hands. "I convinced him to wait, to gather more men. Otherwise it would have been a slaughter."

I put my hands on hers, her glossed eyes met mine.

"You did the right thing," I reassured her. I knew she felt guilty for not getting here sooner, but she did what was best. I'd feel worse if they'd come sooner, and Ramsay's threats rang true.

"Rickon-" Sansa choked a sob, "h-he-"

I shushed her and put my arms around her shoulders. I'd seen some Winterfell men carrying his body through the gates on our way to this room. "I know," I whispered, shedding tears of my own. I didn't dare ask her how he died, I knew enough. That it was by Ramsay's hand, without a doubt.

We sat for a while longer, both comforted by the silence. The warmth of the fire and the contentment of the soup helped me relax. I realized that I'd been clenching my teeth, so I released them. I'd been in an awful lot of pain the past few months. The wound on my face would leave a plump scar, that I was sure of. Our silence was interrupted by a few maids entering with warm buckets of water for a bath. The mischievous smile on Sansa's face told me she had planned that. It wasn't until the maids had filled up the tub and left that I got the courage to ask the question that was lingering in my mind.

"Where's Jon? I haven't seen him since..." since I was freed from my cell? Since I saw him for the first time in years? Since he looked at me and his stare penetrated my being?

"I believe he's with some of the men of Winterfell, gathering up any survivors of Ramsay's men in the castle," she replied, giving me a look. She knew why I asked. I could only imagine what Jon was doing to Ramsay’s men "I'll leave you to it," she stood, her long furs flowing down to her ankles. It was then that I realized this room was intended to be mine. "I'm sure a bath is just what you need." I nodded in response, and she swiftly exited the room.

***

Jon hissed and pulled back slightly at the damp cloth I held against his temple.

"I have to clean it, Jon," I pleaded.

"I know," he breathed out. "It stings." I could see the pain in the way he scrunched up his face.

"I’m sorry." His eyebrows scrunched together at my apology, his eyes locked to mine. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Jon and I had a silent understanding of each other. While we had different reasons for being at Winterfell, we were both seen as slightly less-than the Stark children. Of course, I wasn't scolded by Catelyn nearly as much as Jon was. However, we were both instructed to stand behind the Stark's during the Royal family's arrival, never with them. While Jon was told not to attend the feast at all, I was tasked to stay at Sansa's side.

We noticed these differences, we saw them at a very young age, and we protected each other. We looked out for one another in an unspoken pact, that was shown by Jon walking me to my chambers late after the sun went down, and my defending him when Catelyn was always too harsh.

"Jon, I was fine. Those stable boys didn't cause me any harm."

"They were throwing cow shit at you," Jon blurted out. I had to suppress a grin, he was fuming. 

"Well, they didn't have very good aim," I muttered. Jon returned his hardened gaze to the gloves that were clutched in his hand, he must not have found my comment very funny.

"Eddard and Catelyn will have an earful for you, you know. Especially Catelyn." He turned away from me.

"I know," he said quietly, "those boys didn't put up much of a fight," Jon pulled my hand down, and grasped it in his. "I'd do it again." My heart fluttered and I swallowed hard.

***

I recalled the memory in the bath. It was so vivid, his warm hand gripping my fingers, his eyes locked on mine and saw everything inside them. It was the first time he ever offered to defend me like that.

I had scrubbed myself too hard in the bath and opened the wound on my face. I stayed in the water until it turned murky and cold. I wanted to rid myself of every piece of Ramsay, though I knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least, not for a long time. My only motivation for exiting the bath was the small trickle of blood down my face. After drying off and dressing, I exited the chamber and made my way to what used to be Maester Luwin’s space. Surely, there would be a healer of some sorts there.

It was dark outside, the moon shone bright above. A chill breeze blew through the halls. I pulled my furs tighter against me and walked to the door, opening it. There was no one inside. The room was littered with medical supplies, my best guess was whatever Maester was here had been out tending to any wounded men from the battle. Though I'd patched up Arya's scrapes and scratches from playing too rough with Bran before. With the supplies here, I could fix myself up. It took me a moment of fumbling through the shelves and drawers to find a healing balm in a small wooden bowl. The smell of it reminded me of Maester Luwin. His hands were always covered in the minty salve.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall startled me, and I nearly dropped the bowl. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I was almost certain I knew who it was. I didn't waste a moment, rushing to the door and opening it. Jon was standing in front of me, his dark hair smoothed back, the moonlight made shadows dance across his face. He wore a plain black tunic with his cloak over it. The air rushed from my lungs. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, standing there, gazing at each other. But I felt like I could spend the rest of my days looking into his warm brown eyes, and I would be content.

"You stopped writing back." There was a hint of amusement in his words, the type that only someone who'd known him well enough could pick up on. I did.

I didn't bother trying to hold back the smile and the tears as we engulfed each other. His arms felt strong and real. One of his hands held me at the back of my head, pulling me so close to him that there was no room for doubt. His breath felt warm on my neck, sending a dance of shivers down my back. I sniffled, holding onto him with every part of me. We stayed together like that for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, he broke our embrace, keeping his hand on the back of my head, holding it, holding me. "I've missed you."

My lips quivered when I spoke, unable to form the right words. "I... I've missed you too." There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many stories and so many people that I'd met, but he looked at me so intently that words fell flat on my tongue.

He held my gaze and I was sure I'd burst into flames. "How are you?" he asked softly. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides there?" His calloused thumb brushed just below the cut on my face. By the gods, I must’ve been a thousand shades of red.

He'd gained a few new scars himself, his face was littered with them. The little nicks in his skin and the dark shadows of his face made him look so... mature. He was no longer the boy who's cheek I'd pecked before he left for the Night's Watch. "No," I said quietly, wringing my hands. "Nothing serious. Just cuts and bruises."

"That's serious," he started analyzing me, trying to find any, "it's you." I smiled again.

"Come here." He dropped his hand from me, closing the door behind him. I immediately missed the warmth he brought to my skin. I turned to follow him, and saw that he was already holding the bowl of salve. With feather light touches, he began to apply to the wound on my face. It stung at first, if only for a moment, but once the minty coolness took effect, I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized I closed my eyes until Jon placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head sideways to get better access to the cut. When I opened them, they found his. The downward curve of his brow told me something.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice cracked a bit, and I cleared my throat.

Jon shook his head, leaning back against the wooden desk. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wanted to come sooner, but we didn't have the men," his soft brown eyes followed the curve of the wound down my face, "I'm sorry." For a moment, I thought I saw a wetness in his eyes.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "For what? Winterfell is back to the Starks. You did what you had to do."

His expression softened. "I know," he said quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for keeping Sansa safe the past few years." He reached out to brush the hair away from my forehead, and I could feel the heat radiating off his hand. "She told me everything. About Joffrey, Baelish... Ramsey." He spat out the last name with venom as his jaw hardened.

"Is he...?" I didn't need to finish asking the question for Jon to understand.

"Sansa put him with his hounds. I don't imagine he'll be there much longer."

I knew exactly what that meant, and a breath of relief left me, one I never knew I was holding in. Though I'd felt relieved, I knew that it wasn't the end of Ramsay's torment. He would continue to haunt the darkest parts of my mind. I would continue to have nightmares where his touch was everywhere, and no matter what I did or said, I couldn't shake him off of me. I'd only experienced a fraction of what Sansa had from him. I couldn't imagine what she'd been going through. She was stronger than me, that I knew for certain. I made a mental note to talk to her about, at the very least let her know that I was willing to, if that was what she chose. Jon's warm hand on my arm pulled me from my thoughts. He was looking at me, expectantly.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd like me to walk you back to your room," his voice was laced with concern.

I tried not to show how his offer made my heart squeeze. I nodded. We walked side by side through the castle halls, silent except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting around us. Once or twice, we passed another person, but neither of us acknowledged their presence. The silence was nerve-wracking. It didn't take long before we reached my room, a small smile tugging at his lips. I stopped short outside the doors, turning to face him. He was right behind me.

"Was the potato soup any good?" Jon asked, and it took only a moment before it clicked in my head.

"That was you?"

"So it's still your favorite, I take it?"

"I-... yes."

Jon smiled and nodded his head slightly, stepping back. He was starting to leave. A burning ache ran deep inside me. I felt myself longing for him, although he was right in front of me. "Jon..." I paused. His presence was doing that thing again where it made it very hard for me to speak. I needed him to say something. Anything. So when he said nothing, I continued. "Would you... stay, for a little while? Please?" I finished lamely.

It was all the encouragement he needed to step forward and set his hands on either side of my face. His thumb rubbed along my cheekbone and up toward my hairline, making me shiver. His eyes flew back and forth between mine, looking for permission that he always had. He nodded delicately, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was so soft, so gentle, so tentative. But even that small moment made my stomach twist into knots and my knees go weak. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, letting the lingering feelings of the past few months melt away. It didn't matter that there was still so much to be said, so much to figure out and plan with the retaking of Winterfell. Things would melt into place, as I melted into him.

Ramsay had left his mark on me, literally and figuratively. And maybe he would continue to live in the parts of my mind that he clawed out space for, but Jon never needed to claim space for himself. He had it earlier when he kicked down the door to my cage, when he hugged me tightly goodbye the day he left for Castle Black, when he showed me that smile that always turned my insides to mush, and every time in between. All without having to ask for it. He was slowly filling it with warmth, with love. With life. So maybe Ramsay had some part of me, one that I may never get back... but those parts were all Jon’s, and I'd always treasure them.

As his lips moved against mine, I realized I’d made it. 

I finally felt like I was home.

Tags: @pastanest @nyotamalfoy

[elitegrayson]

Grayson putting his enemy, Y/N, to bed after he found her drunk. She’s all smiley and ask him to stay the night to cuddle together. They’ve never touched but seeing her in bed made him starstruck

i loveeee your mind, you asked and so you shall receive. i hope you like it!

Featuring: Grayson x reader

You had what seemed to be the worst week of your life. Schoolwork was piling up, and you weren’t doing the best in your classes. You were having car trouble this week, and it cost you an arm and a leg to get it all fixed. Not to mention you’re at this club with your "friend,” and it only took you 30 minutes to realize she left with her boyfriend. It also took you 30 minutes to realize that they were your ride, so now you don’t know how the hell you’re getting home. You felt like a third wheel the whole night anyway, but it didn’t matter. You just wanted to have a good time, or at least try to.

“God damnit,"  you whispered to yourself while checking the Lyft prices. They all seemed to be $50–80 dollars, money you weren’t trying to spend at the moment. The club was closing soon, and you were a drink away from being laid out on the floor. You ignored those thoughts, got one last shot, and got back on the dance floor.

People were soon certain to leave, but you were still trying to get the best out of the shot you took. You probably looked crazy dancing by yourself, but you didn’t care until you saw a familiar face coming towards you.

“Y/N?” He said it took you a few seconds to realize who this face was. Of course, it just had to be him.

Grayson Dolan.

You and him were never cool. Even as kids, you guys were always bickering. He thinks he’s all that, and only certain girls get to be with him. As if it’s a privilege.

No, it’s more like a punishment, and you feel sorry for every bimbo that has crossed his path.

“W-what? What are you even doing here?” You slurred angrily, inching a little bit closer just to see if it was really him.

"Yeah, I’m not too happy to see your face either, but what? A guy like me can’t be out and about.” He smirked.

“I never said all that; all I’m saying is—" You stopped, feeling your mouth get watery. You know this all too well, and soon you were throwing up everything you had that night.

A few people noticed, and a man shouted, "Aw, nah! Get her out of here. Now I have to be the one to clean that shit up!” Grayson immediately snapped back, saying, “Fuck off, man, I got her. You work at a nightclub; I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing vomit.”

You started to lose balance, but Grayson caught you. Your eyes were watery, and the acid taste left in your mouth made you want to vomit again. "C'mon, Y/N, let’s get out of here. They are about to close.” He grabbed you by the waist and guided you to the door.

"Bleh, I hate throwing up.” You mumbled, walking out.

“Who doesn’t?” He chuckled, still holding on to you tightly.

“I dunno, I just want to get this taste out of my mouth as soon as I can.” You couldn’t tell what was worse—the fact that you threw up in public or the fact that Grayson was taking you home. He doesn’t even like you, nor do you like him.

Those lyft prices aren’t looking too bad right now.

Soon enough, he arrives at your apartment. "Okay, Y/N, we are at your place.” Grayson says, putting the car in the park. Somehow, the drive back home made your body feel like a noodle. You knew you would have trouble just making it to the front door. As embarrassing as this already is, you needed him to carry you.

"C'mon, get up; we need to get you inside.” He said this, unbuckling his seatbelt and yours. “Mm can’t move. I need you to carry me.” You moaned softly, sticking your arms out, hoping he’d do what you requested.

“You’re kidding, right? Are you so drunk you can’t even walk? Not even to the steps?” He replied, trying to see if you were serious or not. Grayson thought it was kind of cute to see you need him, because you did.

God knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t seen you at the club. Deep down, he’s a good guy and a good “friend” to you, even if you don’t remember this in the morning.

You just nodded your head slightly, and he sighed, but agreed. “Yayyy!” you cheered as he got out of the car, coming to your side to open up the door. You lifted your arms out again as he picked you up in bridal style. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his neck. God, he smelled amazing, you thought.

He was thinking the same thing in his mind, getting a whiff of your vanilla perfume from your hair, which the wind brought to his nose. “Don’t forget my purse; the key is in there, along with my lip combo. Please make sure my purse is closed. I lost it once, and I cannot lose it again—" He cut you off, already getting your key out.

"Yeah, yeah, princess, I know what to do.” He huffed, opening up your door and closing it behind him.

"Okay, smartass, well, my room is upstairs; did you know that?” You snapped back at him, pulling away from his neck and giving him a look.

He didn’t say anything in response, and he made his way upstairs to your room. He laid you down on your bed and took off your shoes. "Alright, well, I did my part. You made it back safely, so I’m going to head out.” Grayson announced, looking around your room to see if anything else needed to be done.

You laid there and started giggling and smiling, rubbing what was left of your mascara that was soon to be around your eyes. Grayson scanned your body, seeing how pretty your boobs sat in your tight black top. The further you laid back, the more your shirt rose, giving him a glimpse of your belly piercing. Your torso and legs looked perfect in your jean skirt, which had a slit on the left side that showed your upper thigh. He was mesmerized, but no words left his mouth.

You didn’t notice him taking all of your beauty in, but you did notice he was still here. “Will you stay and cuddle with me, Grayson?” You blurted out, still lying down but turning to the side to face him. You don’t know why you asked, but it felt right.

"Oh, I would, but I uh...” He stumbled over his words, still distracted by your body. He couldn’t find the words to say. In that moment, he thought you looked beautiful.

You gazed at him with glossy eyes, waiting for a response. "Okay, fine, but just for a little while and only because you’re drunk.” He gave in and took off his shoes and jacket, placing them off to the side.

You scooted over slightly so he could have some room next to you. He placed his arm around you while you snuggled up under him. This is definitely not how you thought your night was going to end, and neither did he.