#she has kept food down in the past twenty four hours and her abdomen feels normal upon palpation

[singlethread]

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[atc74]

Soul to Souls - Twelve

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, confrontation, angst, more fluff, language, more visions...or dreams? Sam’s issue is revealed, and a cliffhanger!

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x OC Annaleigh

Word Count: 1683

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches​​​​​​, @katehuntington​​​​​, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers and new cover art by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89​​​​​​, Impala divider by @writeyourmindaway​​.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home. We’re halfway there folks, but we’ve barely gotten started!

Y’all are getting two chapters in three days! I am trying to get back on my normal posting schedule! Enjoy!

Soul to Souls Master List

Anna had been awake for a few minutes now, not opening her eyes. She was perfectly content to just lay there and drift off again in Dean’s arms, one draped protectively over her middle, fingers tracing small circles on her lower abdomen. Deciding against falling back asleep, she rolled to face him and slowly opened her eyes to meet his gaze; his eyes were even more beautiful in the morning light, shining like emeralds in the sun. 

“Good morning, Mama.” He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Good morning yourself, Handsome.” She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in, and sighed contentedly as he continued his patterns on her belly.

“Did you sleep well?” Dean inquired.

Anna sighed once more as she extended her sleepy limbs in a satisfying stretch. “Yes, I did. I feel rested and ready for the day. What about you, Babe?”

He laughed softly, placing his lips to her forehead. “I did sleep well, but I’ve also been up for quite a while now, y’know, thinking.”

She turned my head up to look at him. “How long have you been up? What time is it, anyway?”

Glancing at his watch, Dean answered, “I’ve been up since about seven. It’s now almost noon. The mother of my children needs her rest, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’ve already changed Baby’s oil, washed her, and helped Bobby out in the yard.”  

Dean kissed her again, and Annaleigh felt the familiar stirring deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around him and rolled until she was settled on top of his long, hard body. She deepened the kiss and felt him respond to her. His hands roamed up and over her back and into her hair as their tongues fought for dominance. Dean moved his hands back down to her hips, repositioning her until the friction was perfect as they rubbed against each other. 

She pulled away and sat up trying to catch her breath when the sound of her empty stomach betrayed her raging hormones. She needed food. She bent over to kiss him quickly before rolling off of him and the bed.

“I am sorry, Dean. This time I need food more than I need you to scratch this itch,” she apologized, throwing him a quick wink, and headed to the bathroom to get dressed and brush her teeth. He followed her and leaned his tall frame against the door.

“Anna, I was thinking about our little secret this morning.” He kept his eyes on hers while she finished brushing. “I want to keep it to ourselves for a little while; just until we know for sure and we can get in to see a doctor.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about that, too. I don’t want anyone else to know just yet,” she agreed. “I don’t want to give Bobby anything else to worry about right now. Or Sam.” She cringed at his name on her tongue. She made her way back into the bedroom to get dressed. “Besides, I want to see my own doctor. I am going to call today and make an appointment, okay?” Placing both her hands on his chest, she raised up on her toes to kiss him. “Let’s eat. I am starving!” She grabbed his hand and led him downstairs.

“I think I can make that work. I appreciate you seeing me so soon, thank you very much, Dr. Ryan.” Annaleigh ended the call and placed her phone back in her pocket. She ate the sandwich Dean had left for her and wandered out to the shop looking for him. She found Bobby under the hood of his Chevelle.  

“Hey, Old Man!” Anna called out, walking over to the side of the car to join him. “What are you doing out here? Where are the boys?” 

“I sent them into town to get a part for me. Should be back soon.” He glanced over to her. “How are you doing, Annaleigh?” he asked, worry set deep in his eyes.

“I am doing okay today, Bobby. I feel rested and better than yesterday.” She looked away as she answered, leaning against the car.

“Girl, don’t lie to me. I can see right through you,” he challenged.

“I don’t know what it is, Bobby. I just feel like there is something off. With Sam, I mean. But I can’t put my finger on it,” she confessed, feeling better now that she had shared her doubts with someone else. “But, I don’t know how to tell Dean. Or even if I should tell him. I don’t like keeping things from him, but this isn’t mine to tell.”

He took a deep breath before he began. “I know what you’re talking about. I feel it, and honestly, I think Dean feels it, too. We still don’t know what rescued him from the pit, but he has been off since he showed up. I called in every favor I got trying to figure it out.”

“Bobby, he is cold and unfeeling. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when he looks at me, well, looks through me is more like it. Like he isn’t human. But you tested him, so we know he is, but it’s like something is missing…” she trailed off as her thoughts started running wild in her head. She turned and ran back to the house. “I will be right back, I swear,” she called over her shoulder.

“Can that really be it?” Anna was talking to herself now, reading the lore books she had found in Bobby’s collection. “Could it be that simple? Well, it’s not simple at all, really. It’s gonna be real fucking complicated,” she muttered.

“What’s gonna be complicated, Red?” She jumped when she heard Dean’s voice behind her.

“Um, I don’t know yet. But, I will let you know as soon as I figure it out,” she faltered, but quickly regained her composure as she turned to face her boyfriend, his green eyes locking with hers. “Hey, Babe? Do you think we can take off in the morning? I want to be home by tomorrow night. I talked to my doctor, and she can get us in the day after tomorrow, but it’s her only opening. She’ll be gone for two weeks if we can’t make it,” she informed him.

“Are you kidding? That quick? Yeah, we can leave now if you want,” he answered, even more excited than she was. Anna jumped up, throwing her arms around his neck, leaving a loud kiss on his lips.

“Great! I just have to talk to Bobby real quick, then we can pack up Baby and hit the road.” She ran out the door and back to the shop.

“Bobby! I think I got it!” She proclaimed as she rounded the corner into the shop but skidded to a halt when she spotted Sam perched on the cooler next to the Chevelle.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire, girl?” Sam quipped.

She eyed Bobby cautiously. He nodded and she continued, “I know what is wrong with you, Sam. I don’t know what pulled you out from Lucifer’s grasp, but I do know that it did a piss poor job.”

Sam stood, stalked over to her, and threw his arms out wide, in a menacing stance. “What the hell are you talking about?” He shouted. “There isn’t anything wrong with me! Have you seen me? I’m in the best shape of my life. I’m a better hunter than Dean now. I’m awesome!” he boasted.

“No, Sam, you’re not!” she protested, placing a hand up to stop him from advancing on her. “Something is wrong with you and I know what it is. Whatever, whomever, rescued you from the fiery clutches of Hell; they left a part of you behind. You lost your soul, Sam! Your fucking soul? Does that sound o-fucking-kay to you?!” she argued.

Sam stopped and stared down at her. “Huh, no wonder I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything. Not Dean; not you. Nothing. And, you know what? I fucking love it. I feel free. Don’t think you can go fixing me like you did my brother. I am not broken. But, he was and you made him weak; you gave him hope,” he growled.

“Weak? I rescued him when he was in danger of losing himself because of you, Sam! That doesn’t make him weak. Scars don’t mean a person is damaged, it means they survived. And, that is what your brother did. Without you! He survived because of me!” Anna stormed past Sam and over to Bobby.

She gave the old man a tight embrace and told him she and Dean were leaving, with a promise to figure out how to make Sam whole. She gave Sam one more glare, then went back to the house to pack her things so they could hit the road.

The drive home took just over 18 hours, stopping only for bathroom breaks and fuel. Annaleigh fell asleep a few times; thanking God that Dean loved driving. She was snuggled up with her head in his lap, drifting off again.  

“Hey, Beautiful. How are you feeling, Red? I got someone, well two someones, I want you to meet. Kids, say ‘Hi’ to your beautiful Mama.” Dean walked over to Annaleigh. She was in a hospital bed, wearing one of those terrible gowns. He gently handed her half the precious cargo he carried. She smiled, gazing at the bundle in her arms, and looked back up at him. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to her lips. “I am so proud of you, Red. Look at what we did. We made these beautiful little people.” She knew she was crying, but they were happy tears. She took her eyes off the baby boy in her arms and looked up at Dean. He was crying too. He looked so incredibly happy. 

“Red, I would like you to meet our son, Robert Samuel Winchester. And, this sweet little thing is…”

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth​​ @flamencodiva​​ @iwantthedean​​ @jensengirl83​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @smol-and-grumpy​​ @kbl1313​​ @waywardbeanie​​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​​ @princessmisery666​​​ @shy-violet-soul​​ @lastcallatrockysbar​​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​ @squirrelnotsam​​ @michellethetvaddict​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @wonder-cole​​

[stunudo]

Do Over

Featuring: JJ x Female Reader

Requested by: @marvelfanlife

Setting: AU Season 12

A/N: Thanks for requesting another piece! This is my second JJ fic (Sorry, I just assumed Will died, please don’t judge me). She is difficult for me to write because I find JJ too near to perfect. It is another long one; I hope I met your expectations! ***Connor @starbucksreid made a moodboard for the fic and I just had to add it! ***xoxo Stu

Warnings: Violence, high school (okay I’m listing this as kind of a joke, but you know it is a trigger for most of us) teacher, fluff and angst.

Your name: submit What is this?

Stepping into the bathroom, you recoil at the puddle of cold liquid encasing the bottom of your bare foot. You quickly grab a towel off the rod near the door, covering the bulk of the water.

“Henry? Buddy? What happened in the bathroom?” You called to your girlfriend’s oldest son. You were not a morning person. You had to keep your voice down because everyone else was still sleeping. Cleaning the bathroom floor was not how you wanted to start your day off. Henry did not respond. After finishing your business you headed downstairs to investigate the case of the flooded bathroom.

A trail of water led you down the stairs and into the kitchen. You found Henry diligently watering the plants with his favorite Star Trek cup. “Hey, Henry? You’re kind of making a mess, dude.”

“But if I get my chores done early then I get more,” Henry reached up to a high shelf, balancing on his tiptoes. You held your breath as he poured the last of the water into the aloe plant. “I get more time to play, Y/N, I’m just doing chores.” You nodded, knowing that his intentions were honest.

“Are you all done with that one?” You asked carefully. He nodded enthusiastically. “Great, now I have a new one.” After you and Henry cleaned up his trail with towels wrapped on your feet, you convinced him it was time for breakfast.

JJ came downstairs with Michael after you and Henry had started digging in. The toddler on her hip and the yoga pants on her muscular legs made you smile, she just made it all so easy. Your eyes met her knowing grin while catching you and Henry with both of your mouths overstuffed. “Good pancakes?” You nodded in unison.

JJ had found a great place to raise her boys, the neighborhood embraced you like one of their own. You hadn’t officially moved in yet, but you were there so often that you probably should talk to your landlord. Perhaps you should have that talk with JJ after the boys were in bed that night. The phone rang while you were all at the park at the far end of the subdivision. Scratch that, maybe next week.

JJ decided to drop the boys off with her mom as she headed in for the case. You didn’t have to work because it was the weekend, but you really wanted to get through the lab write ups your students turned in the day before. Mrs. Jareau was great with the boys and really made you feel like part of the family. You weren’t sure if it was because she missed having two daughters or if she really loved you as JJ’s partner.

Heading back to your loft, you checked the mailbox in the front entryway. You kept your head down, rummaging through the junk mail and few bills. The figure behind you didn’t catch your attention. But the heavy crash of metal on your skull did. Your head exploded in pain as you fell face first into the taupe paint.

Garcia’s concerned face welcomed the team into the conference room that Saturday afternoon. Her usual peppiness dampened by being the one taking her avenging angels away from their families and weekend frivolities. “Alright, my babies, all I can say is at least this one is local? So no wheels up talk, Emily, sorry you don’t get to say it today.”

Emily mimed a sly “Damn it!” before settling into her seat. Garcia brought up three pictures of missing high school teachers. “These women are all from the area, the first went missing a month a go. The next two weeks ago and the last just five days ago.” JJ scanned the photographs, each one had your hair color and soft cheeks. They all had some close variant on your hair style and eye color even. She hated when she felt similarities between her loved ones and victims from a case.

“All right, I want Reid and JJ to head to the location where the last body was found. Alvez and Rossi will head to question the latest victim’s family.” Prentiss started assigning tasks. “I am taking Walker with me to the precinct as Lewis is out of town on interviews. Touch base with us in two hours.”

“So what were you doing when you got the call?” JJ teased Spence from the driver seat of their SUV. He furrowed his brows in confusion at her question.

“You say that as if I were up to something scandalous, JJ.” Reid volleyed. “I have no idea what you think I was doing, but it wasn’t that.” He refocused onto the case files smugly.

JJ’s face slid in shock. “Spencer Reid, you do not start holding out on me now! I give you all my secrets and you just put on your poker face!”

“JJ, you and Y/N’s sex life is hardly secret, Garcia makes sure of that.” Spencer continued. “ Besides we should, uh, really get back to the case.” He gave the blonde a knowing look and held up the files in earnest.

“Alright, Dr. Profiler, who is abducting and killing high school teachers?” JJ tight lipped, trying to hide the embarrassment from her love life being common gossip.

“Easy answer: White Male, late teens to early twenties. He is holding a grudge, most likely a past student.”

“But they all taught at different schools and different subjects.” JJ pointed out.

“They appear to be surrogates, but we need to double check with the body to be sure. There were some signature pieces to the first two bodies that will let us see if the unsub is escalating.”

“Lucky us, body detail.” JJ muttered, turning the large vehicle off the freeway.

He drove away from your condo parking lot with you in the trunk of his ancient Oldsmobile. Consciousness was something that was not letting go of you. The duct tape on your face and wrists stung. The tape’s smell faded from your attention as your face rolled over old food wrappers and into an open bottle of windshield wiper fluid.  The space was large, but that meant you would slide back and forth, your body scraping and banging into the rough edges inside.

It felt like he was intentionally slamming on the breaks with each cruel intersection. Your mind told you to tell Howard Givens that he did a terrible job teaching Devon in Drivers’ Ed. Why the hell were you blaming your fellow teacher?! Of course it was Devon’s fault he drove like an asshole. He wasn’t just an asshole though, he was psychotic.

On the way to the dumpsite, JJ texted Y/N to let her know she was still in town, she hoped to be home each night as the case progressed. She kept her phone on silent while in the field, she would just check that Y/N got it later. Spencer waited for her to introduce them to the local cops securing the scene.

“Detective? I’m Agent Jareau, this is Dr. Reid, we’re from the BAU. Our Unit Chief sent us here to help in the analysis of the body and dumpsite.” After the pleasantries were exchanged, the older detective hobbled over to the location the body had been discovered. The techs cleared the area for Spencer to get to work. JJ continued to follow up with the Detective.

“How long are they saying she has been here?”

“Techs put exposure at around four hours, but Time of Death is closer to eight?” He read from his notebook.

“JJ?” Spencer called, “The unsub’s message changed. He’s moved on to the final target.”

“What does it say, Spence?”

“No More Do Overs?” Reid enunciated in a louder voice. “He carved it into her abdomen, post mortem.”

On the ride to the precinct, JJ let Reid drive so she could call her mom and Y/N to coordinate childcare and evening plans. Her mom was long winded, the boys were fine. But she gave JJ the idea that Y/N hadn’t been answering her phone. JJ quickly ended the call and tried her herself. The phone rang on until her calming voice announced her voicemail box. JJ’s large eyes locked on Spencer’s observing eyes, she shook her head in equal parts surprise and slight annoyance.

“What’s up?” He asked his friend.

“Y/N hasn’t texted me back, she hasn’t answered my mom’s calls AND her phone goes straight to voicemail.” JJ huffed.

“Call Garcia.” Spencer explained, parking the vehicle at the back of the lot.

“Pen?”JJ said back into her phone. “Can you ping Y/N’s phone for me? She isn’t answering and I am getting worried.”

Spencer picked up the files as he waited for Garcia to work her magic to calm their teammate’s nerves. His eyes flitted over the victim’s photographs, if he held them like a flip-book, their pictures almost merged. They almost perfectly merged in to a picture of Y/N. His hand started shaking, the victimology was clear now. Y/N was the final target.

But how was he going to tell JJ? He set the pictures back into the top folder, until Garcia ended the call.

“Her phone is off,” JJ said flatly. “But I just called it, so it must have been shut off recently. Garcia says she was just outside her school. Maybe she just needed to get some extra work done?”

Spencer’s brown eyes didn’t give away his revelation. “I think I found something for the case. Let’s get inside so I can go over it with the whole team?”

You were dragged out of the trunk and into a field of grass. The chalked lines had faded over time, it was months before football practices would resume. You jumped at the slamming of the trunk behind you. The small equipment shed loomed behind the car. Devon didn’t speak to you as he forced you into the barn-like doorway. Your mind raced over how you would get free from the young man’s strong grip. But all your struggling just made him pick you up.

Thrown over his shoulder like a roll of carpeting, your stomach puckered against his broad frame. Ugh, your labored breaths just added to the discomfort from the ride here. It wasn’t until you looked down at his shirt that you realized your were bleeding. He dropped you on your side landing abruptly on the cold cement floor. The door whined closed behind him, too heavy to stay open on its own.

“But what are you saying?!” JJ screamed, jamming her finger to her family’s picture on the evidence board. Emily’s eyebrows arched in concern for her friend, she crossed the office to pull JJ away from the picture.

“If Y/N is the unsub’s final target, we need to move, now.” Rossi barked.

Walker and Alvez were already strapping on their vests determinedly. Spencer had grown silent watching JJ dissolve in front of him. JJ paced, not letting Emily or Spencer near her. “How did I not see this?! I even thanked God she was safe once we got the case!”

“JJ,” Emily’s voice firm, “Can you think of any students that would be after Y/N? Has she had any violent altercations she had to report, any upset parents even?”

JJ rolled her eyes. “She’s a public school teacher in D.C., Emily. There are quite a lot of incidents that could have been the trigger.” Reid had his phone to his ear as he watched his close friends try to suss out the unsub.

“Garcia?” Reid began. “I need you to dig into school records, Y/N’s personnel file.”

“Reid?!” Garcia balked. “Why am I doing this now, don’t you have a case?”

“The unsub has Y/N.” Reid’s eyes locked on JJ’s tears. Her mouth quaked against her sob. She drew her hands to her eyes, clearing the water from her face. Now was not the time for tears, it was time to do her damned job.

“Emily, I am going with you.”

Emily’s head spun in a wave of ebony. Her eyes locked onto JJ’s stubborn stance beside the SWAT gear. “No, you’re not.”

Slowly you sat up, every part of you ached. The tape on your wrists was rolling at the edges, each movement ripped out more of your arm hair. Devon’s eyes were watching you, and yet he remained quiet. His calm demeanor unnerved you more than the fact that you were in an abandoned building, in an unused field, behind an empty high school. If you could scream, it wouldn’t help your chances of rescue.

You had to use what was around you, you had to think. What would JJ do? She would talk her way out, which was out of the options pool. She would also kick this punk kid’s ass, something you may be able to do if you weren’t restrained. God, JJ! What if you didn’t see her again? What if you became just another victim in the BAU’s tragic love story? Nope, you were not going there. You were going to get back to your family. Henry and Michael had already lost their daddy, you weren’t going anywhere.

You returned Devon’s steely gaze and awaited his revenge. After a three minute stand off, he shook his head. Then, amazingly, he left you alone in the shed. His footsteps fading against the gravel, you couldn’t hear him once he either got inside the car or made it to the grass. Now you just had to disappear before he returned.

Rossi was now talking JJ down. His voice louder than the newbies were used to hearing. “Jennifer! This is not the time to argue. We are going to get her back, but we can’t do that if your emotions are in the way.” His voice softened, as she inhaled against the returning tears. “Okay?”

“Okay,” JJ voice cracked.

“Rossi, will stay with you,” Emily explained. “Garcia is still digging. Reid, Walker, Alvez and I are heading out. Stay on the comms?” Her dark eyes waited for JJ’s acceptance of the order. The blonde nodded, leaning against the nearest desk.

“Spence?” JJ called to her closest friend. “Just be careful, okay?”

He nodded, his curls bobbed. Alvez watched the exchange closely, nodding without realizing. He was agreeing to keep the tall agent safe as well. Walker led the way out of the precinct into the waiting vehicles. The lead detective slid into one driver’s seat as Walker manned the other. SWAT drove the first truck in the caravan towards the empty high school campus. The BAU settled down for the twenty minute drive through weekend traffic.

You got to your feet just in time for Devon to return to the shed. In his hand was a baseball bat. He playfully spun it between his two palms, a hypnotic grotesque taunt. As you watched the would-be weapon, he started to laugh. Your eyes scrunched in disgust and fear. He started with your left knee, bowling you back to the ground.

Your scream pulled against your gag, your skin burned against the dense material. You knew he could do a lot more damage to you than a fractured knee cap. As he came at you for the second time, you tried to kick at him with your good leg. His eyes wild, jumping over your flailing limb like a Skip it! going in slow motion. This time the bat met your right foot, completely pinning you to the ground.

“Okay, Ms. Y/L/N, I seem to have gotten your attention. Now it is time for today’s lesson.” Devon barked, part animated comedian, part football coach.

The school was massive, the four members of the BAU, the two detectives and eight SWAT members circled the parking lot. There were no cars or people in sight. Alvez suddenly called out, causing Walker to slam on his breaks. He ran from the side door of the large vehicle, expertly checking for incoming attacks. He approached a small bundle against a back fence. The muscular man bent over, inspecting a handbag.

Luke held it up to Reid, the taller man had followed once his own vehicle had caught up. He nodded to the Hispanic man, not feeling any better about finding Y/N in the large abandoned buildings. “JJ? We found her purse, outside the school. It seems he just tossed it.”

“Alright, Alvez, keep moving.” Rossi answered over the communication units.

A honk from one of the idling SUVs caused the two men to look up. Walker was pointing out over the valley that held a football field and four tennis courts. There behind the goal post was a rusty car parked in front of a storage shed, which had been completely hidden from them on the road.

JJ was listening to the chatter from her teammates without really hearing it. She was frozen in place, the fear of losing you was too much. She wanted to punch something and to curl up on the floor. She had stopped crying, her face now a mask of exhausted indifference. Rossi knew what she was feeling without seeing it in her expression. He gave her the space she needed to process.

JJ remembered when you had first told her you loved her. It was quickly, over the phone as she was heading to another case out of state. She wasn’t expecting it. By the pause on your side of the line, she knew you hadn’t meant to let it slip out yet. She rushed home after that case, having taken down a pack of deranged sadists in a raid. She smiled, remembering the rush of heat on her face when she got to say it to you in person.

She hadn’t felt this helpless for so long. It lingered like the weighted vest you wear to get x-rays of your teeth; familiar yet unnecessarily confining. She shook herself free from the memories and the fear induced paralysis. JJ had work to do.

“Garcia, I want you to look into Y/N’s last school. She left that job about three years ago? I remember her mom saying she quit in the middle of the year, but I don’t think I ever found out why.”

You couldn’t leave, you couldn’t scream and you couldn’t fight back. It was an impossible situation. You stared back at your former student, whose life you had apparently ruined with a failing Chemistry grade three years prior. There was no other reason you had given this kid to attack you. He must have suffered a great deal since you had last seen him.

Devon Johnson was an athlete, you remembered, but you couldn’t recall what sports he played. He was smart enough, but wouldn’t put any effort in to the work. It was frustrating teaching kids like him. This specifically stung after spending two hours each day tutoring kids who were half as smart and twice as dedicated. You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t make a teenager care about their future.

His speech was rehearsed, it seemed he had a flare for the dramatic. The pain in your legs and head really took away from your ability to focus on the point he was trying to make though. Suddenly his reddened face was inches from yours. You gasped in shock, your eyes trying to focus on his.

“That’s what wrong with you teachers. You don’t think you have to do any listening. You think you’re the only ones with something important to say? Guess again, Ms. Y/L/N.” Devon spat in your face with each angered word. He stepped back to get a wider swing, this one landing swiftly to your temple. You lost time.

The team flew down the gravel driveway towards the empty car. They didn’t bother with sirens as they only had a short distance and no traffic to deflect. Prentiss led the charge, her guilt over leaving JJ behind melted in her determination to fry this unsub that coursed through her veins. The slamming doors didn’t draw anyone out of the vehicle or the shed. Alvez scanned the rust bucket, shaking his head at Prentiss’ watching eyes.

She nodded to Walker, they moved in sync towards the wide door. Tossing the door open, “FBI!” was called from numerous mouths. There on the cement slab flooring was Y/N lying bound and unconscious in a puddle of her own blood. Spencer gasped seeing his friend like that.

Prentiss nodded to the slender man to examine her. He called to a detective, so not to alert JJ on the other end of the comms. “Call an ambulance on your radios, victim found, unconscious with blunt force trauma to the head and legs.” Emily continued to search the crowded space, her flashlight snaking in wide arches through the stacks of equipment.

“FBI! Put your hands up!” Walker’s deep voice boomed from the other side of the door. “Drop the weapon, son.” His voice firm, but calm. Emily and Alvez flanked the tall dark agent. Devon Johnson was trapped, three trained guns pointed at his face. Laughing he dropped the bat, the sound dinging throughout the dark shed. “It’s alright, I got it this time. She’s done for. I finally passed.” His rants would be humorous if they weren’t so unsettling. The unwell young man put his hands to the back of his shaved head. His revolting look told Emily he was proud of his accomplishment.

Walker holstered his weapon and reached for his cuffs, approaching the suspect. He went quietly, at least. The paramedics arrived and Y/N was on the gurney when they finally called in the apprehension.

“JJ, we got him. They are taking Y/N to the hospital, you can meet us there.”

“Oh no!” JJ’s voice strained. “Is she okay?!”

Emily hesitated too long, a sob burst over the open channel. “They are doing everything they can for her. Reid is riding with her, alright?”

JJ couldn’t speak. Rossi’s voice came through clearly. “Good job, guys. We’ll catch up shortly.”

The ride to the hospital was one of the longest car rides JJ had ever taken. It was only 5 miles from the precinct steps to the Emergency Room entrance. Rossi opened the door for his passenger who was clearly having difficulty putting one foot in front of the other. Garcia had driven from headquarters and met them in the parking lot. Her comforting arms practically carried JJ’s numb form to the waiting room. Alvez and Walker were standing talking near the revolving doors.

Spencer and Emily were seated nearest the nurses’ station. Their keen eyes watching every doctor, orderly or nurse who passed by. JJ felt her legs were boulders as she joined the huddle of friendship that waited for her. Then the real waiting began.

Y/N was in surgery for a brain bleed for four hours. The team left to rest in shifts, though Reid and Garcia never left JJ’s side. Emily had to wrap up the investigation with the locals, otherwise she would have been there as well. Penelope had already talked to Mrs. Jareau about the boys, giving as good an explanation as she could to how Y/N had been injured. Reid was reciting bits from ‘Born Standing Up’ by Steve Martin to try to get JJ to laugh.

During the second hour she fell asleep between her two pillars of support. Penelope held JJ’s feet while Reid held her head, having used his Kevlar and a cardigan as a make shift pillow in his lap. She didn’t dream.

When JJ woke up, everyone else had fallen asleep. She slowly unfurled her tense limbs and began to pace the waiting room. It was after her third lap that she found her phone to call her mom.

The doctor let JJ back to Y/N’s room in post-op ICU. It had taken a grueling hour longer then they anticipated, but finally the BAU heard Y/N had made it through the surgery. She had four broken bones in her right foot, hemorrhaging on the brain that was going to need to be continually monitored, a stellate fracture in her left knee cap and raw skin from her restraints.

When JJ entered the room all she saw was the most beautiful woman in the world. Beneath all the gauze and tubes, there she was and she was alive! JJ waited by her side all night, waiting for her love to wake up and come back to her.

Michael had started talking. His little eyes wide as he copied your prompts. “Doggie? Can you say doggie?”

“Dug-dy?” He sputtered. You all clapped at his achievement. You saw JJ smiling at you holding her baby and you knew your heart wasn’t done growing yet. Her pink lips framed her perfect teeth, her blue eyes shining at you. It took your breath away.

You were coughing. Why couldn’t you breath? Something was in your throat, you had to get it out. Where were you?! JJ’s voice was calling for a doctor, she was nearby! Then suddenly there were strange faces peering down at you, too many hands were checking you. The fear continued to stutter your breathing. Slowly a familiar voice made sense. “Y/N, babe, you have to calm down, ok?” JJ begged. “There is a tube in your throat to help you breathe.”

You could see her now, her eyes reassuring and tired, so tired. You nodded at her, wanting to scream that you loved her, that you were so happy she was here. A deep voice spoke from the other side of the bed, “We are going to remove the tube, but it is going to hurt. Are you ready for the procedure?”

You blinked in frustration of more pain, but nodded to the doctor with the beady eyes.

JJ came back into the room after you had been triple checked by the doctor and two nurses. She was so lovely. Her worried face forced a smile for your benefit. You moved your hand, hoping she would take it. She did, the warmth flooding you with hope.

“Y/N, I am so sorry I let him get you. I never thought you were in danger. I never.” She stopped herself, sniffling. She took a few deep breaths. You wanted to reach for her, to let her know you were here and it was going to be okay, eventually at least.

“I am not going to lose you, Y/N. Do you hear me?” JJ stated defiantly. “I am here, no matter what. I want you, for always. Do you understand?” You thought you did, but somehow there were tears blocking your view of her beauty. You coughed, your throat still raw from the tubing.

“Don’t talk, just nod?” JJ sniffled. “Or shake your head too, if that’s how you feel.” She took both of your hands now, gently as they were bandaged. “Y/N, I want all of your tomorrows. I want the recovery, the physical therapy sessions, the work, the smiles, the late nights. I want it all. I want you. Forever. Marry me?” She said it with such a burning intensity that your eyes exploded. Your heavy head a resounding affirmative.

“Yes?” JJ checked, kissing your hands.

“Y-yes,” you gasped against the pain in your vocal chords. She leaned in and kissed your chapped lips. You patted the bed, calling her to you. She didn’t even hesitate, she crawled right over the rail and snuggled into your side. Right where she would fit, forever.

@dontshootmespence @imagicana @milkandcookies528 @ssajenniferjareau @cherry-loves-fanfic

[buckyscurvylover]

Half Past The Point Of Oblivion Part 5/5 - COMPLETE! (Sebastian Stan x OFC NSFW)

Earlier Parts: One Two Three Four 

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s), Chris Evans/Original Female Character (mentioned) Characters: Sebastian Stan, Tara Sullivan (OFC), Chris Evans (mentioned), Gretchen (OFC) Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Queerplatonic Relationships, Jealousy, Angst, Smut, Crying, good food, therapy sessions, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Chair Sex, Dirty Talk, Sebastian’s Filthy Fucking Mouth, Light Dom/sub, Sub Sebastian, Like super light, barely even there, Begging To Come, Introspection, confused feelings, masturbation (mentioned), Voyeurism (sort of), Missed Opportunities, Fluffy Ending

Part 3 of The Deadliest Sin

Summary:

As soon as they were both through the doorway, he kicked the door shut behind them with the heel of his boot. His coat dropped by his feet and he pressed himself back into the smooth wood, his palms flat against the panel beside his thighs.

“I need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he said, his voice gravelly, “because if I come over there now…” He trailed off, absently licking his lips as he slowly and deliberately dragged his gaze from her face, down to her feet and back up.

She licked her lips. “Lock the door,” she replied, swallowing the breathy rasp in her voice.

Following on from the sudden, whirlwind shift in their relationship, Sebastian and Tara try to navigate their way through the mess of feelings. Who will her heart choose, though - Sebastian or Chris?

Part of “The Deadliest Sin” series. Now with added co-writer, @sebastianfloofyhair!

Notes:

I know it’s been FOREVER since I posted the last part, and I hope that people are still interested to see this continue.

Since I wrote “Half Past The Point Of No Return”, I have begun collaborating with the creator of Tara, @sebastianfloofyhair on furthering this series and it has taken on a life of its own. Currently we have MASSES of fic written, I just need to get around to editing and posting it all, but I’m making a start on it with this part. It’s completed and ready to go, I’m only separating it into chapters because it’s over 21.5K words! I will get them posted every couple of days, though, I hope.

Disclaimer:

We don’t know the actual, real Sebastian Stan (or Chris Evans). This is just a facsimile of him and both he and the story bear no relation to reality. Any similarities in the scenario to Real Life™ are just coincidence. We intend no harm or upset to Sebastian, or his family and friends. Everything is completely made up from the depraved depths of our brains and Tara belongs to SebastianFloofyHair.

She slipped her fingers through his, and he started towards the stairs, turning his head to smile down at her, though his mind was racing. He’d been doing alright until the admission that she’d lain awake listening to him; that, plus the memories of the night in LA, had brought his desire raging back to life. Once they reached her room, he turned to face her. “You wanna go first?” he asked, inclining his head towards the bathroom.

“Since when do we take turns?” she teased, elbowing him gently in the ribs before making her way across the room, pausing in front of the fireplace. “Though... I should probably build the fire back up so why don’t you go on.”

He chuckled awkwardly, running his fingers through the stubble on his jaw, before backing towards the bathroom. “We don’t... but if you just wanna sleep, I should probably take a minute to cool off.”

Tara shook her head, amused, then crouched in front of the fireplace, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Not sure that’s a long term solution, but if you must...”

He turned, flipping on the switch and pushed the door shut behind him, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wood. No shit, it isn’t, he thought, blowing out a sharp breath through pursed lips and headed over to the sink. He turned on the tap, cupping the cold water into his hands and splashing it onto his face, before bracing his palms on the sink and letting his head hang forward as he mentally bolstered himself. When he looked up, he grimaced at his reflection, and reached for his toothbrush. The gurgle of the running water triggered a faint niggle in his bladder and he glanced at the toilet, before rolling his eyes, his mouth full of toothpaste.

Nope. Not happening like this.

He sighed, frustrated, and spat into the sink, before setting down his rinsed brush and turning off the tap. He looked down at himself, knowing that the evidence of his arousal would be blatantly obvious the moment he began to undress and for a moment he considered just dealing with it himself. He blew out a breath, shaking his head at himself. He’d gotten off more times in the previous twenty four hours than he had in the last week and yet here he was again, considering trying to silently jerk off with Tara in the next room, only this time he wasn’t under the influence of alcohol. Before he could give into temptation, he pulled open the door, crossing over to drop down onto the bed on his front. “Your turn,” he told her, his words muffled by the comforter.

“Yep,” Tara acknowledged, closing the grate to the fire before dusting her hands on her yoga pants and getting to her feet. She gave him a brief glance, her brow furrowing slightly as she moved toward the bathroom. She started to speak but thought better of it, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

He rolled over, and got to his feet, turning the lamp beside the bed on low and returned to the doorway to switch out the main light. As he made his way back towards the bed, he pulled his sweater over his head and draped it over the end of the chest at the foot of the bed, before unfastening his jeans and shucking them off. His socks followed, one at a time and he gathered them into his hands before dropping them all on top of his sweater in a messy pile.  He shivered a little in the cool air, now in just his t-shirt and boxer briefs, as he flipped back the covers and climbed into bed. He let his arm fall over his face as he waited for her to return and tried to ignore the need aching in his belly, the throb of his erection stretching the soft jersey knit cotton of his shorts.

Tara came out a few minutes later, changed into a looser pair of pajama pants and a tank top, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her face pink from being washed and moisturized. She looked exactly as she usually would, even though she’d fought herself over whether or not to make more of an effort - put on an actual nightgown for once, maybe. But she’d chastised herself and moved on, finishing her nighttime routine and turning off the light before heading back into the bedroom.

She climbed onto her side of the bed, shuffling her feet under the covers before scooting down and turning onto her side, propping her head in one hand as she faced him. “That bad, huh?”

He laughed wryly, and lifted his arm to look at her. “Depends how you define bad. Or no.” He shook his head. “Ignore that. I’m alright, honestly.” He threw her a small smile, turning onto his side to face her as he tucked his hand beneath the pillow. “How is it you look exactly the same way as you have at bedtime for the last fifteen years, only now my brain can’t get past how you look good enough to eat?” he asked quietly, and Tara chuckled, chewing the corner of her lip as she looked at him.

“Is it really the first time you’ve had that thought?” She quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, bending her knees and nudging them against his, her toes pressing onto the tops of his feet.

He suppressed a shiver as the brush of her skin against his sharpened the arousal inside him. “No... no, it’s not... but it is the first time I’ve not been able to push it to the back of my mind, so that I can just hold you and go to sleep, like you asked me to.”

Tara’s eyes softened, her cheeks pinking up even more, and she let out a slow breath, bringing her free hand up from beneath the blanket to cup the side of his face, her fingers drifting lightly over the stubble darkening his jaw. “I can’t either, honestly... Stop thinkin’ about it... Stop wanting ...”

His lashes fluttered, the crease between his eyes deepening as her touch sent pleasure arrowing into the pit of his abdomen and he tensed his thighs to stop himself from squirming. “Tara... please,” he pleaded, his voice rough, “This is... not helping...”

Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth and the tip of her tongue slicked over her bottom lip. “Wasn’t tryin’ to help,” she murmured, her eyes intent as they fixed on his.

Sebastian shuddered, a soft moan on his lips and his hand lifted to cover hers, his fingers linking with hers. “You have any idea what you do to me? This is... this is insane, the way you affect me.”

“No more insane than how you affect me,” she breathed, her eyes heavy with want, and she squeezed his hand. “No way I could sleep right now, like this...”

The tip of his tongue pressed against the middle of his top lip, his breath becoming more shallow and his pupils, already wide in the dim light of the room, grew even larger. “Like what?” he breathed, searching her face.

She kept her eyes on his face, pulling his hand down beneath the covers, slipping under the loose waist of her pants and pressing it to the damp fabric between her thighs. Her eyelashes fluttered as she rocked her hips forward into his touch, her voice barely a whisper when she spoke. “Like this.”

He let out a ragged breath as she withdrew her hand, leaving him to press more firmly against her covered core, and the length of his middle finger settled into the valley between her folds. Even through the cotton of her panties, the swell of her clit nudged against the pad of his finger, and he ever-so-slowly curled that one digit, the others resting over the elastic running along either side. “Oh... I see what you mean,” he answered, low and quiet. “See... I have a... situation going on here too.”

“Yeah, I thought you might,” Tara managed, the insistent press of his finger over her clit urging her to move, and it took all of her willpower to keep still. “Guess we should do somethin’, huh? If we wanna get some sleep...”

He hummed, easing out from her pyjamas, and searched beneath the comforter until he brushed her wrist, his palm covering the back of her hand. “I guess we probably should,” he agreed, linking his fingers with hers as he brought them to his shorts and moulded them over the hard line of his cock, “We both remember how restless I get when I’m like this, right?”

Tara nodded, curving her fingers over him and squeezing gently. Her breath shook and she swallowed, bringing her face closer to his, her gaze drifting to his mouth. “Tell me what you want, Sebastian... Anything... Anything you want.”

His breath hitched, his hips pressing forward into her touch, and he leant into her, his forehead resting against hers, the tip of his nose brushing hers. “Oh God, babe... I can’t. I want everything with you. I wanna touch you, and taste you, and bury myself inside you until I can’t even breathe... I wanna watch you moving over me, and I want you arching under me. I wanna wake up curled around you and rock into you slow and lazy, and fall asleep tangled up in your arms exhausted from pinning you down and fucking you until we’re both panting and sated.” He let out a breathless chuckle, his cheeks colouring self-consciously, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Wow... okay, that... was probably too much. I don’t... I don’t expect that. Literally just... this... your hand on me? That... that’d be really fuckin’ nice. Just us lying here, exploring a little. If you wanna...”

Tara nodded, pushing up onto her hip, sliding her hand up to his stomach. “Lie back, then...um, but take this off.” She tugged at his t-shirt and lifted her brows, biting her lip as she watched him.

Sebastian blinked his eyes open, catching his cheek between his teeth and nodded. His hands fell to the hem of his shirt, and he rolled onto his back, wriggling it over his head, before letting it drop to the floor. He turned his head, searching her face. “You wanna... take this off too?” he asked softly, tugging lightly at the strap of her tank top. “Then maybe I can get my hands on you too...”

She chuckled, slightly breathless, moving to straddle his lap before lifting the top over her head and tossing it aside. She shivered a little at the heavy fall of her breasts as they were bared, her face flushing when she looked down to meet his gaze.

His brow creased, teeth worrying the inside of his lip as his eyes drifted over her body, and he flattened his palms over the sides of her waist. “Jesus... so fuckin’ beautiful.” His fingertips teased over the line of her ribs, attentive to every movement, every stutter in her breath or twitch of her expression as he followed the curve of bone to the centre of her torso. “So soft, and damn, curves for-fuckin’-ever... makes me wanna do bad, bad things with you.”

Her hands slid along the length of his forearms and she leaned forward, bracing her palms by his shoulders to bring her face to his. “Like?” she breathed, nuzzling her nose along his jaw. “Tell me... I like it when you talk.”

A groan rumbled in Sebastian’s chest, and his hands clenched around her hips. “You do, huh? That’s... kinda lucky...” He laughed quietly, tilting his head to expose the line of his throat to her, her lips drifting under his jaw to his neck. “Because apparently I’m really bad at keepin’ my mouth shut when someone’s makin’ me feel good...” His thumbs drew semi-circles over the front of her hip bone, dipping inside the band of her pants as Tara straightened to draw her hands back down his chest. She lifted an eyebrow and he gazed up at her from beneath his lashes. “And you make me feel fuckin’ fantastic. I’m not sure I should tell you the really bad things though. Might send you running for the hills.”

Tara laughed softly, using a fingertip to trace the dip of muscle between his pecs, around and across the ridges of his abdomen. “Try me,” she murmured, flicking her eyes up to meet his again. “You might be surprised.”

His gaze fell to her fingers, watching as they wandered across his stomach, his muscles twitching as she wandered towards the sensitive skin low down beneath his navel. “Wanna rub myself all over you. Or for you to rub yourself all over me. Wanna bury my face in your neck or your hair and just grind against you, or have you sittin’ in my lap, or over my thigh, watchin’ you gettin’ yourself off like that,” he said quietly, flicking a cautious glance up to her face as a thread of nervousness wound in with the arousal swelling in his belly. “Definitely want you to do that thing again where you managed to get all of my dick into your mouth because holy fuck... Wanna pull you up over me and let you grind down on my mouth while I lick and suck you ‘til you come all over my face... How’m I doin’ so far?”

Her breathing had shallowed, each soft pant sounding through parted lips as she shifted herself slowly back until she was straddling his thighs, her fingertips tracing along the waist of his boxer briefs. “Good,” she breathed, chewing the inside of her cheek as she rocked her hips forward, the heat of her core sliding up over his cotton-covered cock. “Really good...”

“Oh God, yes... just like that,” he gasped, his dick throbbing up away from his body, and his fingers tightened, his thumbs spanning over the front of her abdomen as he resisted the urge to hold her to him while he rutted up into her. “Loved it earlier when you got all feisty, that was so fuckin’ hot. I wanna go through your box of toys and try out every... single... thing on you, just to see you come apart for me. I wanna watch you touch yourself for me, properly this time, not just the little glimpses from that night in LA...”

“You’d rather that than bein’ inside me?” she asked quietly, her fingers wrapping around his wrists, thumbs stroking the heels of his palms as she guided them up to her breasts. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, undulating her hips to grind against him. “Now?”

He moaned, rocking his hips up into her, matching her movements as he captured her nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging as they stiffened with his attention and kneading the soft weight of her breasts against her chest. Tara gasped, her hair starting to escape from the knot, the strands draping over her shoulders as her head fell forward. She slid her hands back up his chest, mimicking his touch with her fingers on his nipples. A whine sounded in the back of his throat, and he pressed his head back into the pillow as pleasure arrowed straight to his cock. “God, babe, I’m happy with anything right now... As long as I have you touchin’ me, I’m beyond good... If that’s what you want, though, I’m not gonna say no,” he added with a breathless chuckle. “Just... fuck, that’s so, so good.”

She grinned, curling her fingers and raking her short nails over and around his dark areolae, then stilling her hips as she leaned down over him, replacing one hand with her mouth. She mirrored the movement of her fingers with her tongue, swirling around then flicking the taut bud. His back arched away from the bed, pressing his chest up against her lips and his hands slid over the delicate curve of her collarbones, across the side of her neck until his fingers tangled into her hair. “Oh God, fuck, Tara, that’s...” His breath shuddered out from him, his hips shifting in a sinuous wave as heat flared beneath his skin. He drew his nails across her scalp, holding her to him as the ache in the pit of his pelvis swelled, the arousal ramping up with every brush over the engorged nubs. “So good, baby, so, so good, just like you, so good for me...”

She lifted her face, her eyes meeting his, her lips slick when she pressed forward and crushed them to his as she teased the seam of his mouth, sweeping inside when his lips parted for her. He groaned into her, sliding his tongue along hers, licking into her before letting her dive back in to explore his mouth again. He released his grip on her head, winding his arms around her back and pressing her body flush to his own. His knees bent and his heels dug into the mattress as he arched up into her, the hard line of his cock pressing against the soaked fabric covering her core. His fingers found the waistband of her pyjamas, dipping under them and catching the side of her panties, before he drew back from the kiss, panting for breath. “Need you. Need you now, baby... wanna feel you ‘round me, squeezin’ my cock as it slides inside you... need to feel you gettin’ tighter as you get close, before you come all over me... Please, sweetheart, lemme have you.”

Tara whimpered, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him again, harder and more desperate, huffing a hot breath into his mouth as they parted. “Already have me,” she managed, swallowing before her eyes met his. “Just gotta take me.”

Sebastian grunted, pushing into the bed and flipping them over, before nudging his knees between hers, his hands braced by her shoulders. “Get these off,” he ordered, pushing himself upright and gathering the sides of her pyjama bottoms again, working both them and her panties down over her hips. “Fuck, what you do to me... “

She lifted her legs so he could pull the pants off, her eyes never leaving his face as he tossed them to the floor and she sat up, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, lifting her eyebrows in question.

“God, yes, do it,” he told her, watching as she peeled them down his thighs, her eyes fixed on his cock as it curled against his belly, the tip flushed and glistening with the clear fluid beading from the slit. Once his shorts gathered at his knees, he rocked back onto his heels wriggling them down to his ankles before dropping back over her and kicking them away. “See what you do to me? Make me so fuckin’ hard for you I’m achin’... where even though I’ve had you so many times already today, I still need to have you again.”

Tara didn’t speak, simply looked at him as she rested back on the pillows and slid her calf up along his thigh, hooking her heel behind his hip and urging him atop her. He caught his lip between his teeth, his brows drawing together as his eyes searched her face. The more he spoke the quieter she seemed to become; though her body language was urging him on, a tickle of concern lingered at the back of his brain, even as his hips settled between her thighs, his erection nestled between her folds. A shudder ran along his spine and his forehead dropped to rest against hers as he lowered himself onto his forearms, his thumbs grazing along the line of her jaw. “God, you feel so good already,” he breathed, nuzzling the side of his nose along hers, rolling his hips and gliding through her wetness, a taut hum of pleasure on his lips as the head of his cock bumped over the swollen nub of her clit.

She let out a shaky breath, her hips lifting to meet his, and she brought her hands to his sides, skimming them over his ribcage. “Used to wonder what you’d feel like inside me,” she admitted quietly, her mouth brushing over his cheek, “what you’d sound like...look like when you came.”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his lungs and he lifted his head to look at her. “Oh fuck, Tara...” The air wheezed from him, and he brought his lips back to hers in a frantic, clumsy kiss. Bringing a hand between them to guide himself to her entrance, he seated himself inside her completely in one long push, moaning at the perfect drag of her walls around him. Tara whined, her fingers curling into his sides and he drew back, his breath gusting across her lips. The sea blue of his eyes was almost invisible around the black of his pupils as he looked down at her, and the corner of his lips quirked up. “So how does reality match up to the fantasy?”

“I...” she began, licking her lips and dragging them through her teeth, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her face softened and she let out a breath, her walls clenching tighter around him as she spoke. “Never thought I wouldn’t want it to end.”

Sebastian huffed out a soft laugh. “Me either,” he chuckled, ghosting his lips against hers as he rocked forward, his eyes fluttering shut as pleasure flashed along his spine, his skin prickling with need as he moved over her. “Jesus, sweetheart, how can this feel so right?”

Tara shook her head, her hands curving up over his shoulder blades as she clung to him, lifting her knees higher to flank his ribs so that each thrust hit deeper until she could only gasp out his name. Tension pooled low in her belly, burning hot, and she started to whimper, begging him with whispered words. “Please, Sebastian, please... you feel so good, wanna come for you, please...”

A low groan rumbled up from deep in his chest, and his hips snapped harder, the coil of arousal wound around the base of his spine starting to fray, the heat creeping outward at her words. “Do it, baby, come for me. Wanna feel you you flutterin’ ‘round me...” he ground out, tipping his hips until the the head of his cock grazed over her walls just right and she mewled. “Thassit... Tha’s my girl.”

The pleasure was sharp, intense, the next thrust shattering the ball of heat inside her. She let out a guttural cry, shards of pleasure slicing into the throbbing need filling Sebastian’s belly as her nails dug into his skin. Her cunt spasmed and tightened around him, her body shaking loose as her climax overtook her. His hips stuttering, he whimpered as the clench of her muscles pulled him to the brink and he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, filling his lungs with the scent of her skin and holding his breath as he chased his own release.

“Fuck, yes, yes, Tara!” he gasped, high pitched and tremulous, his lips brushing her throat as the pleasure flared bright and hot, and rushed out from the pit of his pelvis. With a lewd moan and one last, solid shove of his hips, he drove himself deep, almost stilling as he pulsed within the snug clutch of her walls and emptied himself inside her. For a moment, the only sound was the rapid thump of his heart beating loud in his ears, his body bowed in a taut line over her. When the last waves of his orgasm petered out, he flopped down over her, his skin damp and his parted lips resting against the side of her neck as he caught his breath.

Tara held tight to him, her fingers drifting along the sides of his spine as she calmed her own breathing, the feeling of being surrounded by the scent and heat of him making her lightheaded. “Just feels right,” she murmured finally, nuzzling her cheek against his, her fingertips swirling in light circles over his hips. “Really, really right...”

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, his heart thudding against the inside of his chest. “Yeah,” he agreed breathlessly. “It really, really does.” A voice at the back of his mind suggested that he should probably be a little frightened by that realisation, but the warm afterglow, the gentle touch of her fingers on his skin, drove any concerns out of his thoughts. “Really like this, too.” he mumbled into her shoulder, arching his back into her hands. “S’nice... M’not squashing you, m’I?”

“Not yet,” she said, chuckling, her breath fanning cool over the side of his neck. “Kinda enjoying it, actually.”

He hummed, nuzzling his jaw against her neck and nudged his shoulder up into her fingers when they slowed to a halt. “Me too. Like when you lie on me too. S’comforting.”

Tara let out a soft sigh, her eyes closing and a few minutes had passed before she realized she’d nearly fallen asleep trying to formulate a response. She grinned against his shoulder, her palms flattening against his sides. “Gonna fall asleep like this...”

Sebastian made a drowsy, comfortable noise, rubbing the side of his nose along her neck before sighing. “Does that mean I hafta move now? ‘Cos I really don’t wanna...”

“Don’t want you to either, but... y’know...” She giggled softly, bringing her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair. “Probably should...”

He rested the side of his head against hers, enjoying the play of her fingers over his scalp, before lifting himself just far enough to meet her eyes, his own heavy lidded and blissed out. “Not making this easy, y’know... Y’keep touching me. It’s addictive, but then again, you always could make me feel better with a hug or a touch. Okay...”  He blew out a reluctant breath, and braced his hands by her shoulders. “Moving now...”

He pushed himself upright, a shiver running along his spine as he immediately missed the warmth of her body, the comfort of her embrace, and he ran his hands over the side of her hips. “I’ll be right back... don’t move.” he said softly, before shuffling over to the edge of the bed and letting his feet drop to the floor. Goosebumps lifted on his skin as he headed for the bathroom, the air cool despite the fire burning in the grate, and he didn’t linger.

Tara sighed, her eyes closed as she listened to him, familiar sounds that seemed so much more intimate suddenly. The toilet flushed, the tap ran, and in a minute he was back, lifting a knee onto the bed, a warm, damp washcloth in his hand and a towel over his shoulder He tapped her thigh, waiting for her to shift her leg and gently wiped the stickiness from her skin, before patting her dry.

Her chest ached with his tenderness and she smiled warmly up at him as he dropped the cloth onto the towel, setting them both down onto the floor beside the bed. She scooted over a little when he turned, watching as Sebastian pulled the covers up to their waists and wriggled down into the pillows.

She hummed with pleasure, waiting until he’d settled in beside her, then curled up against his side, and he lifted an arm so she could rest her head between his shoulder and his chest.

“I can keep touchin’ you, even if you’re not on top of me,” Tara said quietly, her palm skimming over his abs and up his chest and he lifted his head to smile down at her.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair before settling back, his eyes closing as her hands soothed him ever closer to sleep. “Don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep mid-sentence or something, though.”

“I won’t,” she replied with a soft chuckle, her fingers teasing the soft curls of hair in the center of his chest. “Promise... I’m almost there myself.”

For a minute, they lay in comfortable silence, his own fingers drifting along the top of her arm, and when he next spoke his voice was thick with sleep, his words beginning to blur together. “Love you, Tara. Whatever happens, always gonna love you. Y’know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her eyelashes fluttering closed as the sound of his breathing, the slowing of his heartbeat beneath her cheek lulling her into a sleepy haze. “I’ll always love you, too.”

His arm tightened around her, and he reached out with the other hand fumbling for the lamp on the nightstand beside him. Even without the additional illumination, the fire threw enough light into the room that, when he forced his eyes to open for a moment, he could still make out her peaceful features. “Stay like this or sleepy spoons?”

“Like this,” she mumbled, turning her face to press a kiss to his chest, draping her arm over his midsection and squeezing. “Like listenin’ to your heartbeat. S’calming.”

“‘Kay... you can listen as long as you want,” he told her, linking his fingers together to lock his arms around her, his eyes already closed again. “G’night, sweetheart.” He didn’t hear if she replied, sleep claiming him almost immediately.

Well, that’s it for this part. We hope you enjoyed reading, and if you did, please consider subscribing here. Thanks for all your likes, kudos, shares and comments! The next part will be out a lot quicker than this one. 

[teamstevesass]

(I see) my future in your eyes (1/?)

Summary: An ensuing saga of cute and adorable married Finn and Rey, starting from the beginning of their marriage.

Rated: T

Warnings: None

Words: 1885

Notes: takes place in the nearish future of the sequel trilogies. 

Also on ao3

Many people dream of their wedding when they're young - the dress, the flowers, the venue, the groom - and Rey isn't excluded from this. It had always been her favorite thing to think of, because every time, no matter how different the vision, she was always off Jakku. None of the details mattered, so long as she was with people she loved and loved her in return, and they weren't on the desolate desert planet where she was forced to grow up.

As she grew older, the snippets of gossip grew dirtier, more mature, and more detailed. People stopped watching their mouths - not they ever worried about it too much before - and Rey started understanding more and more about the world. For example, her wedding night got added into her fantasies of weddings.

However, no matter how many times she envisioned it, dreamt it, planned it, Rey had never thought her wedding night would end with her on the bathroom floor after an extensive round of puking up everything she'd eaten in the past week. In fact, this event had never crossed her mind. Ever. Being sick on the happiest day of her life had never been a question.

Yet, here she is, head hunched over the toilet as Finn - her new husband she should be ravishing instead of puking on - holds her hair and offers soft words of comfort.

“Let it all out,” he's saying, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. “It's okay. I'm here. It’s alright.”

When the bout of sickness seems to be over, at least for the moment, Rey lets her head fall against the cold toilet bowl, basking in the relief it gives her, no matter how temporary.

“This is just my luck,” she groans, holding her stomach as it rolls again. “The day I've dreamed of for so long, and I come down with the most miserable virus that wants to make me its home.”

Finn hums in agreement, but not before Rey notices his slight hesitation.

She frowns, suspicious. “Tell me. You shouldn't keep secrets from your wife.”

“It's just - what if it's not a virus?” Finn suggests with the shrug of his shoulder and a doubtful look.

“Food poisoning? I suppose it's possible.” There had been that questionable appetizer Chewie had insisted be put on the menu, but wouldn’t she have felt the effects sooner than six hours later?

“Well, maybe, but - Rey, think. You're nauseous, exhausted, and haven't had your monthly in three months. It's entirely possible you're -”

“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “I can't be. Can I? We were careful!”

“Except for that time on Corellia,” he reminds her.

All the blood drains from Rey’s face as the realization sinks in. There had been a mission on Corellia, one that had required Rey’s Jedi skills and Finn’s knowledge of First Order military tactics, and there's a chance they had gotten a little caught up in the moment of having a private hotel room.

“What about my shots?” she asks, but it’s a last ditch effort. Finn wouldn’t have brought this up if it were still a variable. “It's meant to prevent this!”

“I didn't want to say anything until I knew a bit more, but somehow the new batch of shots were less effective than promised. With the luck we have, it's entirely possible.”

Rey hopes it's not. They've been married for seven - eight? - hours, and there's still a war going on. And her Jedi training! How can she become a Jedi master when she has to run after a toddler all the time? People would suggest sticking Finn on toddler-watching duty, but that’s not fair to him. Why should she continue working when Finn’s job is just as valuable to the Resistance as her training?

But then an image pops into her mind; it’s her and Finn, only slightly older, sitting on the shore of the nearby lake, pointing out constellations to a young girl with Finn’s dark, curly hair, and the same bright smile. Somehow, she already knows who this is - feels a pull to the child as though they’re connected. Perhaps by the Force, or maybe it’s a mother-daughter connection.

Another scene replaces the first one. This time, she and Finn are in a large city - somewhere on Coruscant? - with some of their friends from the Resistance. Kids are running around the apartment, laughing and screaming with joy. Banners reading ‘Happy Birthday’ and matching balloons swallow the apartment with their bright colours, and Rey can safely assume that she’s in attendance of a child’s birthday party. There are no clear indicators, but she knows the child being celebrated is her own. (And that at least one party guest is from the Dameron clan, because damn if that kid isn’t the most confident five year old she’s ever seen. Or maybe they’re a Pava. Oh god, she hopes it isn’t both!)

The scene changes again, this time with a clear focus on two kids, both looking so similar Rey swears the younger is a clone who just hasn’t aged as quickly as the first. They’re both ten feet from the ground, sitting on a low-hanging branch of a tree on Yavin IV. A quick look around gives every indication that this is the Force Tree given to Shara Bey by Luke Skywalker all those years ago. (Also, it’s humming with power, and she knows of few trees that can do that.) Rey hears a muffled shout from Finn - something about keeping safe - before he approaches her and places a hand on her bulging stomach. (A third child?) He smiles warmly, and she seemingly falls in love with him all over again.

Soon, the images rotate through faster and faster, until Rey can only catch glimpses of what’s to come. It’s dizzying yet exhilarating, and Rey finds herself wanting more .

Once the visions end, however, she knows it’s for the best. The future is a finicky thing, and knowing too much can change everything. Besides, if her life follows this path, she’ll be able to experience the joy all over again.

She smiles softly, hand going to her abdomen, from where there’s the tiniest Force signature she’s ever felt: their child. “We do tend to have some wonderful luck.”

The next morning, all of Rey’s sickness seems to have passed, so she accompanies Finn down to the mess hall. Despite the usually busy hour, few people occupy the many tables, and it doesn’t take either very long to guess how many of their friends are nursing nasty hangovers. (There had been quite a lot of drinking the night before on their friend’s parts. Finn and Rey, of course, knew they wanted to remember their wedding, and had half a glass of some rare sparkling Alderaanian wine each.)

Halfway through their meal, Poe and Jessika saunter in, far too smug for what should be an extremely hungover Best Man and Maid of Honor, and sit themselves down beside the happy - and confused - couple.

“How are the two lovebirds this morning?” Jess asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“How are you two not dying of alcohol poisoning?” Finn retorts, obviously avoiding the question. “I saw how much you drank last night. You finished two entire bottles of Corellian whiskey. Each.”

Jess shrugs, grinning smugly. “I'm just that good.”

“And I think the better question is, why did Beebee see you two leaving the medcenter this morning?” Poe asks, poking his fork at them accusatorily.

Finn and Rey share a look that speaks a thousand words. As soon as they'd woken up, a trip to see Doc Kalonia had been in order. Although, really, it just confirmed everything they already knew. The thing is, Rey's not quite three months along, and Kalonia suggested waiting another week or so to tell people, just in case something happens, and neither are sure what to do.

“Damn, it's been twelve hours and they already have married people telepathy!” Jess loudly whispers to Poe. “Or maybe it's the force. Serious question, can you use your Jedi powers to talk to people through their minds? Or can you just read minds?”

“No, we can't talk with our minds,” Rey chuckles. Sadly, Finn’s force sensitivity isn’t enough to warrant him dropping everything to become a Jedi - not yet, at least, not while the war is still on-going  - so most Force-related things in their relationship are strictly one-way. “It's just, we have some news that we shouldn't share yet, but it's really great news that we really want to share.”

“Whatever this is, you can tell me. I am the greatest secret keeper on this base. Like, did you know that Poe had a massive crush on Kaydel when she first joined?”

“Jessika!” Poe hisses. “That was a secret!”

“That I never said out loud until now. I lasted five years, and I could’ve told Snap four years ago. So, I believe you are looking for the words ‘thank you’. Go on, say them.”

Poe huffs. “I am not thanking you for telling that secret! Next thing I know, the entire base will know about us because you’re trying to prove another point!” He exclaims as a mass of pilots, technicians, and Command staff push open the doors.

The entire mess falls silent. Even the cooks have stopped, spatulas and knives hanging in midair. No one moves for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds, as they all stare at the four friends.

Until Finn starts yelling, breaking the silence. “I kriffing knew it! I knew there was something between you two!”

Jessika smacks Poe’s arm. “Look what you did, Dameron. I would just like to say, for the record, that I said nothing! This is all Poe’s fault.”

“Worst kept secret of the Resistance, really,” Rey adds around a mouthful of brown mush.

“Speaking of secrets, care to share yours?” asks Poe.

Damn, Rey had been hoping they’d forgotten about it. Now, they have two options: tell their friends a week early and pray they can keep their mouths shut until Rey can at least talk to Luke and Leia, or make them wait until they fill out the official paperwork.

Rey knows they should wait, but there’s only a week left until Dr. Kalonia says the chances of losing the baby decrease exponentially, and she really wants to share this exciting time with her friends. And so, with one final look to Finn, she makes a decision.

“I’m pregnant.”

Jessika makes a noise resembling that of an X-Wing gearing up for take-off, and Rey sees multiple people jump, ready to step in and administer medical care or chop a finger off with the knife hidden in their boot. In the few seconds it takes Rey to recover from . . . whatever the hell that noise was, Jess has jumped over the table and wrapped her arms around the Jedi.

“I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting!” Jess screeches, squeezing Rey with her arms.

“Congratulations buddy,” Poe says, much more calmly. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Finn grabs Rey’s hand, glances down at their intertwined fingers, and looks back up with a grin. “We’re really happy too.”

[ecotone99]

[MF] Wild Animals

My mother always told me not to feed wild animals. They could be rabid. And they’ll always want more.

I no longer remember the bar in which we met. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I later would realize we met in every bar and every place else I had been in the past month. I would later find out that our “one in a million chance” meeting was anything but. That this bar was the seventeenth place you followed me to. That was just the night you finally introduced yourself.

“Brett Harris,” you stuck out your hand.

Your smile was charming and I could tell you though I felt the same sparks you did.

But this was the seventeenth place you “happened upon” me at. Which means you knew that the woman beside me was my fiancé. And yet, you assumed you had my heart. You would tell me that you did over and over as I rotted in your dugout that you made specifically for me. You would tell me I should be grateful you didn’t leave me tied up to that tree. Lucky you were scared the neighbors five miles away would hear me screaming and crying for help.

But I knew none of this yet. You had told me nothing except your name. So, like a fool, I fed you.

“Genevieve Rodvold.” Just a bite. Nothing wrong with a bite. Right?

You were nervous. I knew nothing because you knew nothing. You were not planning on hitting me over the head when I found you next to me in a bed I did not recognize. But you were nervous. So, scared I’d recognize you from the shadows. I didn’t. That was your luck and my downfall.

You seemed nice. I played into your hand. Why not, I had nothing better to do. Madison eventually grew tired of you droning on about being the country’s greatest politician’s son. That you could get away with anything and you were going to prove it. You said it jokingly, so I laughed.

Now, sitting on trial for your murder, I am not laughing. You are going to get away with it. Just like you promised.

I don’t remember anything past leaving the bar and you saying those famous words to me.

“He can get me out of any paying any consequences. Just you watch, I’ll prove it to you.”

Then nothing. Three weeks later I found out it had been because you slipped something in my drink while I turned my head for just a moment. You wrote it down on a molding memo pad. You lived in a sparkling house. A dugout basement I was forced to call home. And a molding memo pad with details of tabs on me. You claim to be my soulmate. Funny. I don’t think this is how you’re supposed to show love.

Though, you were a political byproduct. I doubt you’d ever been shown love. I pretended to show you. Pretended to give you what you wanted. And you believed me. That was my luck and your downfall.

You got scared. Crows are supposed to fly away when scared. Only cowards attack.

Even today, as the verdict will ring in my ears any second now, I know nothing of those first few days.

I do not know who’s bed I found myself in that morning. I do not know where you first brought me to. It wasn’t your house. Maybe it was. It wasn’t the house you kept me at for five hundred and twenty-seven days. For four days, you left me chained to a tree while you “tidied up” your house. Making everything perfect for me. Turns out perfect means laying down a moth-eaten comforter and grabbing a first edition Norton Anthology that I’m sure you found lying around your father’s house. You left me for four days. No food. No water. Nothing but a chain around my neck and a promise that you’d be back “real soon”.

Whatever you gave me mixed with being assaulted took days to wear off. I wish they never had. I wish I was still in the dark, vaguely realizing I was being shoved into the trunk of a car that your daddy bought you not two weeks before.

According to you, it was my fault.

I shouldn’t have been friends with someone you had gone to college with.

I shouldn’t have been so openly friendly, shouldn’t have been so nice.

You asked me every day for the first few weeks if I thought I had asked for this.

If I said no, you would shut the door and leave me in complete darkness for exactly twenty-four hours. I only made that mistake twice. The first out of ignorance. The second out of spite. Then never again. You felt that I truly believed I deserved this, so you stopped asking.

If I agreed you were my soulmate, I was allowed to eat.

If I told you I loved you and you believed me, I was allowed to bathe. If you didn’t believe me, (INSERT SOMETHING)

Didn’t I ask for this?

Didn’t I ask for this?

Didn’t I ask for this?

You made me ask for it.

And now I pay for your sins.

Five hundred and twenty-seven days, I played into your hands. Told you everything you wanted to hear. Played the dutiful housewife. Made you fall even more in love with me.

I did not run for five hundred and twenty days. How could I when I had no idea what part of the country I was even in?

There were some days I would snap. Tell you exactly what I really thought of you. That you were a psychopath. That you were abusive. Obsessive. A stalker. A coward. A failure.

And you’d throw me down the steel stairs to my “home” after you were done crying and rocking back and forth in the corner.

You’d forgive me shortly after though. I always blamed hormones. And you’d always return with something that was way too expensive for me to afford to even look at. New shoes. A sheer dress. Diamond earrings. Gold necklaces silk lingerie. Anything you thought a girl could dream of. I’m sure you always just gave your credit card to the store clerk and told her to live out her wildest dreams.

Snapping at you made you feel guilty. You knew I didn’t want to be there with you. You thought you could buy my love. So, I made you think you could.

Once a month, I’d scream. Only once a month.

You had an alarm system that would tell you if I tried to open a door or window to the outside. So, I never tried. I made you think you could trust me.

At one point you considered taking me to the park with you. You dressed me up and everything. Even made a picnic. As soon as we pulled up to the clearing, I ran.

I was a fool. I was in heels. I had no idea where I was going.

You caught me in thirty seconds flat.

There was no apologizing. No explaining it away. You knew then I had been lying all this time.

You locked me in that basement for five days.

Five days of complete darkness. No food. No water. Nothing but a tank top and shorts you forced me to change into.

When you finally came to bring me something to eat, there was pity in your eyes. You ate with me. I got up to stretch.

Then stuck my fork in your neck.

I could hear you scream as I ran up the stairs. The front doors were locked. Typical. There were glass double doors in the kitchen. Your hand wrapped around my wrist the second my feet touched cool slate. I grabbed the first thing I could grab and swung at you. The steel knife caught you in the abdomen.

There was still fury in your eyes.

I got scared. I attacked.

Cold air stabbed my lungs as I ran as fast as could into the direction, I hoped the road was in.

I was right.

I just wish I knew that before the headlights were too close.

I wonder what’s going through that poor couple’s minds right now. They had just gone out for an early morning hike. They didn’t even make it to the park before my practically naked and blood-covered body appeared out of nowhere and bounced off the hood of their brand-new car. Now that same girl is in the middle of “The Trial of the Millennium”.

It took two days for the police to find your body. Two days of your thirty-four stab wounds bleeding out. Two days of vultures finding their way through the broken kitchen doors. I was told the initial officer on the scene threw up as soon as he got a glance at you.

In those two days, I found out I was, in fact, perfect for you. I had been reported missing six days after I had gone missing by Madison. She assumed I found out about her affair and left. But she reported me missing after she realized I hadn’t taken any of my belongs. The police found my phone at the bar. No one could remember who I was with or when I left. Madison couldn’t even remember what you looked like, let alone your name. There was no manhunt, barely even an investigation.

When Madison visited me for the only time at the hospital, she was accompanied by her not-so-new husband and not-so-new- baby bump.

I had no family, and you knew that. You knew about her affair. Knew no one was going to look for me. I really was perfect.

According to the defense team, I was the perfect killer as well. You would have been filled with glee from the way they painted me. Daddy really did pull through for you one more time. Made sure that you really could get away with absolutely anything.

I wasn’t even out of the hospital before I was served with murder charges.

I knew about my fiancé's affair. So, did you. I was betrayed that you didn’t tell me. I held you captive in your own home for over a year and a half. Abused you. Made you buy me fancy things. Destroyed your property. And then brutally stabbed you more than any human being could ever deserve.

You had surveillance in the house. They only showed me shouting at you and then your inevitable demise.

They turned me into a worse kind of monster I ever thought you could be.

Right before the verdict was read, I looked right into your father’s eyes and knew he knew what the real truth was. He did not show an ounce of remorse.

“Has the jury reached their verdicts?”

“Yes, they have.”

“How does the jury find Genevieve Rodvold on the charges of first-degree kidnapping and murder?”

“Guilty.”

Never feed a wild animal.

Do not even give them your name.

They are rabid.

They will take more.

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