#then at 18 he left home wanting to become a doctor

[midnightcowboy1969]

David looking like his mommy <33

[rinhaler]

Uf!Sukuna pulling reader into the shower with him after winning a match 😮‍💨

Writing this bc I don't wanna deal with writing the follow up rn LMAO idk if I wanna count this as canon or not but I guess it doesn't really matter either way. Enjoy hotties!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, underground fighter!sukuna, blood/injury detail, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, pussy eating, male masturbation, hair pulling, showerhead usage (iykyk), oral fixation, praise, mutual pining??, vaginal sex, creampie.

words: 2.6k

It doesn’t take you long to jump out of bed and rush to the front door when you hear a knock. You already know who it is. As you open the door, you see him looking down at your welcome mat, and he’s closer than you’d expected him to be. His arm resting on the door frame and the way his body is hunched over makes it seem as though he’s already inside.

He looks up at you, grinning widely, and the sight makes you gasp.

“You’re bleeding.” you say, doing all you can to stay quiet and composed so you don’t disturb Megumi while he sleeps.

He spits on the ground, a bright red glob soon washed away by the rain almost as quickly as it lands. His chest rumbles with each breath, you’ve never seen him like this before.

You’ve never had to worry about him before.

“You stood me up.” he chuckles darkly, body becoming drenched by the downpour the longer you stare at each other. “Why didn’t you come? Wanted you to see me win.”

“I—” you stop yourself, shaking the explanation away as you look at his features. The way blood perfectly frames his teeth as a bloody cut from his nose continues to pour and trickle into his mouth. “I’ve seen you fight, how did this happen? You’d never let someone land a hit on you like this.”

He moves to come in, but you block his path instantly. And at that, he rolls his eyes. It’s what he likes about you, your stubbornness. It drives him crazy. He knows you aren’t to be taken lightly and you aren’t the type of girl to yield to him without reason.

“You were meant to come watch me win tonight, princess,” he reminds you. There’s a twinge of guilt in your eye that he doesn’t miss, it even gives him an opening to let himself into your home.

He knows better than to raise his voice or do anything to make you worry. He knows how badly you strive to be a good influence to your little brother and how you only want to do right by him. He knows how guilty you feel for continuing to see him behind your brother’s back.

But he can see in your wanton stare as you look up at him so meekly, you feel even guiltier for disappointing Sukuna.

And that is why you decided not to show up tonight.

“I did win, sweetheart, don’t worry.” he tells you, putting your mind at ease. Though it’s hard to feel fully comforted knowing the state his opponent has likely been left in after giving your lover such a gnarly injury. “I did let him hit me a few times.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask him, quietly. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

“’Cause you weren’t there tonight.” he responds, a wicked grin on his face as he tells you. “Wanted your attention tonight, and look how worried you are. Do you feel bad you didn’t come and watch daddy win for you?”

“A little.” you nod. “Your face looks fucked, they really got a good hit on you. You should really get that checked out.”

“And why would I do that when I know the best doctor in town?” he raises an eyebrow. He points at his face and scoffs lightly before speaking again. “This is nothin’, princess. Don’t worry. Think you owe me after you bailed on our plans. And I don’t mean I want you to patch me up.” he smirks as he takes your hand.

You’re a little ashamed that Sukuna has been here enough times to know where everything is, now. He pulls you along to your bathroom like he lives here. Like he’s always lived here. He closes the door as you enter it, locking it behind you as he pushes you against the white painted wood.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs expand. The deep breaths you take are enough to make you lightheaded, but you can’t lose yourself when you’re around Sukuna. He demands your mental presence as well as physical, no matter what you’re doing.

He needs to know you’re with him the way he’s always with you.

“We can’t.” you shake your head. “Megumi will hear.”

“I know.” he nods, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger before he bends down to kiss you. And you don’t resist, you never do. You never can. And he knows that. “I want to shower, ‘n I want you to come in with me, darlin’.”

He pulls away just a little so that he can lift his vest over his head and toss it aside. His muscles ripple even in the darkness of the bathroom. Your hand instinctively searches for the light, eager to see him properly. But he does it for you, easily flipping the switch so that the room fills with a cool blue light. It makes you shiver, although that could just as easily be him.

He's so imposing, so intimidating.

“Megumi will hear us, we can’t.” you remind him, and you’re met with a string of shushes before he kisses you again, the coppery taste of blood stains your tongue, but you don’t mind. You barely even notice as your own blood seems to rush to your head. He’s already pulling at your pyjama top, and you’re letting him. He strips you of the material before threading his fingers through your hair, his tongue tangling with yours as you moan into his mouth.

“I don’t care if he does,” he laughs lightly before kissing you again. “And I don’t think you do either, I think you want to fuck a winner tonight. And I want my prize.”

You don’t answer, you just kiss him again. He laughs into it as he picks you up with ease, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his torso before he carries you towards the shower.

“He’s gonna kill me for this.” you laugh too, a little breathless as he puts you down.

He yanks down your sleep shorts and lifts you into the tub. You watch him as he removes his joggers and climbs in after you, spinning you around so your back is to him. He gropes your tits roughly, lips sucking harshly into your neck as he pinches your nipples.

“Turn on the water.” he breathes into your skin, your back arching from the sensuality of his whispered tone and almost aggressive touches. You yelp as he spanks you, covering your mouth quickly when you realise what you’ve done. “Now.”

He drops to one knee as you do as you’re told, grasping the fat of your ass while you fiddle with the shower head and water settings. You try to supress another yelp as the cold water hits you first, but you’re soon distracted as Sukuna begins to grunt against your soft skin as he kisses you fervently.

“You’re perfect.” he muses, gripping your hips and prompting you to turn and face him. He looks up at you like you were heaven sent. Like you’re a gift from designed to perfectly suit him. It makes you feel like a Goddess, and it makes you moan as he places a hand under your thigh and guides you to rest your foot on the edge of the tub. “Daddy’s perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

He kisses your clit repeatedly before he begins to make out with your cunt. You throw your head back against the tiled walls, moaning louder as you watch him take hold of his length and begin to play with himself. He moans into your folds as he strokes his length calmly.

It makes you heady.

To see him so nonchalant as he touches himself, getting off to your pleasure rather than prioritising his own. You know how good he is in bed. You’ve known what a good fuck he is from the day you met.

But you’ve never been as turned on as you are now.

When he said he wanted to claim his prize, you assumed he meant he wanted to cum. You assumed he wanted to use you so that he could achieve that. But you were wrong; you misjudged him, as you often do.

He isn’t an immature fuckboy who only wants one thing from you. He’s already had it, and he still comes back to you. He wants more. He needs more. You aren’t an object to him, and you certainly aren’t an easy screw.

Fucking you has never been his prize.

It’s you.

It’s always been you.

You tug his hair roughly as your body begins to shudder, overcome with the realisation that he cares for you and not just your body. He releases his hold of himself as he once again decides to prioritise you. He grabs your hips and buries his face even further into your cunt, his licks and laves unrelenting as he torments your clit until it can’t take anymore.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out, convulsing as your thighs clamp around his head. He doesn’t even mind. He spanks you, but there’s no intent to it. The water makes the slap louder than you’d have liked. But, again, neither of you seem to care.

He continues to moan as he devours your release, humming into your core greedily before he finally frees you. His face shimmers as he looks up at you, a look of contentment as his features are doused in a combination of the water and your arousal.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he kisses you again, and you’re soon caged between his body and the wall. You can barely think straight as water rains down on both of you, the shower doing all it can to wash away the evidence of Sukuna’s bloody brawl from his pretty face.

“You taste so fuckin’ good baby,” he mumbles clumsily against your lips, offering you praise to consume before kissing you again. “You make me fucking crazy y’know? Think about you all the time…”

“Shut up.” you laugh.

“I mean it. Don’t laugh.” he smiles down at you as he withdraws from the kiss. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“We’re just fucking. You’re so—”

“You talk too fucking much. You know that?” he smirks. He turns you around with ease, pressing your cheek into the damp tiles as he sucks your neck and bites your shoulder. “Think I better bury my cock in you, might stop you from thinking so much.”

You don’t say another word, allowing him full control of your mind body and soul as you succumb to his will. There’s nothing for you to grab onto despite aimlessly searching as his cockhead teases your entrance. He notes your desperation, tugging your wrist into the small of your back as he uses it for leverage while he slowly pushes into you.

He snickers as you emit a resounding moan from being stretched to your limit. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, you’ll never get over how truly monstrous his length is. So thick and heavy, so long and suffocating. With each slow rut of your hips, you can’t help but think his cock is closing your airways.

You feel him so deeply, so intimately, you can’t stop yourself from whimpering as he fucks you harder.

Harder.

Harder.

With no desire to rush, each stroke is slow and purposeful. Your body feels weak, and weaker still as he begins to pepper your bare skin in adoring kisses. It’s almost as if you could slip down the drain and wash away with the rest of the water.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, gruffly, grabbing your jaw to angle your face so that you’re looking at one another. “Tell me.”

“Y-You,” you answer, pathetically, and he doesn’t allow you to say another word. Not before forcing his tongue into your mouth, silencing you with a searing kissing.

“Do you want to cum, hm? Do you want to cum on daddy’s cock?”

“… Yes,” you reply, your voice nothing but a desperate rasp as you long for him to make you feel good the way only he can.

And you’re taken aback as he begins to move, you both do. Suddenly you’re facing the shower again, and you hunch forward as he reaches above you to pull it off the hook. You don’t see the grin on his face as he observes your bewilderment. You watch the metallic head lower with the intensity of a hawk.

You know what he’s doing, but you also can’t help but think you might be imagining things. He’s doing what you had done to yourself for so many years before you knew about sex toys, before you even knew why it felt so good when you let the water massage you there.

But he is.

He shoves the showerhead between your folds, the stream of water assaults your clit in a way you’d almost forgotten could be so satisfying. The pressure makes you scream, but he’s quick to cover your mouth. The shock of the showerhead had distracted you from the fact he’s still pounding into you. His pace quickens and your mind goes blank.

“Thought you didn’t want Megumi to hear? Am I making you feel too good, princesss? You wanted to cum, so you’ll cum like this.”

You nod, pitifully, too eager to finish again to think of a clever retort.

Two fingers penetrate your mouth in a bid to silence you. And you never disappoint him, it’s like he has you trained. You suck, humming contently around his digits as his thighs slam against yours again and again and again.

Your knees give in, finally, as you cum for him. He does his best to hold you in place, careful to not let you fall as your body quivers. You’re weary, he knows.

But he’s more determined than ever, now.

He puts the shower back in its place, the water becomes a blanket for you as you still continue to tremble through little aftershocks.

His movements are quicker and harsher. The warm water contrasts how you feel, how he’s holding you. He’s a behemoth of a man, without really trying you know you’ll be bruised tomorrow. Especially your thighs. The way he’s ramming into you with one goal in mind makes you heady, but all you can do is drool around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he grunts, somehow still finding the energy to fuck you harder. His fingers dig into your hips, and his breathing becomes jagged. He cums hard for you, moaning loudly as he does. It comes deep from his lungs and gives no attempt to stifle himself, it’s almost like a roar.

A beast claiming its kill.

A king claiming his prize.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he murmurs, once again decorating your cold skin in loving kisses.

You feel empty as he pulls out, but he doesn’t care. He pulls your body into his, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. His lips are on yours and you feel like this is your reward. Feeling so safe and loved in his hold despite knowing what you know.

He isn’t the type of man to hold affection for, and deep down you know what you are to each other. No matter what he says you aren’t stupid. You aren’t foolish enough to think this thing between you is anything more than sex.

But right now, you don’t care.

You do feel love from him and for him.

“Will you stay?” you ask sheepishly. Despite immediately regretting asking, you can’t help but stare into his eyes as you await his answer.

And instantly, he nods. “Yeah, princess. I’ll stay.” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get cleaned up first.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[synnamonroll666]

You Are Still Human

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Wendigo!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: Josh breaks down over the fact that he cannot live a normal life since his possession and no longer believes that he is truly human. So you find a special way to remind him of his humanity... Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mental Breakdown, Insecurities, P In V, Creampie, Slight Choking, Rough Smut Animalistic Smut, Mention Of Breeding, No Foreplay Or Prep, Pain Kink-ish??? (Let me know if I missed any!) Word Count: 3.2k A/N: So I finally got this done! I didn't expect it to end up this long but as you can see, things got out of hand FAST. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy it! 🖤 Josh Washington Masterlist: 🖤 Taglist: @nuggetsandmoose, @maquillagebookmark, @wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee28374728, @bee-who-isnt-french

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

My tired feet slowly shuffle across the hardwood floor as I push myself through the front door of our shared home. I am exhausted after several errands that I had to run today, to say the least. But that's the price I have to pay for pushing them off until right at last minute. Though it wasn't exactly the extra work I had to do that pushed my mind and body to feel so worn out. My loving boyfriend decided to join me, which was a rare occurrence for him.

Ever since the... Incident... He hasn't wanted to go out into the world much. I understand his anxiety of being seen in public with his condition so I never push, but today he insisted on joining me on my mission to finish my to-do list. Perhaps he felt bad that all these burdens were placed on my shoulders with his lack of want to leave the house.

But unfortunately, a face mask to cover up his ripped cheek and sharpened canines was just not enough to cover what he has become. Recovery for Josh was long and hard and we had only just began talking about the possibility of cosmetic surgery. It was a long process before we could even begin worrying about such things.

After leaving the mountain, the spirit of the wendigo left him, not being able to leave where it is bound. But still, traces of an animal-like presence lingered in his behaviors and personality. We didn't know if restoring his humanity was possible, but the doctors were able to recover just enough to get him to a point of leaving the hospital to live a normal life. Though even then, I had to beg to convince them to let me take him home with me.

His parents were hesitant on letting me take care of him, but after some negotiating, they bought a secluded cabin in a swallow forest, just deep enough to give us privacy but not too deep that I would be trapped if I needed to get away. Josh's humanity was indeed resorted, but the primal animal was still within.

And that's where we are now. Josh has an odd habit of forgetting how to act "human" sometimes. Every once in awhile he will stare at someone random and growl lowly, or even nip at the air as though his need to feed was getting too intense. It was worrisome, to say the least. Sometimes I would stay up at night, fearing the one thing that I always worried was inevitable—that Josh would lose control once more.

Though time and time again, he would prove me wrong with a loving and warm cuddle at the end of the day. But sadly, tonight will not be so sweet. I can tell by the way Josh trudges into the living room, his head hung low and shoulders slumped. He wants to be left alone.

Though I understand this, I don't want to leave him with his thoughts again. Bad things happen when Josh is left alone with his thoughts. So I approach the doorway of the living room, leaning against the frame as I watch his tired form from afar. He seems defeated by the way he sat slouched against the soft cushions of our couch.

Slowly, I make my way to him step by step and sit on the couch, my eyes watching him to read his body language. He does not react to my presence, instead staring out into a void of nothingness like his mind is elsewhere. I reach over to the small end table by my side and pull its drawer open, only to retrieve a small, red bag.

I set it on my lap and then turn back to Josh, carefully taking on of his large hands in my own. They have grown a tiny bit since his possession, by an inch for each finger at least. Every part of his body has grown a bit since then. Sometimes it could feel a little intimidating. I run my thumb over the fragile, pale skin on the back of his hand before releasing a tired sigh.

"Your nails are getting long again, sweetheart. Shall I trim them for you?" I ask while reaching for the bag in my lap with my free hand, pulling the zipper to the side to reveal a bunch of nail care tools.

He does not respond verbally, but let's out a huff to let me know that he is fine with it. So with that, I begin my work, trimming and filing away at the sharp and jagged claws. It takes what feels like an hour to get them finished and looking nearly human again. In this time, Josh doesn't move a bit. He is so still, it's hard to tell he is even breathing. But once I finish and go to move my hands away from his, his boney fingers clasp my own.

"Thank... You..." He whispers faintly, his voice coarse and almost ghostly. Life glimmers in his eyes for a brief moment as his light irises study his hands.

But then, after a minute of admiring my work, he stands from his spot on the couch. He begins to pace around the coffee table in the center of the room, as if his mind is wandering, pondering something intense. I watch him for a few moments as he silently walks, feet shuffling along the carpet. But then, he mutters something...

"It's not enough..."

I almost do not catch it, until he repeats the words in a volume just slightly higher than before. But before I know it, Josh is pacing more frantically, whispering the sentence over and over. An eerie dread falls over my body as I watch him, his movements growing more panicked. He seems frightened and enraged, and those feelings seem to grow until he finally snaps, flipping over the coffee table in one swoop of his arms.

"I'm sick of this fucking shit!" He screams in a voice that sounds more like a howl from a wounded animal than anything else. "I'm so sick of being a fucking monster! I'm so fucking sick of people looking at me like one—like I shouldn't be with you or like I'm going to hurt you! I just want to be human again!"

I am stunned, sitting still as ever as if I'm afraid to move. That is until he breaks down, falling to his knees as he let's out a mournful sob. It's as if his spirit has been beaten down to the point of no return by this curse, every day stares, and the pressure of trying to be what he once was. Within a second, I am by his side on the floor, pulling him close to me and embracing him tightly.

"You're not a monster." I whisper sweetly as I caress his thinned out hair, just one more thing he has had to be insecure about since becoming human again. But it never lost its silky texture, which was what I had always loved the most about it.

He shakes his head and whimpers faintly, "I'm just a monster..."

I think for a moment. Usually it's pretty hard to break someone out of this mindset, especially Josh. He has a stubborn way of thinking, which makes it hard to convince him otherwise on a lot of subjects. I continue to pet his hair and think of back when he was human, how much he loved to show me just how much he loved me every day. Of course, a lot of times it would be through physical acts— And finally, it hits me. I know what will break him out of these self-abusive thoughts.

"I want you to prove to me that you're not a monster." I order firmly, which is enough for him to finally raise his head from where it is tucked in my shoulder and look up at me.

"W-What?" He queries just barely above a whisper—just barely enough for me to hear his quivering voice.

I gently caress his cheek, brushing my fingers over his deep scars as I clarify. "Prove to me that you aren't a monster. I know you can. Prove to me that you can feel all the emotions that a normal person can feel, and make me feel them as well in return."

He stares at me for a moment, eyes clearly uncertain about my rather intimate proposition. I can practically see the internal battle going on inside his mind through those glazed over pupils in the center of his white irises. Then, he let's out a shaky breath before biting his lip subtly—a risky habit he still carries from being human, but has to be more cautious doing now with his sharpened teeth.

"I... I don't want to hurt you..." He whimpers like a hurt puppy, glancing back down at his fidgeting fingers.

"You won't," I say as I place my hands on his cheeks, forcing his gaze back to me so he can see my sincerity. "I know you..."

He adverts his eyes once more, only this time looking down at the growing bulge under the rough fabric of his jeans—something I had failed to notice before. Josh had grown so backwards since his turning—so backwards that we haven't had sex since prior to it. I know it is killing him, especially since he was always the horniest guy I knew before this happened.

To make things easier for him, I place my hand on his thigh, resting right beside his needy member. He swallows thickly as he visibly shivers, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin as his temperature rises. It is a subtle action to test the waters and when I'm sure he is comfortable, my hand goes right to the spot I know he desires so much.

But as soon as my hand cups the twitching length through his pants, something changes. A soft growl is heard rumbling at the back of his throat, and when my eyes flick back up, I am met with a hungry and what looks to be primal gaze. His eyes are no longer soft and sorrowful, but hold something almost animalistic within them.

Before I can say anything, Josh scoops me up and throws me down on the couch, knocking a startled gasp to fly out from me that seems to fall on deaf ears. He is quick to cage me between his arms, and lower his body weight down over top of me to encase me in his grasp, like a predator sealing his prey's fate.

No words are spoken, just the sounds of his ragged breaths and rabid growls fill the air. His body temperature has risen even higher than I have ever felt from him, and as he presses his chest against mine to keep me locked in place, I can feel his racing heartbeat vibrating through his chest as well. It amazes me that he hasn't had a heart attack yet.

But still, it seems as if something is stopping him in place. A lost, uncertain, question glimmers in his orbs as though he is waiting for an answer. Though he is silent, I know what he is asking—the final thing he needs to take things to the next level.

"Go ahead, Josh. I'm ready." I breath faintly, giving him the permission he seeks.

As if from a movie, he tears our clothes off at a supernatural speed. I lay there, naked and dumbfounded as I look at the shreds of clothing that fell all around us, surrounding us like some sort of makeshift nest. I can't help but wonder how in the hell he managed to do that after I just clipped and filed his claws down, but I don't have much time to answer.

A shriek of shock, pain, and pleasure tears from my throat as I feel the familiar sting of something long and hard entering my canal, though this time in a more rough and fast way. Josh was always one for foreplay, but I guess there isn't time for that now, as he is already buried deep within me to the brim within just a split second.

His eyes hold a bit of remorse for only a mere moment, until that hunger returns. I barely have time to breathe as he retracts and enters at a pace I have never seen from him before. His hips pound furiously into mine, a subtle ache setting into my joints almost in an instant as he does his work.  His grip on my waist is enough to burst my organs, while his dull nails cut into my flesh, crimson liquid forming under them more and more with each flex of his fingers. If I hadn't have cut his nails before this, I'd be done for. But I feel like Josh would know to be more careful if there was an actual hazard.

The intensity of his tip hitting my g-spot over and over at a brutal force feels to be enough to actually bruise it. Josh was always so good at finding it but this is a whole new level. I push my head back against the cushions as a cry of painful ecstasy parts my lips. Gripping the edges of the cushions and ripped strands of clothing in my fists, I begin to squirm out of pure instinct. Of course, Josh doesn't like this very much. Before I know it, a tight hand is wrapped firmly around my neck, but not enough to actually hurt me. This shows me that deep down, Josh still has some control.

He pounds into me in a sloppy and rough rhythm, determined like an animal desperate to breed. Grunts, groans, and growls that sound less than human are all that are heard from him. I would be concerned if my mind was clear enough to pay attention. No, right now, all my senses were overwhelmed by Josh, cutting off my awareness of the world around us like a sweet death. I am out of my own body now, my soul flying high in the clouds of heaven.

To my surprise, he pulls out. A soft exhale escapes me has he let's go of my throat, but that's only to quickly flip me over so he can now get in from the back. As soon as he shoves his length back inside, he's moving at a pace yet again unimaginable while his claws grip my hips firmly. He is almost pulling me back onto his cock at times, so my hips can meet his own has he thrusts into me. It's so animalistic and natural and it feels so right. And by the feeling of it, it's just enough to satisfy Josh completely.

With a roaring howl, Josh finally finds the release he has been chasing for so long. His speed and strength increases as he comes undone within me, and he fills me to the brim as if he wants to claim me... Or maybe even breed me. It is all too much for me to bear. The sensation of his heavy load spraying into my sweet spot is enough to send me flying over the edge. I bury my face into the cushion as a shuddering moan falls from my lips, before my voice strains away to nothing. My whole body trembles as I practically melt beneath him, and my walls squeeze and quiver around his cock as though I'm practically begging for more.

Though soon that psychical need gives away into exhaustion as soon as my tense muscles relax once my high subsides, my body falling limp like I no longer can control it. I'm just a doll now, all at the mercy of the man who gives me life. He may think that because I help him to heal, I am his savior. But he couldn't be more wrong. Without Joshua, I would be in a darker place, drowning in my trauma of that night. But now, I have him. And in this moment of silence where nothingness hangs in the air, that thought enters my brain. A small smile curls the corners of my lips while I close my eyes, feeling peace as I soak up his warmth while his hot breath fans my shoulder.

He removes himself from me, both of us letting out a trembling whimper, the overestimation stinging our most sensitive areas momentarily. He does not waste a single breath on words, instead leaning down to capture my lips with his. He is careful—careful to not cut me with his long canines, but also holding a tenderness he used to show before all of this. He knows that I am at my most vulnerable at this time, and will take the most caution to not break me at my fine glass-like state. When he pulls away, he gazes upon me with tear-filled and passionate eyes, his orbs reflecting what seems to be gratefulness and love.

"That wasn't the wendigo in me..." He breathes faintly while raising a hand to caress my cheek in a way so tender that I feel as if I could cry. Though I raise a questioning brow at that statement, not knowing what he means. So he elaborates after taking another second to breathe, still worn out by our recent activities. "I just needed you that badly... So I guess that was the human in me, huh?"

I smile at that and nod, admiring how he blushes at what he admits. For someone who used to be so ballsy and open with his dirty thoughts, Josh could be pretty backwards at times. It was something I always adored so much about him. I run my fingers through his raven, disheveled hair while taking in his stunning features, a soft sigh leaving me before I whisper. "You can have me whenever you like, Josh."

Josh smiles and presses his lips to mine once more, and then lays his head on my chest. I watch him intently, taking note of how he smiles when he hears my heartbeat quicken ever so slightly at the sight of him on top of me. He gently rubs my sides, soon stopping to snuggle into my breasts, seemingly deciding that this nest of our torn clothing would be our bed for the night.

Josh always reminded me of a Great Dane in a way. Despite being a lot bigger than me, there was always enough space on top of me for cuddles in his eyes. It was always quite amusing to me each time his large form would envelope my own. I continue to pet his hair, soft strands threading through my fingers with each touch. He let's out a huff in contentment and kisses my left breast, the sensation of his lips on my skin being absorbed through my flesh and meeting my heart to caress it with the love he feels for me.

"Thank you..." He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower and coming out more like a purr due to his exhaustion. My eyes focus on him as he closes his eyes, taking one more deep breath and then continuing his sentence a mere second before he falls into a peaceful slumber on top of me. "For everything..."

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

to build a home we deconstruct our rituals by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "after the shooting, eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. like who will get his assets if he dies. who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. what might happen if his family contests buck's guardianship. luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: marry buck." word count: 44k important tags: fake marriage, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, fluff, protective!buddie, jealous!evan buckley, slow burn, smut what do i say (to make me exist?) by: cuddlyobrien "buck gets hurt at chim & maddie’s wedding, earning some temporary amnesia and thinks he was marrying eddie. the doctor advises they let him believe it. eddie is stressed from day one" word count: 27k important tags: temporary amnesia, mutual pining, season 6, anal sex, blow jobs, riding you became my world by: monstrous_moonshine "buck needs help; to get his inheritance money he has to be married. eddie offers to help, because that’s what best friends do, right? he can pretend he’s not woefully in love with buck, surely?" word count: 30k important tags: boys in love, kissing, oblivious!buddie, hurt!evan buckley, first time, hand jobs, anal sex, rimming, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz breathe out now and we fall back in by: withoutthetiger "set during the summer after 5b, buck and eddie are complete idiots (affectionate) while they pretend to be in love and then realize they haven't been pretending at all. It's just a lot of fake dating, written for the prompt "you could never hurt me." word count: 32k important tags: friends to lovers, soft!buddie, first dates, sexual tension, light angst, mutual pining, anal sex, blow jobs, hand jobs raise her with me by: jayjay__884 "buck realizes that it takes a village to raise a child when a baby girl is left on his doorstep. left with a note that tells him she's his, buck tries to do the right thing and step up to the role that was given to him, finding himself responsible for taking care of an entire human being who is depending on him. and with eddie's help, who is on his own journey of healing and self-acceptance, they both learn about the readymade family they've always had as they end up co-parenting their children together and becoming something more." word count: 222k important tags: kid fic, relationship of convenience, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, co-parenting, eventual smut i can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by: smilingbuckley "eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and buck plan to fake date. they put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with pda, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to el paso. but faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all." word count: 29k important tags: idiots in love, weddings, pre-relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, sharing a bed, eventual smut, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz a thousand words (and then some) by: tawaifeddiediaz when buck and eddie get roped into a photoshoot for the friend of a friend, neither of them expect what they'll have to do. or what it'll cost for their relationship. or, the photoshoot fic that got a little angsty, then a little sexy. word count: 25k important tags: pre-relationship, photoshoots, idiots in love, light angst, soft!buddie, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, explicit sexual content

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part one // back at the beginning

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. all versions of peter are between the ages of 19-23 in this story. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 5.4k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // playlist // no way home fan fiction //

The world seemed to slip out from under you, fracturing beneath your feet and leaving you to sink into a deep, dark hole.  

It was quiet—so unbearably quiet—and the tension between you and your estranged friends had become so thick that you feared it would soon take form and seep into your lungs. Maybe that would be for the best, you thought, wondering if suffocating on your collective grief would somehow be easier than whatever came next.  

“Aunt May…” You sputtered, unable to force the words out. Shaking your head, you asked, “Are you sure?”  

God, what a stupid question. You almost wanted to slap yourself for asking something so mindless.

Ned’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to swallow his own sorrow. “I wish we weren’t,” he said with a small, wistful chuckle, still too shocked to fully acknowledge the gravity of it all. “But… yeah, we’re sure. She’s… She’s gone.”  

Your heart sank, unable to think of the right string of words to form a reply.  

With your mind reeling, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that this was some sort of cruel joke–the kind where the punchline would never quite hit. But all it took was one look at the red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks of Ned and Mj to know that they were telling the truth.  

She was dead—Aunt May was dead.  

And, somehow, it seemed as though that wasn’t even the worst part of the mess your friends had gotten themselves in.  

“I know that it’s a lot to take in all at once,” Ned started back up, perhaps noticing the way the color seemed to drain from your face. “If you need me to go back over it or explain anything then I can-”  

You stopped listening to him, staring blankly at the doormat beneath their feet. They hadn’t even bothered to come inside your apartment, too panicked to waste any time before delving into the details about Doctor Strange and the multiverse and other Spider-Man’s.  

But honestly, you didn’t care about any of that.  

You didn’t care about string theory or whatever multiversal villains had apparently slipped into your world—because you couldn’t stop thinking about what Ned had said about how May died. It hurt to think about it, the shrapnel and debris that had torn her flesh, the glider that had punctured her side and left her bleeding out in Peter’s arms…  

Aunt May had died a horrific and brutal death, and you weren’t sure that there would ever be any way for you to come to terms with that.  

“Peter,” you finally spoke, fire raging in your eyes as you looked at Ned. “Where is Peter?”  

He spared Mj a sidelong glance, as if silently asking for her permission to answer. Frustration began to prick your skin, crawling up your spine as your stare turned harsh, offended that he didn’t just tell you outright. You knew that things between the four of you hadn’t ended well, but this… 

Mj crossed her arms, looking almost as frustrated as you were with Ned’s choice to look to her for permission, and decided to answer in his place.  

“Downstairs,” she told you, her tone purposefully clipped as a way to show that the wounds sustained in the downfall of your friendship had not yet healed–and you didn’t care, because you knew that yours hadn’t either.  

“Is he…” you trailed off, not sure how to say it. If May’s death had been so brutal, then God knows what kind of injuries Peter might’ve sustained in the fight?  

But you didn’t have to speak, because whether the two of you liked it or not, you had been friends—and she always knew what you were thinking. “He’s safe,” she told you, quelling your nerves just a little. A reluctant sigh slipped her lips, shaking her head as she added, “But he’s not okay.”  

You knew what she meant—physically Peter had survived the fight with this Goblin man that they had told you about, but mentally…  

You understood why she was hesitant to tell you about it, too. Of the three of you, there was only one that had ever been able to delve down into the depths of Peter’s trauma and help him claw his way back out of the gnawing pit that threatened to consume him—and it wasn’t either of them.  

And, just as Mj knew you, you knew her. 

She didn’t want you around Peter, not anymore—and so if she was willingly telling you that he wasn’t okay, then it meant that she knew how much he truly needed you right now.  

“You guys should’ve told me sooner,” you grit your teeth, desperately trying to bite back against the resentment rising in your throat. “You should’ve told me as soon as all of this started, instead of waiting until everything went to shit.”  

It wasn’t your intention to sound bitter, but that didn’t stop you from coming across that way. Ned recoiled from your tone like a blow, but you didn’t have it in you to feel guilty right now.  

They had been dealing with all of this multiversal crisis bullshit for nearly a week now—and yet none of them had thought to say a single word to you until now. And while you knew that your presence likely wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had unfolded, it still hurt.  

And it still made you angry.  

“What do you need me to do?” You asked after realizing that neither of them intended to respond to your sharp statement.  

“Well,” Ned started, nervously rubbing his sweaty palms against his khakis, “it’s gonna take us some time to figure out where the villains are hiding, and even longer to work out what to do with them. And, since these other Peter’s have dealt with these guys before, we could really use their help…”  

He trailed off, once again looking to Mj, this time to silently urge her to finish his sentence.  

She rolled her eyes. “We need you to let them stay here.”  

Your brows furrowed, glancing between the two of them as if once again waiting for some sort of punchline to hit. It didn’t.  

“It might take us a bit–a few weeks, maybe—to find all of them and stop them. And now that Happy’s complex was literally blown to pieces, we don’t have anywhere for the two of them to stay while they help out.” Mj tried to explain. She looked defeated when she said, “We didn’t know who else we could go to that would actually understand.”  

Understand.  

If you weren’t still reeling from everything they had just told you, then you probably would have laughed at the word. You would hardly say that you understood what was going on—but you knew what she was getting.  

Mj’s dad would hardly allow two random men to stay in his house with them, and Ned’s Lola probably wasn’t too keen on the idea either. With Happy’s place destroyed, they had nowhere left to turn.  

You weren’t sure how to feel now that you knew they had only come to you because you were their last choice.  

At the risk of aggravating Mj, you said, “I wanna talk to Peter.”  

“I don’t know if now’s a good time,” Mj swiftly shot back. “I told you that’s he’s not okay—”  

“But he’s here,” you stated, nodding your head towards the stairs somewhere behind them that led back down to the lobby. “And you’re insane if you think I’m gonna agree to let two random ass men stay in my house without at least knowing what his plan is.”  

Mj bristled at the harshness of your tone; and so did you.  

You weren’t used to this.  

Mj had been your friend for far longer than she had been whatever she was to you now, and neither of you were used to this—to your once special connection being reduced to nothing more than strained conversations and fractured feelings towards one another.  

“Fine,” Mj surrendered, her hands lifting slightly. “Do whatever you want.”  

It wasn’t until then that you realized that you had been waiting for her permission, even though you didn’t believe you truly needed it. Peter was your friend—and he had been your friend long before he even knew Mj. If you wanted to talk to him, then you had every right to.  

Yet you still hadn’t been able to will yourself to push between the two of them until she had spoken, side-stepping to let you pass. When you started descending the stairs to the lobby, you were shocked that neither she nor Ned followed, offering you a sense of privacy with Peter that you hadn’t expected—as if she still held some shred of trust in you.  

You didn’t want to think about it though, unsure of how you felt about that, too.  

Halfway down the dank stairway of your complex, you felt a shiver dance along your spine. It prickled your skin and set your nerves on edge, but it didn’t catch you off guard. You always felt this way when Peter was around—as if your body could always sense when he was around, even when you hadn’t yet seen him.  

The last step creaked when you placed your weight onto it, and from across the poorly maintained lobby, Peter’s neck snapped in your direction at the sound.  

It felt like ice skittered across your bones at the sight of him, your heart lurching against your ribcage.  

You had gotten used to seeing Peter battered and bruised years ago. Even before he became Spider-Man, he often found himself the victim of bullies and assholes, rarely going more than a few weeks without a busted lip or a new bruise. But this…  

This was different, somehow.  

It wasn’t just the blood-stained suit that set your heart racing, nor was it the lacerated skin or his sweat-matted hair. No, those things were normal—in the same way that being bitten by a radioactive spider was normal.  

It was even normal to see him standing before you, his chin high and shoulders back, presenting a perfect image of strength even after experiencing something as traumatic as losing May.  

Peter’s relationship with trauma had been intimate enough these past few years that you weren’t shocked to see him like this, standing tall rather than balling up and crying on the floor. You figured that was what most others would do if they were in his situation.  

But Peter wasn’t like other people.  

Peter was a hero—and if you had learned anything about heroes in your lifetime, it was that they were incredible liars.  

His eyes couldn't lie, though.

Bloodshot and ringed with exhaustion, his eyes were what had made you feel so sick, your stomach twisting itself into knots.  

They lacked the life and hope of the boy you had loved so dearly, replaced with something like rage—a pure, unbridled and unrelenting type of rage. Looking at him now you couldn’t ignore the burning talon that seemed to rake against your mind, filling your brain with thoughts you didn’t want to think right now—telling you that looking at Peter now, with the light draining from his eyes, was the same as looking in a mirror.  

“Peter,” a metallic tang danced on your tongue as you dug your teeth into your cheek, biting back against the tears threatening to well-up in your eyes.  

Letting your instincts guide you, you rushed across the lobby to where he stood by the front door, reaching for his hand without a second thought.  

His suit had been torn along his palm, and as you felt the warmth radiating from his calloused skin, you tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least he had survived—even if you still weren’t ready to accept that May hadn’t.  

“Don’t,” He yanked his hand back from you, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”  

You froze for half a heartbeat, your hand hanging awkwardly in-between the two of you. “I wasn’t going to.”  

You weren’t sure if you were telling the truth, but it didn’t seem to matter either way.  

Either way, you tried to understand his reaction, even as you winced from the sting of rejection. What good would an apology really do for a boy who had already lost everything?  

It wouldn’t bring the light back to his eyes.  

It wouldn’t bring May back to life.  

“Ned told me everything,” you told him, unwilling or unable to say Mj’s name right now. You clenched and unclenched your fists, painfully aware of the absence of his warmth. “You know I’ll do anything I can to help, so just tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”  

Peter scoffed, his jaw tensing. “We both know that what I want doesn’t matter,” he said bluntly. Motioning to your surroundings, he continued, “If what I wanted mattered, then we wouldn’t even be here. We wouldn’t be asking for your help—wouldn’t be dragging another person into this and asking them to risk their life!”  

You did your best not to react, knowing that he hadn’t meant it quite as bad as it sounded. It already hurt knowing that you had been Mj and Ned’s last choice for help, but knowing that Peter didn’t want you to be a choice at all hurt far worse—even if it was to keep you safe.  

“Well, you’re here now,” you told him, keeping your voice steady. “So you might as well tell me what your plan is—or at least tell me how long I’ll need to play bunkmates with strangers.”  

You were lying when you had told Mj and Ned that you needed to talk to Peter before agreeing to let the alternate Spider-Men stay in your apartment—you didn’t care about housing with strangers, aware that there was nothing they could do to you that you haven't endured before.  

Selfishly, you had just wanted a reason to come down and talk to him. To see him. To know that he was alive. You didn’t care about anything else.  

Sometimes you worried that you didn’t even care about your own life, only Peter’s.  

But Peter cared about your life—far more than you would ever want him to.  

“My plan doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone clipped, “cause I don’t want you getting involved. And I definitely don’t want you to let those guys stay here, alright? We don’t know them.”  

You steeled yourself, resisting the urge to argue with him and instead asking a simple question. “Do you have anywhere else for them to go?”  

He didn’t respond, huffing out a breath, already frustrated with the defiance he knew you were about to display.  

“You might not want my help, but if Ned’s right–” you told him, gesturing backwards towards the staircase, “–which he usually is—then you’re gonna need these guys.”  

“But that doesn’t mean we need you,” Peter protested gruffly.  

Your chest tightened, but you kept shoving back against the hurt. Later, you would deal with that later.  

“It doesn’t matter if you need me,” you retorted with a defiant tilt of your chin, unwavering as his rageful gaze seemed to pierce through your skull, “because you’re stuck with me either way.”  

You hadn’t expected the statement to affect him, but it did, his voice softening slightly. “I always have been.”  

“Exactly. So you might as well make this easy on the both of us and not fight me on it,” you declared, trying to conjure up the most convincing smile you could offer. “Let me help, Peter.”  

A sigh slipped his lips, heavy with reluctant resignation as he realized he wasn’t winning this battle. “We’ve already lost so many people… I’ve lost so many people. And there’s already enough blood on my hands,” he said, lifting his hands to display the torn, blood-stained fabric, driving his point home. “It doesn’t matter what I say—so let them stay here or don’t, I don’t care. But just know that whatever happens to you, it’s not on me. Because I told you to stay out of it, alright?”  

He took a step closer, and you didn’t dare move a single muscle as his lips hovered just inches from your own. “Do whatever you want,” his voice was barely a whisper, laced with a venomous edge that nearly made you tremble, “but don’t expect me to come running to save you when it all goes to shit.”  

His words hung in the air like a curse, lingering in the lobby for far longer than he did. As soon as the promise had left his lips, he was already turning on his heel and shoving the door open, abandoning you in the dim space.  

You knew better than to think he meant it.  

But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.  

You stuck your hands beneath the running faucet, scrubbing the blood from a jagged cut on your palm. It wasn’t all that deep, shallow enough that it probably wouldn't even leave a scar once healed. When you were done rinsing it, you cupped your hands and gathered the water in them, splashing your reddened cheeks.  

Crying would have been a normal part of grieving for May, and when you forced yourself to look back at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you couldn’t help but wish that you could’ve been a little more normal.  

But tears hadn’t been the cause of your flushed appearance—no, because you had never been very good at expressing the more delicate emotions, like sadness.  

You were good at expressing anger, though.  

You were very good at expressing anger.  

After Peter had stormed out of the lobby and abandoned you to choke on his cruel promise, it had taken you several minutes to work up the nerve to go back upstairs and face Mj and Ned. By some stroke of luck you had managed to keep a tight leash on your often volatile attitude, telling them your decision to let the other Peter’s stay with you.  

And then you lost control as soon as they left, loosening the reins on your anger and taking the uncomfortable feelings out on a nearby potted plant, shouting curses as you tossed it at the wall.  

By the time you thought to clean it up, after finishing another string of irate profanities, your hands had been shaking so bad that you cut yourself on one of the dirt-covered shards. And maybe, once you felt the jagged ceramic dig into your palm, you should’ve hissed or cursed more or stopped cleaning to patch yourself up.  

But you didn’t. You stayed quiet, continuing to pluck the shattered fragments off the floor until you had gotten them all, dumping them into the trash before grabbing the broom and dustpan and cleaning the dirt and scattered leaves, too.  

There were more important things to deal with than cleaning a dirty wound.  

Like making sure none of your friends could see that you weren’t nearly as composed as you tried to seem.  

The familiar rhythmic rapping of Mj’s knuckles against the front door made you forgo the bandage you were going to fix to your palm, tossing the rag you’d used to dry your face into the sink and heading straight to the living room.  

Carefully shoving your injured hand into your pocket, you opened the door and tried not to look surprised when Peter wasn’t standing in-between Mj and Ned. Of course he hadn’t come with them—why would he? He had already made it clear how he felt about all of this.  

It did become significantly harder to mask your shock however when a tall, messy haired boy stepped into view from behind them, clad in a crimson and cobalt webbed suit.  

“Get inside,” you hissed a bit harsher than intended, stepping aside and waving the three of them into your apartment.  

The last thing you needed was your neighbors seeing an unmasked, alternate version of Spider-Man standing in front of your door. It had already been risky enough that Peter had come here in his suit, standing in the lobby and sticking out like a sore thumb.  

Once they were inside, you shut the door and turned to Ned. “I thought you said there were two of them,” you noted, avoiding looking at the lanky Spider-Man who seemed just as desperate to avoid you, busying himself with walking around the room and studying the art on the walls.  

Ned shrugged. “He didn’t wanna come.”  

“Not that he didn’t want to come,” Mj pointedly corrected him, frowning at his bluntness. “He just wanted to keep patrolling. The Goblin, the one who…” she cut herself off, unable to force the words off her tongue. Scrapping the sentence altogether, she started again, “The Goblin’s from his world, so he seemed to think that he had the best chance of hunting him down. But we gave him the address.”  

You didn’t bother giving her an actual response, a subtle nod the only sign you had heard her at all. She didn’t seem to care much, just as unsure of what to say to you as you were to her.  

“So,” Ned clicked his tongue, trying to cut through the growing tension. “This is Peter 3!” He announced, gesturing to the other Peter, who was picking up a frame that had been face down on an end table. “That’s what we’re calling him, at least. Y’know, to tell them apart. The other one is Peter 2.”  

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Creative.”  

Done dawdling over Ned and Mj, you forced yourself to look at the un-masked hero from another world. He was placing the frame back onto the table—not face down, as he had found it, but up-right. You frowned at the photograph it displayed, a picture of you, Ned, Mj, and Peter from sometime last year.  

“You’re awfully nosy,” you told him, your voice like ice.  

His muscles tensed, hesitating as he faced your gaze. “Sorry,”  

His voice was slightly deeper than Peter’s, his hair a shade or two darker, his features a bit less soft, but still noticeably young, putting him in his early twenties at most. Truthfully, if it weren’t for the suit he was wearing, you would’ve never guessed that he was supposed to be the Peter Parker of another world.  

You had expected him to be more… Peter-like, in appearance, and yet as far as you could tell the resemblances were very slight, if they even existed at all.  

The mannerisms were there, though. The subtleties of Peter Parker, the things that most people never noticed and yet were ingrained in your mind. He licked his lips, a nervous tic that left you always carrying chapstick in your pocket. His hands hung at his sides and you saw the way his thumb tapped against each of his fingers, starting with his index and ending with his pinky, only to start over again.  

Watching him, taking note of every familiar twitch and tic and habit, made something in your chest tighten.  

And, when you told him your name, it was as if your icy tone had melted altogether. “It’s nice to meet you.”  

For a moment you thought he wouldn’t respond, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly, eyes darting around the room. But then, suddenly, he gave you a weak smile. “You too.” A trace of amusement laced his response, too subtle for you to detect.  

“We’ve gotta go,” Ned suddenly spoke, jutting a thumb towards the door. “Peter’s waiting outside so he can make sure we get home safe, but-” he stopped, brows furrowing as considered whether he should finish. “But text us later, okay? Just to let us know that you’re okay.”  

Your heart stuttered at the mention of Peter’s name, at knowing that he actually had come—even if it hadn’t been for you—but you didn’t mention it.  

Instead, you focused on Ned, giving your sweet friend the kindest smile you could muster—which, admittedly, didn’t feel like much. Despite everything that had happened with your friends in the past few months, your fight had never been with Ned. He was just caught in the middle, unfairly forced to pick sides.  

And you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for picking Peter. Not when you knew that you would’ve done the same.  

“I will,” you promised.  

Ned gave you an equally somber smile before opening the door to leave. Even once Ned was in the hall, already descending the staircase, Mj lingered in the entryway—not for long, a heartbeat, maybe—turning back towards you just long enough to mutter, “Keep your guard up.”  

You didn’t have a chance to say anything back to her before she let the door slam shut, following quickly after Ned and leaving you alone with… this guy.  

The other Peter had abandoned his spot by the end table, seemingly done with investigating your apartment and left to do nothing but stand awkwardly a few feet away from you, clearly unsure of what to do or say now that it was just the two of you.  

“So,” you breathed out, popping your lips. “Peter 3, yeah? Good name. You go by that back home, too?”  

He laughed, a suit-clad hand nervously rising to the back of his neck. “Uh–yeah, no, definitely not. Just plain ole’ Peter Parker over there.”  

The nervous energy radiating from the boy almost seemed contagious as you started to pick at your nails. “Do you have a nickname?”  

He blinked, looking as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “Sorry, what?”  

“A nickname,” you repeated, only for your brows to then furrow. “You have those where you’re from, don’t you? Nicknames? Like, you know, something you go by other than your actual name?”  

“Oh! Yes—sorry, yes we have nicknames in my world,” he exclaimed, his pale skin starting to flush.  

“I just thought that this whole numerical system thing that Ned’s going with to keep track of who’s who seems a little dehumanizing, yeah?”  

“For sure,” he agreed, sucking on his lip as he nodded along with you.  

You gave him a second, waiting and waiting for an answer to your apparently long-forgotten question, before asking, “So… Do you have one?”  

The slight blush that had tinged his skin instantly darkened, suddenly the same shade of crimson as his suit. His grip on the back of his neck tightened, too, his fingertips prodding into his own skin.  

“Sorry-” he apologized for the millionth time, more nervous laughter spilling out alongside it, “I do! I mean, sort of, I think. I don’t know if it’s really a nickname, but back in my world you really just called me by my last name most of the time anyway, so–I don’t know—maybe that would work?”  

The sheer quantity of word vomit spewing from his mouth was impressive and likely hard-to-follow for most, but you consider yourself a bit of an expert in the anxious ramblings of Peter Parker.  

“In your world?” You echoed, instantly catching the subtle mention. “We know each other?”  

Maybe it shouldn’t have been shocking to learn that there were other versions of you throughout the multiverse as well, and yet it was. You figured that it was plausible, of course, considering that two variations of Peter had just been thrown into your world, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right.  

You reasoned that anyone would feel that way, though.  

“Yeah,” the boy, Parker, answered, a bit clipped. “We do.”  

“Interesting.” Your brows lifted, “Are we friends?”  

Parker scrunched his nose, his head tilting slightly.  

“Yeah,” his voice was an octave higher than before, and if you knew him better, then you likely would’ve called him on the obvious tell. But you didn’t know him, and so you didn’t say anything when he decided to double-down on the lie, “Yeah, we’re friends.”  

“Well I guess that means that this is just as weird for you as it is for me, then.” You laughed, trying to add some humor to the situation.  

Parker gave a tightlipped smile. “Definitely weird.”  

The seconds felt like they stretched into minutes after that, silently racking your brain for something to say, hoping that he might say something—but, eventually, you settled on offering an escape from the situation instead.  

“You’re probably exhausted from the whole multiversal travel thing, so if you want, I can just show you the guest room and give you some privacy or something,” you told him, vaguely gesturing towards the hallway.  

Parker seemed to relax a bit at the prospect of being alone, loosing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Uhm–yeah, that’d be great, actually.”  

He followed you down the short hall, his hand finally falling from his neck and his skin returning to its normal complexion as his nerves began to wane.  

“This is it,” you told him, the hinges crying out as you shoved the door open. “It’s not much, but it’s somewhere to sleep, at least.”  

Wasn’t much felt like an understatement, though the room was typical for a New York apartment.  

A tad bigger than your average shoebox, there was just enough space to fit a full-sized bed, a small armoire, and a single nightstand adorned with an old desk lamp and a little pink teddy bear—a gift from Peter, years ago.  

Parker walked into the room, looking around and brushing his fingertips against the emerald quilt. It was a bit old and somewhat thin, but it was better than nothing you supposed, and Parker certainly didn’t seem like he was going to complain about it.  

“It’s great,” he assured you, and even though he did sound genuine, you couldn’t help but snort. He looked over at where you still stood in the doorway, giving you a timid smile as he said, “Way better than sleeping on the streets.”  

You returned the gesture, lazily lifting a shoulder. “We’ll see if you still feel that way in the morning. That mattress is about a hundred years old, so it’s probably the equivalent of sleeping on really lumpy cement.”  

Parker hummed his amusement, carefully perching on the edge of the bed, his smile seeming to deepen when he caught sight of the little bear on the nightstand.  

“I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” you told him, reaching for the door handle, “if you need anything—extra blankets, or something—just let me know; my room’s right across the hall.”  

He muttered his thanks, but as you went to pull the door closed, you heard your name fall from his lips. It was strange sounding, strangled and foreign, like he didn’t quite know how to say it. When you turned back to face him, a subtle wince seemed to etch across his face.  

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” Parker stammered out the question, his voice faltering like a candle flame in the wind.  

You nodded once, fingers still wrapped around the knob, savoring the coolness of the brass against the now-clotted wound on your palm.

He took a breath, his gaze momentarily flickering back to the teddy bear on the nightstand. His thoughts felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to force them out of his mouth, “Are you happy?”  

You blinked at him, unsure of what to make of the hope that seemed to cling to each syllable and half-wondering if you’d heard him right.  

“I-” you tried to start, only to realize that you had no clue what to say.  

There was a fleeting moment where you realized that you could tell him the truth. You could tell him that happiness felt like a distant shore far from your reach, forever obscured by the fiery tempest of a brutal and ancient rage—a rage that, sometimes, didn’t even feel like your own.  

But then he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes; eyes that should have been foreign to you, and yet felt so familiar—and you realized that he wouldn’t like that answer.  

Sucking in a breath, you evaded his question as best you could. “Ask me again when all of this is over,” you told him, your lips curving into a soft, playful arc, “and maybe I’ll tell you the truth.”  

This time when you went to close the door, he didn’t stop you.  

series masterlist

a/n - i wish that i could properly express just how amazing (and terrifying) it has been to rewrite this story. first created at quite possibly the lowest point of my life, infinitely you has provided me with a necessary escape at a time when i desperately needed it. now that i'm in a better position, i found it necessary to give it the plot, writing style, and dedication that it deserved. i'm aware some people might not be interested in a rewrite and that's ok, but for those that are i just wanna say: thank you, thank you, thank you for giving infinitely you (and me) another shot. you're incredible.

if anyone would like to be added to the tag list, just let me know! as of right now, chapters will be posted every other monday, though i may switch that to weekly soon!

part two, titled "crullers & constants", to be released april 1st

[mrsparrasblog]

Take Me to Church

Summary: John MacTavish, the black sheep of his traditional chatolic family, hides his polyamorous relationship with his boyfriend Simon and you their pregnant plus-size girlfriend from his judgmental relatives. When you visit his family while being 9 months pregnant you need to face the reality of his cruel family.

Normaly I think his parents are the most supportive folks but this idea popped up in my head.

TW: Pregnancy, mention of labour, mention of homophobia, fat phobia and strong catholic beliefs, has a happy end

John MacTavish was always the black sheep of his family, and for most of his adult life, he was okay with it. Seeing his family only three times a year made him endure the hate he got from his brothers. In their humble opinion, he was wasting his life; a career in the military wasn’t sustainable. He would risk his life for what? For no wife to come home to and no bairn. If they had seen his single-room bachelor apartment in Glasgow, they would cringe even more. Moving to Glasgow was another thing they disapproved of. He could have lived on the farm like every other MacTavish, crowded with all his nephews. He really loved them, but coming back from every deployment to help on the farm left him with no freedom and several set-up dates with "proper" Scottish girls.

If it had been his grandma’s choice, he’d marry a thin, catholic Scottish girl. And despite the girls being absolutely beautiful, it just wasn’t what he wanted. John MacTavish only had four wants in his life, and his family could only respect one of them (the want for a good whiskey). Becoming a Military Captain wasn’t one of them, dating his Lieutenant (coming out as BI would be an early grave for his grandparents and dad), and his fourth want was you, the beautiful, soft girl who made him and his Lieutenant go crazy. His family would have approved of you being a girl, but you being an atheist, not from Scotland, a plus-sized girl (which he and Simon absolutely adored), and you being in a relationship with both of them at the same time, would be another matter. Sometimes he laughed thinking about what would scare his family more: him being bi, only dating soft, curvy women, being in a poly relationship, or dating two "foreigners." He decided the poly thing would be the final death blow for his family.

So he hid this side of himself for years, hurting himself and, more importantly in his eyes, hurting you and Simon. Both of you tried hard not to act hurt when you spent another Christmas without him because he needed to attend his family gatherings without his dark secret.

The thing about secrets is they can never be kept, especially if his secret was crying in his strong arms with the famous device with two lines in your hands. “Johnny, what am I gonna do?” you sobbed while he tried everything to ease your mind. He knew it was his, always knew. Simon couldn’t be the dad; he had decided as soon as he was 18 to go to the doctors and take the responsibility to never have children.

The first months of the pregnancy were beautiful despite all the throwing up. When you thought you had two guard dogs before the pregnancy, you were so wrong. You didn’t even know that people could get so protective. Simon was attached to your hip every second he wasn’t on deployment, shooting death glares at anyone who even dared to look at you. Johnny didn’t allow you to clean or cook. “Won't let ma pregnant girl cook. What kind of lad do you think I am?” Johnny huffed as you complained about being pregnant and not sick. Even the sex got better; you were living the life with your two perfect boyfriends.

To his surprise, Simon was happy about the news. A child wasn’t something he thought was in his cards, but with you and Johnny, it could be possible. Even if he had the fear that the baby would only accept Johnny as his dad, you immediately told him that he was an idiot—the child would see him as the dad he was. "Who cares about fucking biology?"

Until your last weeks of pregnancy, when it was finally time to drop the bomb on Johnny’s parents. You wanted grandparents and uncles for your baby so badly. In the end, you regretted your decision.

Scotland, Kingussie

You wore a cute sundress, one of the only things that still fitted you since the pregnancy. You looked radiant; pregnancy suited you. And Johnny’s hand in yours, waiting for his parents to open the door. Johnny told you only half the truth when he said his parents were happy to meet you. They were, they just didn’t know half of it. And you were long asleep when Johnny and Simon had a fight about him finally telling his parents about him and that he mattered too. This didn’t help you prepare for what would happen once you entered the cozy farm in Scotland.

The door opened, and an older woman hugged Johnny immediately. “We missed you, my sweet boy. Show me the lovely lass you brought home.” One glance at you was enough to make her gasp. “Dear God, you’re pregnant!” Her blue eyes scrutinized you. To her credit, she really tried to hide her disgust, not wanting to judge you. “Is it yours, son?”

“Mom, of course it’s mine.”

“Well, congratulations.”

She walked inside the house while you and Johnny removed your shoes. Both of you fell into an awkward silence. “Johnny, what the fuck was that?”

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. They’re a bit catholic, but they mean well, I promise.”

“Johnny…”

“Please, give them a small chance, and then we can leave whenever you want.”

You sat down at the enormous table. Fourteen pairs of blue eyes stared at you like you were a foreign alien invading their beloved home.

“So, you’re Johnny’s lass?” his father asked gruffly.

“Yes, Johnny and I have been dating for four years,” you smiled softly. Simon and Johnny were the best four years of your life.

“Four years, so I assume that bairn is yours, Johnny?”

“Of course it’s his,” you snapped, offended that he even asked. You would never cheat on Simon and Johnny. There wasn’t even a reason—the relationship and the sex were perfect.

“I didn’t talk to you, lass. I asked my son.”

“Dad, of course it’s mine.”

“So, you’re telling me that you compromised that poor girl?”

“Compromised?” you asked, confused.

“Not even English by her lack of vocabulary,” his grandfather chimed in.

“I told you, Johnny, you can’t just let your urges win. Look at you, knocking that poor woman up and not even asking for her hand in pòsadh,” his father gripped the table, trying to calm himself down.

“Do you know how much shame you bring to this family, Johnny? I would have given you your great-grandma’s ring, but no, you decided to take the MacTavish name even further into ruin. We accepted all your poor choices, lad, but now you’ve got a non-Scottish girl knocked up without any wedlock.”

“It’s not like the ring would have fit on her fat finger anyway,” his brother mocked, and that was Johnny’s final straw. He grabbed your hand, ready to leave.

“I won’t bother you with my shame anymore. Come, mo leannan.”

“Please, Johnny, stay. I promise Dad and Grandpa won’t say a word. We just never heard of you having a girlfriend, and now she’s pregnant. It’s a big shock.”

Johnny wanted to protest, but you really wanted your baby to have grandparents to love her. You whispered in Johnny’s ear that you needed to stay, at least try it for Sophia’s sake.

Another choice you regretted as soon as you saw haggis on your plate. “Johnny, what’s this?”

“I’m sorry, mo leannan. I told them you’re vegetarian,” he said apologetically.

“It’s good for the baby, lass. At least try it before you mock it,” she said, and you hated yourself for being a people-pleaser because the minute you tasted it, you ran to the toilet, throwing it up.

“That was a tad dramatic.”

“I get it, lass. When I was pregnant with my cute Johnny, I couldn’t hold anything in. Do you already have a name?” His mother really tried to make amends, giving you a bit of slack while his other family members couldn’t.

“Yes, we thought about Sophia.”

“That’s not a Scottish name,” his mother’s tone was full of disappointment.

“You cheated on John!” his grandpa started to scream at you.

“What?”

“The MacTavish family has never born a girl. Never.”

“Grandpa, you better shut your mouth.”

“How dare you talk this way to me in my own house!”

“Mo leannan, start the car already. We’re leaving.”

You went as fast as your swollen pregnant legs could carry you, trying to close your ears to the conversation.

“You won’t see my bairn. You disrespected the fucking love of my life. Who cares if she isn’t Scottish, or not Catholic, or fat? I fucking love her like this. She is the most intelligent, funny, beautiful woman on earth, and I’m going to have at least three babies with her, and you won’t see any of them. Or me. And by the way, I also fuck a man too.” He ignored the screams of his grandfather, how he was disowned, the pleading of his mother to rethink his choice. All he needed was to get back to you, the baby, and drive you to Simon, his perfect family.

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. I should have done this years ago.”

“I just want to go home, Johnny. I’ve had enough.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to be mad at him or thankful for protecting you and your baby like this. But before you could decide on that, your shoes were already soaked. “Johnny, the water broke.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix it at home.”

“What?”

"Well, I don’t have a screwdriver here, and I won’t ask my dad for one."

"Why do you need a screwdriver?"

"To fix the car. You said the water broke; you meant the leak, right? Simon was already on it, but I guess it’s opened again."

"No, Johnny, my fucking water broke."

He stared at you in horror before he scooped you up and started to run. "Where are you running, Johnny?"

"To the hospital."

"We have a bloody car."

"But it’s leaking."

"Johnny, I’m leaking, not the bloody car," you screamed in pain after one of your first contractions.

"Fucking hell, I can bring that baby. I helped a cow with labor; it’s the same, right?"

"Johnny, you’re going to drive me to a fucking hospital. I’m not some highland cow."

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

After 16 hours of painful labor (MacTavish babies are huge), your sweet girl was finally born, and Johnny didn’t even faint, much to Simon’s surprise, who almost caused six car crashes on the way to you. And now you were lying in bed, barely awake, looking at your tiny bundle of joy in Simon’s burly arms. It was enough to make a grown man cry. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon were just amazed by the baby.

The door went wide open. "How is my girl?" John ran towards your bed, looking to see if you were injured, hurt, and alive, holding you tight in his arms. He didn’t even look once at Sophia; he was just too afraid about you. "Sorry, I was afraid something happened to you with these muppets." You always wished to experience a father’s love, and right now you realized you didn’t need to have Johnny’s dad or grandpa for this—you had Captain Price.

"It’s okay, Dad," and this was enough to make Price bawl his eyes out. He always wanted a daughter, but infertility was a cruel curse on him. He kissed your forehead. "Let me look at my granddaughter." He accepted this role without hesitation, when you saw your baby between her two loving fathers, her uncle Kyle, and her Grandpa Price, you knew she already had the family you were searching for.

A/N: I don't approve of anything his family said if this isn't clear, I was almost in the same situation (without pregnancy) meeting the strongly prejudiced grandma of my partner. So please don't come at me with hate, already have enough of it in my asks :)

[gatorbites-imagines]

micheal meyers fic if you still write for him? 🎃

I rlly liked your other fics with him, not a big fan of him being characterized as overly affectionate so I rlly liked your kinktober fics about him

something in a similar vein to that? smut or no smut is chill, just him being infatuated in his own creepy way

Michael Myers x male reader

Headcanons

Im happy you like my stuff :3c ive never imagined he was overly affectionate either, it just didn’t feel like it fit his character very much, ya know? No hate to the people who write that, I just like imagining him as a creepy guy, standing there… menacingly…

I think the only way you two could have met where you made a lasting impression is if you were somehow at the same asylum as him. Be it as a doctor or a patient. But I’ve never read a fic where the reader was one of the doctors, so that’s what we’re gonna go with here.

Joining up at smith’s grove sanitarium hadn’t been your first choice, since it was known as a pretty run-down place, that treated their patients more as prisoners than people. It may have been a place for the worst of the worst, but they were still people in your eyes.

You get Michaels attention by somehow wrenching his care from Dr Loomis’s hands, using all kinds of laws and loopholes to rip it from him and then running for the door pretty much. To you, what Loomis did should get him placed in jail and his license removed, as it could only have made his patients states worse.

Building a relationship with Michael is what many would call impossible. But you believed that every person had something special that fueled them, and just being treated like a worthwhile human being always seemed to do the trick.

It took months, if not years for you to really worm your way into Michael’s heart, or whatever was left of it. He hadn’t really had many positive male people in his life, something you also blamed Dr Loomis for, but over time he grew closer to you, in his own way.

To others it may seem like Michael was the same as always, but at this point you’ve worked with him so long that you know him. You can feel his attention follow you, even when you are on the other side of the yard where the patients get sunlight.

It’s no shock that you are most patients’ favorite, especially after you become head of the hospital, after a very long and stressful battle with those stuck in their old ways. It made you start cleaning house, getting rid of bad caretakers and methods to replace them with better ones.

You took it extremely seriously, and would have any so called interviewers or investigators removed from the premises, to not mess with your patients’ care.

You gain a bit of a reputation in the media at how incredibly cruel you can be to the people who wish to use and abuse your patients. Some call you crazy for protecting them, especially as everyone knows Michael Myers resides there.

But to you, it doesn’t matter. You have no spouse, no children, you haven’t talked to your family since you left home at 18, all you truly have is your job, so that is what you use your energy on.

And if a lot of that time is spent with Michael, then so be it. Having Michael actually emote or pay attention to you, is a big step in the right direction in your book. You can never get him to talk, but he does succeed in learning a couple of signs, though you suspect he only does it because he knows it makes you happy.

Later you would look back on Michael’s escape as something you blamed on yourself. Over the long time you had been his caretaker, you always made sure to be there on Halloween, since it was such an important date for him.

He never told you this, obviously, but you could tell. It just happened that you had needed surgery around that time, something you couldn’t put off as much as you wanted. If you wanted to keep caring for your patients, then you needed it done.

So, it truly shouldn’t have been such a surprise for one of your nurses to call you in a panic that Michael had somehow gotten out. Being bedbound, there wasn’t much you could do but give orders from home and watch the tv.

You didn’t technically live in Haddonfield, but you lived close enough that you could bike to town for groceries if you needed to, but also so you could drive to work without much issue.

Seeing no reports of murders outside the usual made you sigh and slump in on yourself. You had put off taking your pain medication, wanting to be clearheaded and aware, just in case you needed to be. And what else kept one clear in the head but pain.

As bedridden as you were, there wasn’t much you could do when you heard your back door open. You only knew it was that door, as it had a loud squeaky hinge you never got fixed, as it wasn’t like you used that entrance much.

Seeing Michaels looming stature shouldn’t have been a shocker either. What did amaze you to a certain, professional extent, was that he hadn’t put on his usual coveralls or mask, instead it was one you two had made together using safe materials.

There was no verbal or physical reply when you spoke to him, outside of a slight rise of tension in his shoulders when he heard you grunt in pain, as you turned to look at him.

You didn’t want to call the hospital, knowing just how volatile Michael could be. And you may have replaced many doctors and nurses, but they still feared him, all but you at least. The only thing you truly could do was speak to him, to make him stay so he didn’t go kill anyone.

Maybe it was the years of care you had given him, but Michael at some point moved closer, just staring down at you and the bandages around your stomach.

You had a feeling he wanted to poke it or maybe just unwrap it, but you had worked with him about other people’s pain tolerance. Michael still only seemed to care when it was you, but you put a lot of stuff in his notes about your professional opinion and growth.

There were worse caretakers than Michael. In all reality he wasn’t really a caretaker. A lot of it was just him standing by the door, in the corner, or right at the foot of your bed to watch you. Hed shuffle after you wherever you went in the apartment, even carrying you when you couldn’t move too much.

you had decided to heal enough to bring him back to smith’s grove when you healed enough, already knowing how violent Michael could be with other people.

To Michael though, this meant more than you meant. He wasn’t one to feel lust or much romantic attraction, but he was drawn to you and attached enough to just stay, to even bring you your pill bottles and water, like how you would to him at smith’s grove.

You theorized it made him happy, in his own way, to know he was helping in the ways he knew how. Another more paranoid part of your brain did worry about what he did when you slept, since the pain medication had that effect.

Nothing ever looked out of place, but you did catch him kneeling beside your bed on more than one occasion, just holding your hand. Or the times hed place your hand on top of his head so you would caress him.

It was inappropriate for a doctor to do such a thing with his patients, but Michael seemed calmer and more at ease when it was just you two. He couldn’t cuddle in bed with you, and neither did he seem to want to, but being held and coddle in small amounts seemingly worked for him.

Michael clearly wasn’t pleased when you took him to return to smith’s grove, but he actually came along without issue. It caused a whole media storm, but over the years you had mastered those too. As long as it helped your patients, then you would do it, to a certain extent.

And if giving Michael weekends at your place where he got to stalk you around your own property was what he needed, then so be it. you saw it as progress, in his own, weird way. Hell, Michael even started sitting and having dinner with you instead of just hovering. To you that was a win, no matter what others said.

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), vomit, *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Since coming home, I had been sitting on the bedroom floor for what seemed like hours. I had done nothing since I had returned home. I had disassociated as soon as I hit the door. Today was only adding to the mess that my life had become. I received the dreaded phone call from my doctor's office early this morning. He said I would need to return immediately for surgery, a surgery that would possibly change my life forever.

My mind was all over the place, and all I wanted was Terry. My Terry. He would know how to help me get through this. I just had to explain everything to him and lay it all on the table. He deserved upfront honesty since this news would affect him, too. It would affect the life we wanted and planned to have.

I had come to the South to spend time with him because I needed to rest. Too much has happened over the last month. I had lost my job because my health was deteriorating rapidly. I was still fighting in court with my mother over the money my aunt left me. After the last storm, my apartment had a severe water leak, so I had to move in with my godmother and godsister on the West Coast. Luckily, we stayed in the same city.

When the doctor called today, I had tried my best to prepare for the news I already knew. The doctor said he found something during the original exam, leading to a biopsy, ultrasound, and MRI. The results from those were even worse.

As I was anxiously waiting, my heart was beating out of my chest again, and I could feel the growing lump in my throat. My body was getting hot, and I wasn't even remembering to breathe. I loathed this feeling. The feeling of anxiety overtaking my body without my permission. Not again. Not now. Not at the one moment where I needed to talk without panicking and rushing through my words. Of course, anxiety had to make an appearance.

I lay on my back in the middle of our bedroom floor and crossed my arms around my body as if I were hugging myself. “Breathe, Bella. Breathe,” I said inhaling and exhaling sharply. Every inhale felt like there were razor blades in my lungs. Oh, no.

I leaned on my elbows and quickly scanned the room for my purse. I needed my phone so that I could at least text Terry. I couldn't breathe right now so talking wasn't an option. The tears in my eyes were begging to be released. I held them in as best as I could. “Don't cry, Bella. Don't. Please, don't,” I said to myself holding my head back forcing the tears to retreat slightly.

My purse was behind me thrown against the master bathroom door. I turned over and crawled towards my handbag. I grabbed the strap of my crossbody and pulled it towards me. Sitting on my knees with the purse in my hands, I flipped it upside down and dumped out all of its contents. My wallet, lip gloss, compact mirror, lip liner, coins, crumpled cash, receipts from today, and phone all thudded onto the floor ahead of me.

I grabbed my phone but instantly dropped it as a sharp pain shot through my chest like lightning. The pain lasted mere seconds but was enough to break me. The tears that I was holding in were now streaming down my face. I was bawling my eyes out through ragged breaths. Fuck. I grabbed the phone from the floor and searched for Terry's number through blurred vision. I used the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. My eyes took painfully long to come back into focus enough for me to make out the letter T at the beginning of a contact. Luckily, I recently messaged him, so I clicked on the thread. I could see the heart I sent Terry earlier as the last message. I quickly tried to calm my breathing a little more and sent Terry a text. It only told him to come home ASAP.

My eyes were beginning to sting, and my sight was blurring again. I waited for at least a few minutes before looking down at the phone again. No response. I was panicking, so I sent a copy of the same text multiple times hoping to alert him to my current state of distress.

“Please, Terry. Save me. I need you,” I thought to myself. I looked up at the ceiling. I needed him to at least call me. Just a call. He would hear my voice and know. That's all I need right now. I waited and still nothing. I decided to call Terry myself. Two rings, then I was sent to voicemail. No way. He didn't just decline and ignore my call. He never does that.

I clutch my hand to my chest and breathe out through my mouth. I call him once again. Same result — voicemail. I sent another text. This one told him I was having an anxiety attack. I put the phone beside me. I repositioned myself in a hunched-over position with my forehead touching the carpet. I was praying that Terry would call.

*3 hours later

I had managed to get on the bed. I didn't even remember moving or falling asleep. I was just so out of touch with reality currently, disassociated and detached. I awoke to my entire body aching. I leaned up on the bed and slid to the bottom edge. My head was pounding, and the feeling was making me nauseous. The room seemed to be spinning. Trying to calm myself again, I sat there for a moment.

I knew I looked like shit. My phone was still on the floor. “Shit!” I yelled. I went into an instant panic. What if Terry called, and I missed it? What if he texted while I was in such a deep sleep? I slid down the edge of the bed letting my butt thud to the floor. I reached for the phone bringing it to my chest. I hoped that I hadn't missed him.

I unlocked my phone to see no missed calls and no new messages. What the fuck? That couldn't be right. I checked that I had service and hadn't accidentally turned on DND or airplane mode. Nope, I hadn't done either. This wasn't right. Terry would have at least texted me back.

I rushed to get up from the floor with the phone still in my hand. I headed out into the hall to see if Terry was inside. “Baby? Terry? Are you here?” I yelled walking into the living room. It was empty and so was the kitchen. I walked towards the large bay window in the living room and peered out. His truck wasn't there either. Where was he?

I tried to call Terry again. Now, it was going straight to voicemail. I left a brief message asking for him to come home and let him know about the panic attack. I hung up, and I sent a message again.

Now, I was starting to worry. This wasn't like him. Was he hurt? Was he in jail? Admittedly, Terry does sometimes have a bit of a temper.

Immediately, I tried calling his father. It rang and rang. He picked up and answered in his usual manner. “Jed speaking,” he said. “Hi, have you seen Terry? I've been trying to reach him for hours,” I said rushing out every word. “Whoa, slow down. I haven't talked to him since this morning, baby girl. Let me ask Linda. Linda! Linda!” he yelled away from the phone. I could hear her answer from the other room. “Ya’ talked to Terry since mornin’?!” he yelled back. I could overhear her respond “No”. “I'm sorry, baby. Neither of us have heard from him. I do know that he went downtown to see if he could get some more help for Mike,” he said. “Mike?” I asked confused. “Yeah,” he started, “Them folks decided to keep him, and Terry is supposed to be going to get him out.”

“I knew about Mike gettin’ locked up, but that's ‘bout it. Terry hasn't said much,” I said putting the pieces together. “Well, that's ‘bout all I know. If we hear from him we'll tell him to call you. M’kay?” he said. “Yes, sir,” I said before ending the call.

I was too afraid to leave the house because I wanted to be there if Terry returned. I sat down on the couch and waited in silence. I was checking my phone every minute for any new calls or messages. Nothing.

I had been waiting for at least an hour in complete silence on the couch when my phone rang. I saw Terry's name on the screen and immediately answered it. “Baby—!” I started to speak. “Bella, can you chill?” Terry barked through the other end. I paused for a second. “Terry, I was worr—,” I tried to speak again. “The hell did you call my parents for? I'm trying to figure out all this shit with Mike. Give me a fucking break. Will you?” he yelled. “I understand that now, but Terry—,” I said before hearing him hang up.

I couldn't believe it. He had yelled at me and hung up on me. What the hell? I wasn't aware of the severity or urgency of Mike's situation. It wasn't like Terry was telling me anything. This was one of the biggest issues in our relationship. Communication between us wasn't always the best or healthiest. In stressful moments, I found it hard to express myself in any capacity, and Terry barely talked at all. I just really needed to talk to him about the call I received from the doctor.

Then again, maybe I was being too overbearing. He needed to focus on Mike, right? You know what? I just needed to relax. Breathe and fucking relax. Terry just needed space. He would come home, we would talk, and everything would be fine. There was no need to make this situation worse than it was.

I waited for another hour. I was lying on the couch and cuddled under my blanket. I had started dozing off when I heard the door open. I jumped up to see Terry walking through the door. His face was filled with anger, and his nostrils were flared. He was pissed.

I sat back down. The worst thing to do was bother Terry when he was this angry. He rushed through the house and stormed to the bedroom. He didn't even acknowledge my presence or notice me sitting there. As much as I wanted to console him, I knew better. If I bothered him right now, he would retreat and leave. That was the worst possible outcome for me.

I went into the kitchen to at least try to find something to cook. I searched the fridge and found thawed steaks. I placed them on the counter beside the stove along with a bell pepper and onion. I searched the cabinets for an appropriate side and settled for boxed mac-and-cheese. I wanted to cook something soon, so we would have a reason to sit and talk.

*1 hour later

The food was done, but Terry was nowhere to be found. I sulked towards the bedroom. I knew this was going to go one of two ways. Either Terry was calmed down, or he was still a raging bull. I stood at the bedroom door. I reluctantly opened it and peered inside. “Terry,” I called out from the doorway. My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Terry,” I said a little louder. “What?!” he barked from the closet.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. He was still pissed. I lightly closed the door trying my hardest not to aggravate him any further. “Food’s ready. I made steak and—,” I said before he rushed out from the closet. “I'm not eating. I got shit to do, Bell!” he yelled walking towards his side of the bed. He leaned over and picked up his backpack and duffel bag from the floor. Panic took over my face.

“Terry, are you leaving to go somewhere?” I asked moving closer to him. “The hell does it look like? I'm leaving tonight,” he said placing clothes into the duffel. “Wait! I need to talk to you,” I said reaching for his arm. “Not now. I got to be there by Thursday afternoon to get Mike,” he said snatching his arm away from me. “Can you leave tomorrow afternoon? Anytime aft—,” I whimpered. Terry's eyes shot upward at me. “Don't fucking start. I already told you Mike was in some shit!” he snapped coming towards me. “But you never said—,” I said backing away.

This wasn't Terry. This wasn't my Terry. This wasn't the Terry who had never yelled at me, who never cursed at me, who even in my fits of anger calmed me down. Who was this?

“I get that you're upset, but I got a call from the doctor's office today. Remember, the tests they ran?” I asked trying my hardest not to cry. Tears were forming, but I refused to let them fall. I needed to stay strong. “Just stop for a second,” I said walking up to Terry and placing my hand on his chest. “What now, huh? What is it that can't possibly wait?” he asked. His face had turned into a scowl and his eyes had narrowed in annoyance. If I didn't think this man still loved me, I would label this a look of pure disgust and hate.

I was trying my hardest to just say it, but I knew it was too delicate of a matter. Terry was too far gone. This wasn't something you blurt out in a fit of rage or frustration. A panicked and rushed speech wouldn't suffice here. This was something so delicate that even the smallest detail needed to be discussed carefully. So, I decided to hold my tongue.

“Nevermind. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you la—” I said removing my hand from his chest. I could feel his heart racing. Maybe, at this moment, he needed me more than I needed him. “So, what's your plan? Are you just going to bail him out and bring him back with you?” I asked earnestly trying to find some sense of familiarity in his eyes, but I couldn't. With that, I buried every emotion I was carrying so that I could give Terry my full attention. “No, I plan on staying for a while. I got other shit to sort out besides just the shit with Mike,” he said turning away from me. “Wait, what? When will you be back?” I asked. “I don't fucking know!” he snapped again. “Terry, I'm only asking,” I said lowering my head. This conversation was quickly going downhill. “How am I supposed to tell you what I don't know, Bell? It may be a few weeks. Hell, it may be a month,” he said continuing to pack his duffel.

“Terry, I need you before then. I need you here tomorrow. The doctor's going to be calling me back. And I—,” I said twiddling my fingers. I hadn't even noticed that I was pacing on my side of the room. I stopped to look at Terry and tried to just say it. “There's something wrong, and he wants me back by—,” I said sniffling. Terry ceased his movements and looked up at me. The look on his face shook me to my core. Hate was inscribed as the only visible emotion. His eyes had darkened, his nostrils were flared, and his jaw was clenched tight enough to accentuate the veins from his temples.

“There's always something wrong with you. All the fuckin' time! It's always about you!” he yelled. His voice thundered through the room. Every word pierced my heart like a bullet. I stood frozen in shock. The man who promised to never hold my health against me had done exactly that.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body. There was now a sour taste in my mouth as my saliva grew thick. My hands were now shaking, and my legs felt like they would give out at any moment. I rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I instantly felt the vomit rising from my belly. I hovered over the toilet. I spewed up nothing but bile due to having an empty stomach. The acid scorched my throat and flooded out of my nostrils. Every breath I took burned my nose and throat. This felt minuscule compared to the words Terry just said to me.

I dropped to my knees and kneeled before the toilet. The vomit wouldn't stop coming. I held myself up by placing my hands on the edge of the toilet. I was bawling silently. My chest was heaving up and down rapidly. The tears began to pour freely and landed on the toilet seat. I snatched a wad of tissue paper from the roll and wiped my face.

I tossed the tissue into the toilet and closed the lid. I flushed it and slumped back onto the side of the tub. The cold porcelain was hard and uncomfortable against my bare skin. My adrenaline was all over the place, so I pulled my knees up to my chest and dropped my head. Hanging low and uneasy, my head felt heavy against my legs.

Calm down, Bella. Calm down.

I was lost. I was hurt. I was angry. I was overwhelmed. I was exhausted. Worst of all, I felt alone. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now, I felt like my life was ending here. He had crushed me without even knowing it. His face and actions showed no sliver of empathy or remorse. How would we ever come back from this? Better yet, could we?

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh

A/N²: You will learn what the illness is in part 2. Stay tuned!

[pix-writes]

I can hear your heartbeat

Vampire!Stanford Pines x F!Reader

Summary: Ford encounters a creature in the woods that bites him and he seems to be a little… strange. He can't seem to focus with his lab assistant around.

AO3

Words: 3.4K

Rating: Explicit (18+) | Warnings/tags: blood drinking, smut, mutual pining, possessive!ford, mildly dub con (because of circumstances, if you squint?), passing out/fainting, blood and vampire kink (ofc), no use of y/n | A/N: Here's my vampire ford fic, happy halloween!

He knows that you know something’s not quite right. He pauses in his journal entry as he risks a glance in your direction.

He knows that you know something’s not quite right. He pauses in his journal entry as he risks a glance in your direction. You were focused, head bent over your work, leaving him the sight of your curved neck. Sensing that you are being observed, you look up across the lab and meet his eyes.

He can almost fancy that he can hear your heartbeat change as he resumes writing, the steady thump-thump rising to a faster tempo. He can feel your stare as he looks down at his page… now, your heart’s rhythm goes back to resting. Ford has always felt a comfort in your presence, now it seemed to be permeating the whole house… warm, inviting. It’s become a distraction.

He needed to recall in detail what he had observed of his latest creature sighting, he crosses out his last line, realising that he had actually written about you in his distracted state. He just needed to convince you that he was fine, so he could continue to observe the effects, he had most of an antidote ready once he had recorded what he needed.

It had all started a few days ago, you had been at an out of town harvest fair. You had tried to persuade Ford to take a step out of the lab for once, though he declined. It was the perfect evening to study the nocturnal fungi species he had been observing in the forest.

Suddenly, out of nowhere he had been chased, heard the beating of leathery, wide wings of a bat-like creature. It had pursued him for half of the journey and despite his frantic attempts to shake him off, the creature had been able to sink his claws into him and left a bite before he managed to get some good punches in, rolling off of a verge down into thicket. The vampiric creature flew off at that point, whether it was the forest terrain or the fighting that had deterred it from following him home from there, he didn’t know for certain.

You had found him, of course you had. He had lost so much time, that by the time he had gotten over the threshold, his strength had weakened, he’d dragged himself into the kitchen by the time you pulled up in your car. He could imagine now, how disturbing it must’ve been to see the house and him in such a state on your return. However, he didn’t catch it at the time, your determined mind a useful asset times of emergencies, patching him up. He had felt proud in that moment, despite his position, your attributes were perfect qualities in an assistant. Even if he had to endure a mild reprimand to lone working from you after the fact, he congratulated himself that he had found someone up to the tasks that his research would need.

You had insisted that he see a doctor, just in case, maybe the creature could’ve carried rabies. As the days wore on, though, he knew you weren’t satisfied with his explanations. You hadn’t said anything, but from your breathing, how your eyes widened, he sensed the slight fear. It was foolish of him, but Ford was only just realising your observant nature was not purely limited to study, but to people and your surroundings. Had you always been scrutinising him in this way before?

Ford felt a nagging guilt at the idea of withholding information from you, however, he didn’t want you to freak out. You could be mad at him later and once you saw his results, he was sure that you couldn’t be upset for long. After all, wasn’t it you he had caught reading those cheap, gothic romances a month into your acquaintance? It still amused him to find you at your desk during breaks reading them, irked that you had been interrupted. Sometimes he even found them on the shared counterspace in the lab and he had gleaned that vampires seemed to be a common denominator.

Part of him wished that Fiddleford was still here, having left you both for a long stay with family, although his good friend was more superstitious than either of you put together. Perhaps the house was too quiet without him? Though that didn’t seem right.

Working silently with someone who didn’t feel the need to converse (or play the banjo at odd hours) wouldn’t have bothered him before, in fact he liked how you weaved past one another in the lab when you were working on the same analysis, completely in tune. But something had shifted… his new state was testing his endurance, if only he had another distraction…

A hand waved in front of his face and he dropped his pen. “Earth to Ford!”

“Yes?”

“I’ve finished the first round of the experiment!” You grinned, beckoning him to follow you to your side of the lab. “I think it might need just a little adjustment with the amount of sample I used but…”

Absorbed in your own explanation, your elbow knocked over the tripod that held your analysis.

“Be careful!” 

“Shit, sorry I’ve got it!”

The crucible had broken, and you scrambled to pick it up and sliced one of your fingers in the process, letting out a hiss at the sting.

Ford had let in a breath at that moment. Big mistake. His senses had been flooded with the delicious scent of your blood. He dug his fingers into the flesh of his arm to centre himself.

He could feel saliva flood into his mouth, the soreness in his canines and tried to swallow. His vision became tunnelled, focused now on the scents of the room. He could hear his own heartbeat, fast and erratic in his ears. Not now!

“Clumsy me, stay back, I don’t want you to get acid on you!” You hadn’t picked up on anything strange about him as he moved back. Your voice sounding far away.

After sweeping up the broken pieces into the waste bucket, instinct made you go to put your bleeding finger into your mouth. Ford caught your arm harshly. 

“Don’t do that!” You looked at him quizzically. Ford could sense the fluctuations in your heartbeat. When you breathed in, the muscles in your neck, your jugular, became more prominent at this angle. Fuck. “It’s not hygienic.” 

“It’s like a papercut, Ford.” The thump, thump, thump became steady again.

“Here.” Quickly handing you a tissue to stem the flow, he opened the packaging on a band-aid.

You noticed the clench to his jaw. “I’m fine, you know, I can patch myself up.”

But he continued without saying anything, securely wrapping your finger, the tension remaining.

Ford was packing items back into the first aid kit when he suddenly stumbled, holding onto the counter so he didn’t fall. “Hey! Ford, you alright?”

“Ah, fine, I- um…”

You frowned. “I really think you need to go to see a doctor; this isn’t right.” Before he could stop you, your hands were cupping his face, checking him over. The heat of your hands felt like fire on his skin. “Your wound looks worse. And you’re freezing!”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll go in the morning, first thing, don’t worry.” 

Ford told you to continue with what you were doing, and you relented under assurances that he’d take care of himself. He saw the disappointment in your eyes as he brushed you off. It took all of his will to not grab hold of you right then and there, wanting to sink into your touch and your care. You and Fidds were always clucking round him like mother hens. He felt so tired, his mind wanted him to give into it, but he pushed himself up the stairs, feeling with each step that haze that had almost overpowered him dissipate.

He let out a groan of relief once he closed his bedroom door. His skin felt like it was in a cold sweat. He dragged a hand through his hair and pulled at the roots to sharpen his focus. He couldn’t keep this up much longer, he needed to feed. Later, he told himself. Later.

Slipping out of your shoes, you navigated the quiet hallways of the shack, your home away from home, with care.

Ever since he had the encounter with that giant bat creature in the woods, he hasn’t been the same, perhaps anyone else would not notice the slight changes in his patterns, since he was one to neglect himself and bury himself in work on a daily basis, but you knew better. You had become determined to figure it out, once and for all.

He was too stubborn for his own good, something you clashed on at times, and so you hadn’t pushed him too much to seek medical attention, knowing there was a fine balance in how much you could say to Ford as his assistant. You had your suspicions of what was happening, but even then, it seemed absurd; you had seen some strange things happen in Gravity Falls, but could that really be real?

Just in case. Just for my peace of mind, you reassured yourself as you pulled the journal out of the pile of notes on Ford’s desk, flipping through sections to skip to the last entries. There must be something in here that can give you a clue to how to help him…

There was always a dim light in the lab, a faint bluish glow from the machinery that Fiddleford was working on. Sneaking around like this felt illicit and you knew that Stanford wouldn’t take kindly to you going through his work without permission. Turning on the desk lamp felt like it would dispel the stillness of the empty place and so you strained your eyes to read on in the light already provided.

A creak sounded from behind you, sending a jolt of panic to your gut.

“You shouldn’t be down here. It’s late.” The light backlit the figure’s silhouette as they stepped out from the doorframe, the tone unreadable. 

“S-Stanford!” You retreated from the desk. “You startled me. I was just-”

“-Sneaking around in the dark?” As he stepped forward, turning on one of the lamps, the warm lighting disrupting the angle of the shadows.

“Look, I apologise if I have crossed a line but,” You paused in your answer, noticing behind him in the storage room, where discarded cups had rolled across the table, leaving trails of blood. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“And what will you do with the answer?” The reply made you grit your teeth, hands balling up into fists. You felt awash with adrenaline. How dare he ask you such a thing! Did he think after all this time you’d do anything against him?

Without even thinking of it consciously, Ford had been stalking towards you as you had been backing away and you bumped into the counter behind you.

“I just want to help you, Ford!” You didn’t mean for it to come out sounding indignant. It was almost a whine as Ford practically pinned you to the spot, gripping the counter either side of you. Your breath hitched at how close he was.

"I can hear your heartbeat." Ford’s eyes were dark as ink as he met your gaze. You shivered. “It's beating pretty fast.”

“Ford,” You let out a nervous laugh. “C'mon you're messing with me.”

“Seems to happen every time I get close to you. Do I make you nervous?”

“N-no I, nhg!” Your reply is cut off as Ford leans down to place a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist. The touch tickles your skin, making you flush with pleasure at the intimate sensation.

“Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” It seemed like he was murmuring to himself, nuzzling his head into your hand and you catch a glimpse of pearly, sharp canines. “You want to help me? Because I don’t think I can stop myself right now.”

Even as alarm bells flood your mind at the situation, you didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away from his touch. Instead you gently pushed your thumb across his lips, inspecting the fangs, another shot of fear coursing through you. Stunned, you watched as Ford pressed a kiss to your wrist, opened his jaw and bit into your flesh in a supernaturally fluid motion.

The scream that escaped your mouth became stuck in your throat as the pain seared through you. It felt as though his fangs had hit bone.

The muscles in your body locked up. Heart thudding against your own chest, tears flowing unbidden from your eyes. You whimpered as Ford’s mouth felt tight around your now-open wound, free hand striking out at the table for support.

The stabbing pain suddenly subsided, leaving in its wake a pleasure that made you feel like you were on the drunk side of tipsy. It thrummed through your body, down between your legs.

You moaned, unable to look away from the sight of Ford, eyes glazed over as he took what he wanted from you.

Why had he resisted for so long?

The animal blood he had been gorging himself on just a moment ago, faded away in comparison to human blood. The salty taste of your skin giving him a complete contrast to the sweetness of your blood that was as blissful as it was hard to describe.

He felt every throb of your heart as he fed from you uncoiling his self-control, the shame in his gut from hurting you mixing with the lust he had pushed down for far too long. It wasn’t until your fingers carded through the side of his hair that a flash of clarity came over him and he loosened his grip on your arm. Soothing the bite with his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste incredible.” He growled.

This had to be some kind of dream of yours, some fantasy come to life as you stared blearily into the hungry look of the man in front of you. Now it was your turn to pull him in, pressing your lips to his, the metallic taste of your own blood on his tongue.

"I need to taste more of you." His touch roamed over you, fingers dipping under your clothes before he paused. "Can I?"

"Yes, god, yes.” You didn't have to wait long, helping him to push off your pants, flinging them to the side by the time his mouth was on you. Lips trailing across your inner thigh. If your head wasn’t swimming with desire, you would have felt a little embarrassed at how wet you had become since the researcher had fed from your wrist.

But Ford wasted no time, mouth warm and insistent, humming as you moaned, the vibrations making you tip your head back.

Though, you could tell his movements were careful, and you wondered whether he hesitated from not wanting to hurt you or from inexperience.

“Ford, please." Taking hold of his hand on your hip, you guided him. 

“Yes, yes! Like that.” He was a quick learner, slipping his fingers into your wet pussy, relieving the ache you had felt. 

Ford’s little pleased noises from your praise was setting you alight. His tongue glided through your folds, flicking up to your clit, his prominent nose adding extra stimulation as he ate you out.

“So good.” Your fingers once again ran through his hair, this time gripping as you reached your climax, whimpering as Ford lapped at your sensitive skin, savouring the taste of you.

There was a moment where you both caught your breath.

“Wow! That was amazing.” Ford looked dishevelled, a rare sight for you as he was usually so composed. Even when you had both been running from danger, he didn’t look like… this.

His face wasn’t the only part of him that was flushed, the ruddy colour dusted over the tips of his ears and over his chest. Tiny specks of blood littered his white shirt like freckles. Further down you could see the straining bulge in his pants, untouched. His pupils were blown, raking over you from head to toe in a way that made you feel conscious that you must also look a wreck. He felt warmer to the touch now and you filed that thought away for later analysis. That’s when you noticed that he wasn’t nearly as undressed as you are. That seemed unfair.

He said your name. “-I… It was, remarkable! But I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- are you, oh!”

Ford ceased to remember what he was trying to say as you kissed him, fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

He helped you to push up onto the counter, shrugging his shirt off as he went, pulling more off of you as you nibbled at his ear and down his jawline.

“I need you.” Your touch went to his waist and he paused to unbuckle his pants. God, he had already left a wet spot on his boxers and you gasped into his mouth as you felt him. He was thicker than you had ever had before.

Ford leant onto the desk, gently pushing you backwards as he took up the space between your thighs. He pushed his cock against your slick folds, teasing you for a moment with the tip to watch you buck into his touch before he pushed himself all the way in. A guttural moan escaping from him as your pussy clenched around him.

His hands spread over the warm skin of your torso, pushing up your sweater which you discarded.

“Doing so well for me.” He rolled your nipples between his fingers as he continued his slow pace. You begged for him to use his mouth and when he did, it felt incredible, the barest hint of fangs along soft skin as he sucked at your tits. “Perfect.”

You whined, loud, clenching around his cock.

Ford let out a soft noise. It was familiar to you, like when he found something unexpected within his research, or you did something he found surprising. “You like that?” 

The smirk that was starting to form on his face was devastating. He could hear as your heartbeat thrummed once more into the rhythm that thrilled him, continuing to praise you.

“So perfect… So beautiful… Feel so good.”

But his newfound confidence started to crack as he started to get close, his grunts and groans becoming louder and more drawn out, lost in the feeling as you blissfully moved to a faster pace. Tugging at his hair once more to watch him keen.  

When two of Fords thick fingers reached down to circle your clit, you faltered.

“Please, please cum. Please, honey. N-need to, ah, need to feel it!”

Ford bit down just above your clavicle, brow resting against your shoulder as he devoured you once again. Your eyes were starting to roll back as you held onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into soft flesh, hearing him groan in response. Tightening around his cock, each thrust of his hips hitting that delicious spot within you. Tipping right on the edge, you didn’t want this to end, trembling as you felt Ford drag his tongue over the new bite.

“So beautiful and mine. All mine.” He groaned, looking at you slack jawed, chin shiny with spit and cum. “Mine.”  

The words went straight to your core and you came, back arching as you let the waves crash through you, bringing Ford over the edge by the rocking your hips. He held you close as you rode it out together, murmuring softly.

Although you had no idea what he said, head feeling fuzzy as he released you. You caught your breath and slid off of the counter, but your legs felt unsteady.

Ford called your name. “You alright?”

You wanted to reassure him, but you felt dead on your feet, head slumping against his chest.

He cursed under his breath. “Ah, I-I’m sorry! Sorry, there,” Ford quickly scooped you up, over his shoulder. “I’ve got you, darling.”

Post fic A/N: I had Ford as the narrator for most of it, cause I thought it was an interesting perspective, because even in his thoughts he's in denial ^^' so he's a little unrealiable on what his feelings to the reader are, so I thought people would be able to fill in the gaps where its obviously been a mutual pining situation! (disrupted by vampirism hahaha)

[bucksangel]

Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

-

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

[bambisworlds]

the winter soldier's weakness

bucky and y/n have been free from Hydra for two years, trying to make a life of their own. but that becomes a struggle when bucky is framed for a bombing (3,036 word count)

*I might make this into a series :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

both bucky and user are victims of hydra, violence, husband!bucky, telekinetic!reader, telepathic!reader, established relationship, PTSD struggles, brief mention of sexual assault, kidnapping, psychological and physical torture, angst, let me know if i forgot anything x

my masterlist

Bucky and Y/n have been free from Hydra for nearly two years and are beginning to build their own lives. When Hydra took Bucky in the 1940s, they couldn't get him to break in the way they wanted. They weren't able to remove his humanity entirely. No matter how often they wiped his mind, Bucky never forgot his wife. His mind clung to her memory, and they knew they couldn't control him without her.

Growing up, Steve, Bucky, and Y/n were a trio—best friends. They were inseparable. But as time passed and they got older, Bucky and Y/n's friendship became romantic. Bucky and Y/n married shortly before Bucky was sent off to war.

Hydra kidnapped Y/n from her and Bucky's home in Brooklyn and began running experiments on her shortly after Bucky was brought into their containment. She developed similar abilities as Wanda Maximoff, but her power was inconsequential compared to what Wanda would come to be. Nevertheless, they used Y/n as a bargaining chip to get The Winter Soldier to cooperate; they made her his partner on his missions. Or, they would threaten to kill her if he didn't complete the missions he was sent on. Even in the dark ocean that was The Winter Soldier's mind, his subconscious still clung to his love for Y/n.

Y/n never became a hardened killer like Bucky; she, too, clung to her humanity. But she knew if she refused to complete her orders, she would be tortured or killed. Or worse, they would torture Bucky to punish her.

Y/n had been sent with Bucky when instructed to kill Steve Rogers and prevent him from stopping the Heli carrier launch. So, when all was said and done, Bucky dragged Steve and Y/n from the river. He left Steve behind but scooped Y/n up in his arms and set off with her. However, Steve doesn't know that the woman with Bucky is Y/n because she wears a mask like Bucky.

Ever since, the two have been trying to put the pieces of their new life together while overcoming their PTSD and mind control. They wanted to start over and be good people. The longer they went without getting their minds wiped, the more memories from their life together in the 1940s came back. All they wanted was to live a semi-normal life as husband and wife and leave their life with Hydra behind them.

Y/n and Bucky were having a typical day, or their version of normal, when they saw an article in the newspaper saying Bucky had bombed a building in Vienna. The two of them quickly returned to their apartment, preparing to flee and find somewhere off the grid to live, when Bucky stopped midstep, gripping Y/n's arm as his eyes landed on Steve Rogers, who stood in the middle of their apartment.

Steve turned to look at the two of them, and he flinched at the sight of Y/n, who was positioned protectively behind Bucky. "You're..." Steve muttered to himself as he looked at Y/n, blinking rapidly as if she would disappear. "You're alive." He gaped, and Y/n shifted on her feet nervously. "When I came out of the ice, I looked for you... they said you died of natural causes in 1998. But you're..." He swallowed roughly, trying to decipher if she even remembered him or if Bucky did, for that matter.

"Do you know me?" Steve asked the two of them. Bucky swallowed roughly, nudging Y/n further behind him. He wasn't sure of Steve's intentions. The last thing the two of them wanted was to be drug off to some facility and get their minds picked apart by doctors. Bucky would rather die than let Y/n be subjected to another form of captivity. She was struggling immensely with her PTSD, maybe more so than Bucky, and he refused to put her in a distressing environment like a psychiatric facility where the two of them would be separated. All they knew was each other.

"You're Steve. I read about you in a museum," Bucky says flatly, his metal hand resting possessively over Y/n's abdomen to keep her behind him.

"Is that all you know about me? What you read in the museum?" Steve asks, his voice trembling slightly as he looks between them. Y/n looked up at Bucky anxiously as they heard a voice say, 'They set the perimeter' in Steve's earpiece. An average person wouldn't have been able to catch it, but they both had enhanced hearing.

He's come to take us away. Y/n said telepathically to Bucky, jumping to conclusions. He's distracting us so they can trap us.

"The bombing... we didn't do it," Bucky says cautiously, his hand still blocking Y/n from moving closer to Steve.

"The people who think you did are coming here now, and they're not planning on taking you alive," Steve warns, and Bucky bristles.

"Nobody's laying a finger on her," Bucky says lowly, and Y/n shifts on her feet anxiously as she hears people outside their apartment.

Steve scrambles for something to say as the authorities surround the apartment, "You pulled me from the river, why?" he demands. Bucky ignores him, pulling Y/n against him in a protective gesture.

"We're getting out of here," Bucky mutters quietly to her, and she nods. Using her telekinetic abilities, she pulls her and Bucky's emergency bags across the room and into their hands. Bucky quickly puts on his backpack, and so does Y/n.

Y/n gasps, and Bucky cradles her head with his hands as two grenades get thrown through the window, but Steve quickly covers the grenades with his shield, stopping the blow.

Officers and agents begin to breach the apartment. Driven by pure instinct, Y/n begins to fling the men out of their way as Bucky leads her out, using his strength to force the men out of their path. "Stay behind me, baby," Bucky calls over his shoulder as he punches one of the men into the wall. Y/n glances back, catching a glimpse of Steve fighting off the men in her and Bucky's apartment.

Y/n takes Bucky's hand and uses her telekinetic powers to propel them flyingly down the many flights of stairs. Once they land on solid ground, Bucky takes her hand and hastily leads her towards the exit, punching his way through the row of men while Y/n shoves any other lingering threats out of the way with her powers.

The minute they step out of the apartment building, they're surrounded by hundreds of men with large guns and a helicopter hovering over them. In the middle of the wall of men was T'Challa. Bucky comes to a halt, Y/n bumping into his back. He spins around, grabbing Y/n's wrist to take her with him as he attempts to escape through the building, but Steve is blocking his way.

"If you fight it, you'll only make it worse," Steve tries to reason. Bucky's breathing was erratic, driven by the desire to keep Y/n out of harm's way. Y/n looked around at the people surrounding them, holding onto Bucky's jacket tightly.

"She's my wife, Steve," Bucky pleads with him, hoping he'll somehow give them a way to escape.

The agents close in on them, knocking Bucky and Y/n to their knees as they cuff them. The officers had unique cuffs designed to remove Y/n's mutant abilities so she couldn't use mind control on the men. She nearly fell forward once the cuffs were secure, growing weak from the debilitating handcuffs.

"Buck..." she mutters weakly.

"Take those cuffs off of her!" Bucky demands, fighting against the officers who were trying to subdue him. Hydra often used similar cuffs on Y/n so she couldn't escape, so he knew how weak they made her. Not to mention, they were a PTSD trigger for her.

"It's for our protection until you're both evaluated," one of the officers insists as they yank Y/n to her feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. Her breathing grows shallow as she realizes she cannot defend herself, panic brewing in her gut.

Seeing Y/n's distress, Bucky fights harder against the men as they restrain him. Bucky grunts angrily, realizing he can't fight off all these men, "I'm right here, doll. Just breathe, baby," Bucky calls to her, his voice shaking with barely contained rage, "You don't need to use those fucking cuffs on her," Bucky growls as they pull him to his feet.

"She's unstable. We can't risk her using her abilities on us," one of the men says as they start shoving Y/n and Bucky toward the transportation vehicles, tugging Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson behind them. Silent tears began to stream down Y/n's face as she tried to look over her shoulder at Bucky.

"I know, baby," Bucky said as he caught a glimpse of her face. "I'm right here, it's gonna be okay," he said, his voice tinged with desperation.

She nods slightly as she's shoved into the vehicle. She could see Steve, Sam, and T'Challa being put into a van behind theirs out of the corner of her eye.

The officers force Y/n and Bucky into the vehicle, strapping them into restraints so they could hardly move. Y/n's breathing was erratic, and her body trembled as they finished strapping her in. Hydra agents used to strap her down to partially keep her from escaping but also so she couldn't move when they did vile things to her.

They strapped Bucky into the seat opposite hers so they were facing each other. "Please, " Y/n whispered to herself, unsure of what she'd be pleading for.

Bucky's eyes bore into her face, "I'm right here with you, doll. I'm right here. Nothing's gonna happen while I'm here," he promised, his body trembling with the urge to touch her.

"I don't like this," Y/n says, her voice trembling. Bucky grimaced from her sob, the sound cutting through him like a knife.

"I know, but we're gonna be alright. We have each other. That's all we need," Bucky says to reassure her and himself. He knew he had to try to keep her calm.

"I heard them say they're going to separate us when we get there," she says shakily, "They're scared I'll influence your answers when they evaluate us."

When they arrived at the facility, the two were separated. Y/n was put in an office with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Y/n sat at the table in the office, tapping her foot anxiously. She hasn't been away from Bucky for at least 70 years. Even when they were trapped in Hydra's facilities, they were still together.

"What happened? How are you alive?" Steve asks Y/n.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asks rhetorically as she watches the footage of Bucky getting evaluated.

"I'm sorry," Steve says earnestly. Y/n glances away from the screen, nodding in acknowledgment at Steve, before focusing back on the video of Bucky, "How did you end up with Hydra?" Steve asks cautiously.

Y/n sighs, fiddling with the cheap wedding band on her finger. She and Bucky got them not too long ago since they couldn't afford wedding rings. Hydra took their real ones away in the 40s, "After Bucky was subjected to all of the experiments, he became the perfect weapon. The only problem was he wouldn't obey them; even with his mind wiped, he kept trying to break free from where he was kept. To get to me," she says, "I guess they thought he would listen to them if I was under their control. So, they took me. The rest is history." she explains, looking back at the screen.

"Here's a receipt for your gear," Sharon Carter says as she enters the office, handing a paper to Sam.

"Bird costume? Come on," Sam scoffs.

"I didn't write it," Sharon says as she subtly turns the audio to the video on so they can hear. Y/n had tried to turn it on with her abilities, but the cuffs were still firmly placed on her wrists so that she couldn't access her powers. She was defenseless without them. She wasn't a skilled fighter like Bucky and didn't have super strength, either.

Y/n perks up in her seat as the audio comes through, "I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" the interviewer asks, only to be meant with silence, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky," Bucky says weakly. Y/n fidgets in her seat. She wants to be with him and help him. She watches the screen intently, reading his every microexpression as Steve talks with Sharon and Sam.

"Why would Task Force release this photo to begin with?" Steve asks.

"Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?" Sharon suggests.

"Right. It's a good way to flush two people out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. You get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier." Steve says.

"He didn't bomb anything," Y/n says defensively.

"So, someone framed him to find him?" she asks.

"We looked for Bucky for two years and found nothing," Sam adds.

"We didn't bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads," Steve quips.

"Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would," Sharon says, and their heads turn toward the screen.

"You need to take these off me," Y/n begs Sharon as she rises from her seat, holding her wrists before her, "If Bucky turns into... him... I'll need to use my powers."

"I can't do that," Sharon says seconds before the building lights go off. Everyone freezes.

"Take them off!" Y/n demands shakily. Sharon sighs and types a code onto the cuffs, making them pop open. The minute the cuffs are off, Y/n's mind searches the facility for Bucky in an attempt to locate him. She knew he would be racked with guilt if he accidentally hurt someone. She wanted to stop that from happening.

"Sub-level five, East Wing," Sharon says, and Y/n immediately takes off in that direction. Steve and Sam are hot on her trail. While she runs through the halls and down flights of stairs, she tries to reach out to Bucky with her mind, but she's met with a mental wall. He wasn't Bucky anymore.

"I need to find him," Y/n says frantically as she rounds a corner, Steve and Sam trailing behind her, "And you can't be there when I do," she says firmly. Y/n stops in her tracks as she spots the interviewer lying on the floor, weakly asking for help. Rage boils up in her stomach, and she launches him up with her powers, yanking him over until he is hovering in front of her. He gasped for air, her powers cutting off his oxygen supply, "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Y/n, stop," Steve tries to reason, but he's thrown into the wall by The Winter Soldier. Y/n immediately drops the interviewer onto the floor with a thud and whirls around to face Bucky.

"Солдат! (soldier)," Y/n addressed Bucky. He froze at the sound of her voice, releasing Steve as he slowly turned to face her, "Он не наш враг. (he's not our enemy)," she said gently, approaching him cautiously.

"Y/n," Bucky mutters, standing like a statue as Y/n walks over to him.

She smiles softly, holding her hands up in a submissive gesture, "Ты знаешь, я бы никогда не причинил тебе вреда (you know I would never hurt you)," she says softly as she carefully takes one of his hands in hers, "Моя задача защитить тебя, а ты защитить меня (it's my task to protect you, and for you to protect me)," she says as she interlinks their fingers. Steve rose to his feet slowly, watching anxiously. Bucky's head snaps in Steve's direction, his hands quickly grabbing Y/n to yank her behind him.

"Нет, нет! Он не угроза (no, no! he's not a threat)," Y/n says quickly, tugging on the back of Bucky's shirt.

"Steve Rogers враг Гидры, угроза для вас (Steve Rogers is an enemy to Hydra, a threat to you)," Bucky says, his voice void of emotion.

"Нет (no)," Y/n says softly but firmly, turning Bucky to look at her, "Он твой друг (he's your friend)," she insists. Bucky's eyes scan over her face with an almost medical-grade sense. Y/n smiles softly, thinking he's understanding, until he lifts her and throws her over his shoulder. She yelps in surprise; Bucky punches Steve with his free arm, knocking him to the ground, "Bucky, stop!" Y/n says, fighting against his grip.

Bucky forces his way out of the building, holding Y/n firmly over his shoulder. In a moment of desperation, Y/n slips into Bucky's mind. She floods his thoughts with memories of them as children and teenagers, some including Steve, then memories of them together in Bucharest. Bucky stumbles slightly, still holding onto Y/n firmly.

Bucky shudders, letting out a shaky breath as he loosens his grip on Y/n so she can stand again. Bucky blinks rapidly as if he's trying to decipher what's real.

"It's okay," Y/n says gently, reaching up to rest her hand on the side of his face but he grabs her wrist roughly. His eyes snap to her face, and he lets out a puff of air. He realizes it's only her, and he releases her wrist. "You're safe," she says softly, resting her hand on his face.

"We're not safe as long as we're here," Bucky says gruffly, glancing around the building. Y/n lets out a shaky breath, rubbing the side of his face with her thumb, "I don't want to be a weapon anymore," he says with a tremble in his voice, "I want to live a life. With you," he swallows roughly.

Y/n smiles and stands on her tiptoes to rest her forehead against his, "We can live whatever life we want." she whispers. Bucky shuts his eyes, exhaling shakily.

Steve approaches the two of them cautiously, clutching his side from the harsh blow he received when Bucky knocked him to the ground, "I can help you," he says shakily, "I can help you hide. Please."

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[dexlexia]

lunch break - garp x reader

pairing: monkey d. garp x reader rating: 18+ summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You joined the Marines to fight against pirates! You were supposed to make it to the top ranks and be the best in the field. To protect the seas and the islands in them. But then you met Monkey D. Garp. tags: pwp, pregnant!reader, desk/office sex, gentle sex, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, GDILF!garp, former marine reader, husband and wife

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You joined the Marines to fight against pirates! You were supposed to make it to the top ranks and be the best in the field. To protect the seas and the islands in them. But then you met Monkey D. Garp. 

The man was old enough to be your grandfather and here you were, walking through the base with lunch in hand. Garp had told you to stay home and he'd find another way to eat. He didn't want you leaving the home you shared just to bring him some lunch. But you told him that the exercise was good, especially good for the baby. 

He sighed and told you not to take any detours, it didn't matter if an old woman needed to get something off a shelf or there was a kicked puppy. You were to go to the base, see him then go home. He didn't want to take chances with his pregnant wife. 

So the whole Marine thing didn't work out, it only took a year in the service and a few too many occasions of unprotected sex before you made a nice home for yourself. But you were happy, sure the age gap was a bit to wince at but you were an adult. You could make your own choices, and the vice admiral made you very happy. 

You were let into the base, most could recognize you by now. You were six months along now, and around lunchtime your baby knew that it was time to stretch so as you made it through the halls of the base, you had to rest against walls or sit on ledges and stools to take a small break. Garp was happy that his boy was active, it would mean that he'd be a good Marine. 

You corrected him and told him it was his *daughter* who was active, and he didn't have a good track record of his family becoming Marines.

Eventually you made it all the way to his office and rubbed your lower back. A sharp kick in the ribs made you exhale deeply. You patted your belly, ”Calm down you.“ Before you knocked on the door. 

Garp told you to come in and he was delighted when he saw you. He got up from his chair quickly and went over to you. He even took off his jacket to cover your bare shoulders, ”You're going to catch a cold.“ He said, he took the wrapped lunch and shepherd you to the desk where he placed the homemade meal. 

  ”It's warm out today.“ You tried to argue, but he was stubborn. Instead he leaned down and kissed you on the cheek and rested a large hand on your belly. The doctor on the island said that the baby might be the largest born in a long time. 

  ”Still. If you get sick, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.“ He pulled away and grabbed you a chair to sit down on. He then guided you to sit down, he eyed your belly and smiled. Not much longer now. 

He grabbed another chair and sat it across from you. ”How is he?“

  ”She's doing fine, she knows I was coming to see you.“ You relaxed a bit in the chair to get the pressure off your back, ”Come feel.“ You pulled your shirt up a bit to expose your belly and reached over to grab his hand, ”She needs to know who her daddy is.“ When he touched your skin, your heart skipped a beat. 

Garp smiled, the kind of smile that reached those beautiful eyes. He rubbed your warmed skin, ”Are you being good to mama?“ He asked, ”Not causing her any trouble?“ He was hoping to fully retire by the time your child was born, then he could stay home and keep up with his child and younger wife. He wasn't too sure how much time he had left, he was getting older. 

  ”She's doing great, she's got quite the kick.“ You chuckled and placed a hand over his. Call it hormones but the way he was being so attentive was a bit of a turn on. It made you feel warm all over as he felt for the child you made together. A piece of your love. 

You got up from the chair and kept his hand on your exposed belly as you went to sit in his lap.You felt your heart hammer in your chest like it was your first love. 

  ”My beautiful wife.“ He said softly as he kissed at your temple. Soon both large hands were roaming your belly, ”Giving me strong babies.“ He felt so warm towards you. You placed your hands over his and turned your head to face him. 

  ”You made me this way, I wouldn't want children with anyone else.“ Then kissed him on the lips. What started out as a soft couple's kiss turned into something more heated. Soon you felt something hard against your back. 

  ”Good, because after this one I think we should give him a sibling. Maybe two.“ He pulled you in for another kiss as one hand dipped between your legs. The other remained on your belly for support. He undid the button of your pants and pulled down past your swollen middle. 

  ”How about our own Marine force?“ You giggled as you felt your face grow hot. His thumb played with your clit and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. You felt so small compared to him, he was a large man after all. 

  ”I'd be happy with that.“ He rubbed your swollen middle. He whispered in your ear, ”We have about twenty minutes before the cadets finish lunch. Or we can wait till I get home. What's my wife thinking of doing?” His voice was hot and it warmed your core. 

You smiled at him, “I'd let my husband take me in front of every cadet at the base, it's already evident that you and I have a lot of fun in the bedroom.”

  “That's my girl.” He grinned before he leaned in for one last kiss. His thumb still played with your clit over your panties. When he pulled away he said, ”I'll help you on to the desk.“ Then watched you get up and off his lap.

With some support from the desk, you got your pants and underwear off. Your sandals found their way next to them as you tried to get yourself onto the desk. But the size you were now, it made it hard to do that. So Garp had to hoist you up. 

He looked down at you, ”If it hurts, let me know.“ he rubbed the top of your head, ”I don't need you to be in more pain.“ Then get between your legs. He carefully undid his pants. His cock was threatening to break the seams of his underwear as he exposed it to you. 

You licked your lips, his cock was impressive. A slight curve, and thick. When you two first started to have sex, it was a struggle getting it to fit. You spent hours in Garp's room as he pleasured you in other ways to get you relaxed enough to make it fit. 

You were certain that if you were an outsider looking in, you'd wonder how he fit into you. Something so big fitting into something so small.

He leaned down to kiss you once more while he held onto your left thigh with one hand and rubbed his hardened cock against your wet pussy with his other hand. He groaned into the kiss, just the smallest taste of what he wanted. The pussy he bred happily.

Sure you weren't a Marine anymore, but you did your service by making sure that your husband got pleasure. You held onto the edge of the desk with one hand and held onto your exposed belly with the other. This felt more fulfilling than active duty. 

  ”Ready?“ He asked.

You nodded, you knew it was going to hurt a little but for your husband it was worth it. To feel that connected to him in a way that no one else on the island could. with him. You gripped onto the desk tightly and scrunched up your face as he slowly pushed into you. 

You told yourself to relax and he was able to get every last inch inside. Now you felt extra full. You leaned back a little and he helped you lie on the desk, he moved things out of the way. You held onto his wrists where his hands were on your thighs as leverage for his thrusts. 

  ”You're beautiful.“ He admired as he slowly thrusted. Your body moved gently against the wood of the table. He didn't want to tear or bruise anything. So he was going to be gentle with you. After all, you were in a fragile state. 

You chuckle softly, ”Just wait until I'm screaming my head off in three months.“ You moved one hand away and rubbed your middle as he kept a consistent pace. You felt warm all over, this was the man you married. The one who changed your whole path for the better. 

  ”And I'll still love you then. You can be mad at me all you want, as long as you and the baby are safe at the end.“ He reached and rubbed your bump too, ”I'll be there the whole way.“ His pace moved marginally faster and your stomach did a flip from the rush of pleasure. 

You moaned, “Garp!” You felt the pressure build up in your gut which only increased when he started to pick up the pace. You held onto your belly and his wrist for support as he thrusted up into you. You could tell he was watching every expression on your face as he moved in and out. 

Your back arched slightly when he hit a good spot and he leaned down to seal you into a kiss so you didn't make too much noise. You were married but he'd never live it down if someone caught the two of you making love in his office. 

You felt his white facial hair tickle your face as he continued to move inside of you. His thrusts were gentle and caring, you knew he could be dominating and rough but in the state you were in, the last thing on his mind was to hurt you. 

It felt almost romantic if it weren't for the fact it was being done in his office. The office he saw people almost every day, where he conducted his business. 

You made a small moaning noise into the kiss and he said “Shh, shh, shh. Let me make you feel good.” His voice was quiet as he continued to thrust up into you. He held onto you as he moved, his heart raced with every hard thrust. “You're perfect.“ He said.

  “Thank you, Garp.“ You replied with his lips so close to yours. The two of you kissed once more and the pleasure was building up. You didn't have much time and you didn't want to go home unsatisfied. 

You rolled your hips alongside him as he kept kissing you. Both of his hands were on your hips down as he thrusted against you. The feeling was amazing, you loved how you felt under him. 

He continued his movements as the feeling of pleasure took over. He moved a bit faster for the last few strokes and with one more jab against your sweet spot, you both climaxed at the same time. He pulled you into a searing kiss to keep both of your quiet as he finished inside of you, which left your insides all sticky. 

You held onto his tightly as you climaxed and then relaxed, out of breath onto the desk. Garp pulled out and rubbed your swollen middle, “That's a good mama, making her husband feel good.” 

Cum dripped out of you and onto the floor. Which he quickly cleaned up with a handkerchief in his pocket. He leaned down and kissed your belly, “Alright, mama, let's get you dressed and sent back home. You have to rest.' He smiled before he grabbed your bottoms from the floor.

As you laid in euphoric bliss, you couldn't have been happier. You may have failed as a Marine but you were very good at being a housewife. 

[idksomethinggay]

Okay hear me out: Bruce gets lost in time/dies but 1) it’s 2+ years and 2) the whole batfam except Jason and Dick are underage.

So Dick becomes a father of five overnight. Cass is turning 18 soon. Tim and Steph are 17. Duke is 15 and Damien is 11.

Bruce comes back 3 years later. Dick has officially adopted all of them. He is particularly close with Steph, Duke and Damien. They are all took the name “Wayne-Grayson” (some still have their old last names too). Damien is 14 and is about to start an art program in high school. Duke is applying for colleges. Tim started working for WE straight out of high school. When he was 19 he took over from Dick as CEO. Steph has already finished pre-med and is applying for Med school. Cass spends most of her time travelling the world taking down trafficking rings. Since Tim handles most of the day to day at WE, Dick focuses on charity work. Him and Jason have created shelters (safe ones), job training, free education programs (to get high school diploma + scholarship for university). They have managed to pretty much end homelessness in Gotham. They have expanded the program to 30 cities across America and have spoken at a UN conference on Homelessness, explaining how to set up similar programs (and providing funding).

Bruce comes backs. He is sad he missed 3 years with his kids but could not be prouder. He doesn’t want to undermine the relationships Dick has built. He does everything he can to be in his kids life without pushing Dick out or undermining his authority. Dick hates being Batman, so Bruce is happy to take the role back. Dick becomes Nightwing but Robin is still by his side most nights. He attends all of Duke’s and Damien’s school events (introducing himself as their grandpa). When he feels ready to return to work he does so as CFO (leaving Tim in charge) but also telling him that he needs time to himself to. He makes sure Tim doesn’t feel like WE is 100% on his shoulder.

Bruce visits his parents’ grave. “I left as Batman, mentor to some, father to none. Now I’ve come home as a father of two and grandfather of 5. You should see all they have done. Steph is going to be a doctor like you dad. I wish you were here to see them. You would be proud. I hope I can be half the father Dick has become.”

Dick overhears and sobs that night. Bruce becomes a better parent/grandparent. The batfam work to make the world a better place in and out of costume.

[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale VIII

Chapter Eight

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn, blood

Words: 8k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. I'm backkkkk. Hope you enjoy x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

February 6th, 2005

Camila’s Sunday had been a fairly uneventful day, having spent the majority of it on the couch with her mother. The two had spent their afternoon watching some of the movies they had recently unpacked from the move. Camila had been happy to spend some much needed quality time with her mother and even happier to spend that time avoiding the topic that had been weighing on the family heavily for the past week. In reality, she didn’t actually know how many more good days with her mother she was going to get by the end of all of this, and she wanted to cherish whatever time she had left. 

Her mother had just popped in the second tape for the movie Titanic when her father arrived home, arms full with two large pizza boxes as he dropped his things by the door. Camila’s face blossomed into a bright smile. Regardless of her dwindling appetite, pizza would always be her favorite and she couldn’t have thought of a more ideal evening with her parents. So the family sat together, watching as the movie’s plot took a rather unfortunate turn for disaster, eating their greasy pizza off of paper plates. 

Of course, in the end, as it always happened, no matter how much Camila had hoped for a different outcome, the lovely Jack Dawson had frozen to death holding the hand of his lover and she was left to wonder if she would end up leaving Jasper in a similar state of despair when her time was up. Deep down she knew that his offer of eternity in his arms was growing more and more tempting and the likelihood of her ever leaving his side was dwindling as the days passed by. Her feelings for him were growing day by day as well and she was well past the point of no return she feared. 

Being in love was a scary and vulnerable thing as it was, but given everything else about her situation, it was nothing less than terrifying, albeit a good kind of terrifying. Her thoughts had become an endless cycle of him, and she knew she was done for. The idea of being in love so quickly would’ve made her scoff and roll her eyes previously, but now that she found herself very much in love with Jasper, she knew that what she had once thought was impossible was the truth. 

The feelings she held in her heart for Jasper triumphed any idea of love she had previously held. She had never been one to believe in the foolish idea of love at first sight, but as she looked back at the moment she had met him she couldn’t imagine anything closer to describe it as. She knew that if she already felt this strongly for him, that her feelings would only grow to an incomprehensible intensity with time.

It was after the sun had set when he had come knocking on her window, giving the glass a light tap with his knuckles as a warning before he entered through the opening into her bedroom. She had given him a small tired smile, gesturing for him to join her on the bed. He moved forward, sinking into his usual spot as she took hers with her head on his chest, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

“How was the game?” She asked, bringing her hand up to lay on the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

Jasper smiled, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “It was good, Patriots won.” He said simply, knowing she was just being polite in asking, having no interest in the game herself. 

In all truth, he hadn’t spent much of his time actually paying attention to the sport, his thoughts being rather caught up on the girl who was currently curled up against him. He tried his best to show interest as he knew that Emmet had been looking forward to it, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed at his past self for promising to spend the day away from Camila. Of course, at the time he had no idea that he would be missing school the two days that followed, which had definitely added to the torture. Torture that was given brief recesses by his nightly visits. 

“That’s good, I’m glad you enjoyed it…” She said, trailing off into a yawn, covering her mouth with her palm. “I’m sorry, I promise you’re not boring me, I’m just so exhausted.” She explained, slightly disappointed in herself as she had been looking forward to seeing him all day and knew that his presence would be missed at school the next morning. 

He sighed, running his fingers delicately along her spine, raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin. “You don’t need to apologize Darlin’, sleep.” He said, laying a kiss on her head as he breathed in the comforting scent of her. 

“You won’t be bored?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she attempted to fight the sleep off. 

Jasper smiled lightly. “Is it creepy if I said that I actually enjoy watching you sleep?” He asked, arching a curious brow at her. 

Camila snickered softly. “A little bit.” She admitted cheekily. 

Jasper’s chest shook with a slight chuckle at her bluntness. “I can’t help it, you just look so peaceful.” He explained, giving her a bright smile, teeth shining in the moonlight. 

Camila lifted her head slightly, getting a better look of the beautiful smile he had been graciously sharing with her. “Do you ever miss being able to sleep?” She asked, curiosity coursing through her. 

He looked up in though for a moment, eyes coming back, meeting her own as he gave his answer. “Sometimes. It’s been so long, so I don’t really know what I’m missing out on I suppose.” He admitted, his cool fingers lifting to brush the hair from her face. He leaned forwards slightly, pressing his lips lightly to hers in a soft kiss, breaking away with a grin as he listened to her heart rate pick up from the touch. “Stop stalling, sleep.” He urged. 

Camila groaned, rolling her eyes playfully as she lowered her head back to his chest. “Fine.” She muttered, letting her eyes flutter closed. 

Jasper’s eyes lingered on her sleeping frame as he concentrated on the beating of her heart. Her tank top hung loosely on her frail shoulders, her chest slowly rising and falling as she sucked in the deep breaths of sleep. 

The burn in his throat persisted, Camila’s parents’ blood pumping heavily through their veins in such close proximity. Although he knew that his thirst hadn’t wavered, being so near the humans had grown easier to manage over time. Easier to let his mind wander on thoughts of Camila rather than thoughts of bloodlust. It was times like these that he missed being able to sleep, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and be able to dream of her. 

So, instead he spent this time day dreaming of her. Day dreaming of the future they may one day have with each other. Thoughts of being able to not only drape his arm around her body, but truly hold her. He knew that he was getting carried away, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it that when he pictured his future, she was always there at his side, or rather she was there in the forefront, his future itself.

——————

February 7th, 2005

Camila awoke in the morning to her mother gently shaking her. Vaguely, she remembered, a half asleep goodbye from Jasper, followed by a soft peck to her forehead that must have happened only minutes before. A frown settled on her face, not yet mentally prepared to face the day without her favorite person by her side. She knew she would see him later, that much he had assured her, but that didn’t stop her from dreading spending the next two school days without him in attendance. 

She was however, looking forward to seeing Angela once more, slightly giddy at the fact that she would be able to tell her that Jasper was now officially her boyfriend. She had refrained from telling her mother of this, knowing that it would only raise questions, besides, her mother knew her too well, and the last thing she really needed was a confirmation. 

So she had begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed and into the shower. The cool stream of water stifled the heat of her skin as the stream ran down her spine. Gravity weighed down on her bones, a deep ache radiating through her body. She would be sure to take her meds today, knowing that the pain would only intensify as the hours went on. Although she hated to rely on the pills, she knew that it was necessary, especially given the fact that Jasper would not be there to help distract her. 

The ride to Forks High School was rather quiet, the air around her and her mother filled with soft crunching of Camila’s protein bar. She forced herself to swallow the unsavory food, knowing that she needed the nutrients, regardless of how much she hated the aftertaste. When the van finally came to a stop in front of the dreary building. She quickly stuffed the remainder of her breakfast in her mouth, grabbing her bottle of water as she mumbled something resembling a goodbye to her mother, giving a quick side hug to the woman. 

The fluorescent lit hallways were filled with cheerful chatter, no doubt a side effect of the irregularly sunny day. The ring of the bell rang shrilly signaling the time for first period, and she was surprisingly happy to sit down in the class. The teacher quickly gave them work to do in pairs and she was thankful to be able to speak to the girl without risking getting in trouble for talking in class. 

“Soooo…” She drew out dramatically, gaining the attention of the girl sitting next to her. Angela looked to her, eyes peering over the rim of her glasses quizzically. “Jasper may or may not officially be my boyfriend now.” She informed, watching as a giant smile formed on the girl’s lips in response. 

“Oh my god. I knew it!” She squealed in delight, teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting. “Tell me more, I’m begging.” She said, dramatically clutching her hands together as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. 

Camila smiled lightly, a bright blush covering her cheeks as she thought of what to tell the girl that wouldn’t give too much away. “I met his parents this weekend.” She said, opting to add Carlisle in on the meeting as she shouldn’t have had any reason to have met him previously.

Angela’s eyes widened dramatically. “Woah, that’s kinda serious, huh?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. 

The heat burned red hot on her face as Camila looked down at the workbook in front of her bashfully. “Kinda, yeah.” She muttered, smile unwavering from her lips. 

“So they’re ridiculously attractive too, right?” Angela asked, nudging the girl’s shoulder. 

Camila snickered lightly. “Of course.” She admitted. 

Angela perked up in her seat. “So, does this mean that he’s going to take you to prom now?” She asked expectantly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Camila’s smile dropped slightly, forcing herself to not let it falter completely. “No.” She said simply, watching as Angela gave an indignant pout. “We already had plans to spend time with each other, and I’m not much of a prom kind of girl I guess.” She explained feebly, hoping the girl would except her answer without much fuss.

Angela sighed disappointedly. “Fine.” She grumbled.

“But don’t worry.” Camila chirped. “I promise to help find the best dress for you.” She said, smiling brightly. Angela’s lips quirked up in answer, happy to hear the words, and conversation quickly changed topic to getting their work done, neither of the two wanting to have to take the work home to do that night instead. 

——————

Jasper’s day had drug on at a ridiculously slow pace, the absence of Camila glaringly obvious as he attempted feebly to read one of the books off of his shelves. His eyes scanned the pages, knowing deep down that it was of no use. He wasn’t actually absorbing any of the information, as his mind was clearly elsewhere. He wondered, as he recalled the time before he had met Camila, which in reality had only been a short time ago, how he had occupied his time like this. It now all seemed so monotonous, the same books over and over again, growing bored quickly of them, regardless of how much he had previously cared for the stories. He knew them all by heart by now and he made a mental note to try and get some new book recommendations later from Camila.

Once again, his mind had quickly returned to thoughts of the girl. Shocker. How was he expected to have to do this whole thing again just a day later. It was already torture enough as it was. At least, he reminded himself, that he would have the night that he would be able to see her, even if it was just to be in her company as she slept. It surprised him that such a thing didn’t bore him, although he did understand the appeal. The feel of her warm skin against his own cool body, the steady beat of her heart in his ears, everything was a reminder that, at least for now, she was alive and with him. While at the moment, being away from her felt like nothing but a waste of their time. 

Jasper looked over to the clock on the wall for what had to be the thousandth time that day. She would be leaving school now, just that much closer to when he would be able to see her. He would have to wait until the sun set of course. His family were supposed to be out of town camping, so he knew he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him, regardless of if he were to be seen in direct sunlight or not. 

It was days like this that made him question the humans in the town’s intelligence, them all seeming to except their rather lousy excuse for missing school fairly easily. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that most people viewed them as outcasts already, but really, what parent would agree to pull their kids out from school just because it happened to be a sunny day? He supposed he should be grateful for their ignorance, but at the moment, all he could do was stare impatiently at the pages of his book, willing time to somehow go by faster. 

After an agonizing wait in which felt like eternity, the sun had finally set, and in a blink of an eye, he had fled the glass house, determined to make this the fastest run of his life. As the small pale yellow house came into view, he felt like he could breath again. In truth, he hadn’t noticed the weight on his chest until it had lifted. Unlike their usual routine, when Jasper rounded the corner, he could see her, sitting at the open window, gazing out at the night sky. When her eyes finally met his own, a small smile spread across her face.

“I got overheated.” She explained, stepping back from the open window to allow him inside. It was the truth, one of the many side effects of her illness had caused her to have hot flashes and she had awoken in a particularly bad one at that, but she would be lying if she had said it was the only reason she had been staring out into the wilderness that night. She hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be for her to miss Jasper’s company that day, having already had a drastically decreased amount of time with him that weekend, and she had been counting down the minutes until sunset. 

Jasper smiled, pulling her into his cool chest, knowing that the temperature difference would help sooth her without the risk of catching a cold from the chilled February night air. Her face nuzzled into the icy fabric of his clothing, sighing as she allowed herself the comfort of his embrace. All too soon, Jasper parted ways, only to shut the window and drag her to her bed to get comfortable, pulling her back into himself. 

“How was school?” He asked, muttering the words into her hair as he rested his head atop hers. 

She groaned out a dramatic sound. “Horrible.” She said bluntly, earning a laugh from the golden haired vampire. 

He rolled his eyes playfully at her words. “It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” He asked. 

Camila lifted her body, coming to a seat next to him as he wrapped his arm securely around her waist. “Yes actually.” She stated matter of factly. She thought for a moment, looking for the right words that wouldn’t make it seem like his absence alone had completely ruined her day. “It was nice to see Angela and Bella, but Tyler wouldn’t leave me alone.” She groaned out. 

Camila had been lucky to avoid Tyler for the most part, but unfortunately, he had of course taken notice of Jasper’s absence and had decided that it was the best time to try and be friends again. Much to her annoyance, he had talked her ear off during lunch and only continued to do so on their way to biology class. All of the talking had created a particularly horrible headache behind her brow and she begged whatever higher power there was that he would shut up for once in his life. 

She internally scolded herself for being continuously friendly to him, but realistically, it wasn’t like she could just turn around and be an ass to him when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong since he had apologized. Unfortunately for herself, she had convinced herself to be as kind as possible to everybody unless given a reason not to be. The reality of it was that she didn’t have the time nor energy to be unkind, something the she was starting to question was showing to be true in this case.

By the time their calculous class came around, she was for once happy to have silence. Although she would have much preferred to have Jasper’s company, she was glad to have peace and quiet for the first time that day. She had never been so thankful that they had assigned seats and Tyler was stuck far away from her, finally giving her space to breath. Her head had continued to pound relentlessly as she counted down the minutes until she would be able to return home, take her meds, and sleep off the migraine. A sleep that she had just recently woken from.

Tyler. The boys name had caused Jasper’s body to stiffen. He knew it wasn’t his right to be bothered by him, but in all truth he couldn’t stand the boy. Maybe it was mostly jealousy, but he had jus rubbed him the wrong way from the beginning. “He wouldn’t shut up, and I’m not trying to be rude, but we aren’t even really friends and he was giving me a headache.” She admitted, a grimace casted on her face. 

Jasper laughed lightly, relieved that the boy hadn’t gone and upset her with his words yet again. “Only one more day, and we’ll be back. I promise to scare him off.” He joked, a smirk unwavering on his lips. 

Camila threw her head back in a groan as she pouted her lips childishly, Jasper desperately wanting to kiss the pout away. “I don’t know if I’ll make it.” She said dramatically.

Jasper leaned forwards, bringing his lips to hers, deciding to not hold back any longer as he gave her a light kiss upon her lips. She smiled into his touch, the playful pout melting instantly as she molded her mouth to his. He pulled away, not allowing the kiss to last too long. He gave her a sheepish smile before speaking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was almost bored to death without you.” He admitted. 

Camila smiled lightly, glad to know that the ‘torture’ was not one sided. One more day and he would be back, she could do it, right? “I’m almost tempted to skip tomorrow.” She admitted. “But I promised Angela that I would go prom dress shopping with her in Port Angeles after school, so I can’t really act sick for half the day very easily.” She continued. 

Jasper quirked an eyebrow at his girlfriend. “Are we going to prom?” He asked confused. He had been sure the event had been off of the table given her physical limitations, but now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she had changed her mind now that they were dating. Maybe it was him who dropped the ball when he hadn’t asked to make sure his theory was correct.

She shook her head. “No, defiantly not. Even if I could go, I don’t think I’d want to. I’d rather just spend time alone with you.” She admitted, allowing Jasper to let out an internal sigh of relief. “I just promised to help her find a dress is all.” She said. 

He nodded his head in understanding, ignoring the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, the idea of her being out in the city without him made a chill go up his spine, even if the reality of it was impossible. Realistically what could go wrong? She would be out with friends and she would be able to sit the majority of the time. Regardless, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something bad happening. “Text me if you need me to pick you up early.” He said, receiving a gracious nod from her in response. 

He tried his best to shake his unease as he sat with her, holding her, and allowing the touch of her blazing skin on his own to calm the racing thoughts in his mind. He changed the subject, remembering to ask for book recommendations as he attempted to steer his mind from the unnecessary panic that refused to leave. 

——————

February 8th, 2005

Camila had never wished more to take her jacket off, the heat of the day causing a sheen of sweet to cover her forehead, despite the temperature not being above seventy. Of course, the entire school had decided to sit outdoors, given the ‘beautiful’ weather, and the long sleeves that she wore were beginning to stick to her skin. She wondered briefly if it was worth it to try and cover the bruises with makeup rather than the extra layer of fabric. 

Her thoughts halted as she realized that this solution would only end up solving one of her two issues. Her bones would still continue to protrude from her muscles, something that was sure to only get worse as she grew sicker and sicker. The last thing she needed was people growing concerned of her health in any way shape or form. 

She shook the thoughts from her head, looking up from the unappetizing food to Bella who was sat opposite on the picnic table. The girl’s eyes wandered around at the crowd of students gathered in the unusual sunny grounds, seemingly anxious about something. “He’s not here.” Jessica spoke from her spot atop the table where she perched soaking in the rays of sunshine. Bella looked up, slightly embarrassed that she had been caught looking for him. “Whenever the weather’s nice, the Cullens disappear.” She explained, eyes closed as her face tilted up towards they sky. 

Bella looked to her, slightly confused. “What, do they just ditch?” She asked curiously.

“No, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen yank them out for, like hiking and camping and stuff.” Jessica explained. Camila hummed, a small smirk forming on her lips. Was this really the excuse they had come up with? It was kind of lame is she was being honest. Very vague at lease, but did she really expect anything else at this point? “I tried that out on my parents. Not even close.” Jessica continued, earning a snicker from Camila.

Angela rushed towards the group, her long brunette hair falling over her shoulders as she settled into a spot next to Bella. “Bella, are you sure you have to go out of town for prom? Camila isn’t going either. It’s going to be lonely without you guys.” She said, giving a dramatic pout. 

Bella grimaced at the question, seemingly just as perturbed as anytime Camila had been asked about the topic. “Oh, yeah, it’s a little family thing.” She explained dismissively. She turned to Camila, arching an eyebrow at the girl. “You’re not going?” She asked, surprised by the fact that she had not been the only one in the small town that hadn’t wished to attend the event. 

“What? Couldn’t find a date?” Jessica asked, attempting to pass the snide remark off as a playful joke. Camila’s face dropped, giving her a slight glare not allowing the girl’s comment to pass without a reaction from her. 

Angela perked up, wanting to defend her new friend. “Actually, her and Jasper are dating, but apparently neither of them wanted to go, so they made other plans.” She said, smiling as she gave Camila a teasing glance, causing a blush to creep up to her cheeks. Of course, anytime anyone mentioned him, she had to blush like a little girl with a crush. Honestly, who was she kidding? She wasn’t any better than that anyway. 

Jessica grimaced at the information, muttering something about Jasper ‘being even more of a weirdo than Alice’, earning an even more intense glare from Camila. “Okay, are we still good to go shopping in Port Angeles? I want to go before all the good dresses get cleaned out.” She asked Angela, deflecting the negative attention from the girl beside her. 

Angela nodded enthusiastically, smiling at Camila as she nodded as well. A shrill bell rang throughout the courtyard, signaling the end of the lunch period. Camila stood, grabbing her lunch tray from the table, attempting to hide how little she had eaten from the greasy array of food with her crumpled up napkin. 

Bella hesitated as the students began to head inside for the next half of classes for the day. “Port Angeles? You mind if I come?” Bella asked.

“Yeah, I need your opinion.” Angela said, grinning widely. Camila sighed, happy that she would have another friend there as a buffer between her and Jessica. It was no secret that the two didn’t like each other. Jessica clearly didn’t like to be talked back to in any sense of the phrase, and Camila wasn’t one to just sit there and take her bullying lightly. The two were bound to butt heads, but luckily she would have Angela and Bella there to lighten the blow of the inevitable disagreements that were to come.

——————

“I like this one, but, like I don’t know about the whole one shoulder thing.” Jessica said, holding the pink spaghetti strap dress in front of her body in the mirror to get a good look at herself. Angela nodded saying something about how the color looked good against her skin. 

Angela held up a dress of her own. “I like this one. What do you think?” She asked Camila expectantly, a bright look in her eye. 

Camila smiles taking in the sight before her, trying her best not to grimace as the headache pounding behind her temple got worse. “Yeah, I like the beading, and you wouldn’t need jewelry.” She argued, giving her best effort in sounding like she was interested and not like she was in a lot of pain. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, a cold sweat covering her forehead. Great, another hot flash, just what she needed.

They had been in the same dress shop from what seemed like hours and had barely gotten anywhere when it came to actually finding dressed for the two girls in front if her. Of course, within that time, her pain meds had completely worn off and the ache in her bones was beginning to rival the pounding in her head.

Angela turned. “Jess, what do you think? Lavender?” She asked the girl, gesturing to dress she was currently wearing. “Is that good? Is that my color?” She continued, fidgeting with the fabric that clung to her body. 

“I like it.” Jessica said quickly. “I like that dusty rose one, too.” She said, turning back to the mirror to admire her own reflection. “Okay, I like this one. It makes my boobs look good.” She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

Knocking on the glass of the window behind her, Camila turned to see a group of four men passing by, all ogling over the girls in the shop before them. “Nice!” One of them yelled, loud enough for the group of girls to hear them through the glass. Camila grimaced lightly at the interaction.

Jessica scoffed, clearly flattered given the wide grin on her face. “That is uncomfortable.” She said, voice trailing off. 

“That’s disgusting.” Bella muttered, looking down at the book in her hands, earning an absent minded nod from Camila. 

Jessica perked up once more. “Bella, what do you think?” She asked. 

Bella looked up, finally giving the two dresses attention as her eyes left the pages of her book. “That looks great.” She said dismissively.

“You said that about, like, the last five dresses, though.” She said, smile dropping slightly as she twirled her hair around her finger. 

Bella smiled bashfully. “I thought they were all pretty good.” She said, laughing lightly. 

Angela looked towards the two girls sitting on the cushioned bench. “You guys aren’t really into this are you?” She asked frowning. 

Camila’s smile dropped, feeling bad that she wasn’t giving Angela the experience she had been looking for. She was trying to sounds enthusiastic, but if she was being honest, she really didn’t care about the dresses at all. All she had wanted was to spend some time with friends outside of school, but now, with the music playing throughout the store, the bright lights, and the hundreds of questions about her opinion of the different dresses they had tried on over the past hour, she was just tired and overstimulated. The pounding of her temples proved that she couldn’t take it much longer. 

“I actually really just want to go to this bookstore.” Bella admitted, giving an apologetic smile. “I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant?” She suggested.

Camila’s ears perked up at this, a perfect excuse to finally leave this god forsaken dress shop. “Do you mind if I come with? I could use some fresh air.” She asked, knowing she would most likely regret it soon, needing to walk to the book shop, but not being able to help herself. If she was being honest, she was almost certain that if she stayed in this shop one more minute her head might explode. Bella nodded, grabbing her coat before leading the way to the door outside. 

Camila let out a sigh of relief as the cool air hit her face, glad to finally be free of the stuffy environment of the shop. Pain ricocheted up her legs as her steps landed on the pavement, attempting to give the pain little thought as she was just glad to have some quiet and cool air on her skin. It frustrated her to no end of course that she was incapable of doing such a simple thing as going shopping with friends, but she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought something like this was likely to happen. She would, however, enjoy it while it lasted, knowing she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to do so for much longer.

It was moments like this that made her happy that Bella was a particularly quiet person, and if she was being honest, she quite enjoyed the girls silent company. Her migraine was finally starting to subside as the small book shop came into view. Camila gave Bella a soft smile as she opted to stay outside in the cool air. She checked behind her, to make sure the girl had entered the shop before tearing the long sleeved zip-up hoodie from her frail arms, letting a sigh of relief leave her lips as the cool wind hit her blazing skin. 

She looked down at the pale skin the stretched loosely across her arms, the area scattered with varying shades of bruises. She knew she would only have a moment of sweet relief before Bella returned, so she closed her eyes and chose to savor the time she had been allowed. Her eyes opened, gazing out at the sunset before her. She hadn’t actually realized how late it had gotten and internally scolded herself for the missed time she would end up having with Jasper that night. 

She sucked in a deep breath, taking note of how her chest tightened uncomfortably. Dr Cullen had warned her of the discomfort that breathing would soon bring, but as prepared as she thought she was, she knew that the inevitable struggle would not be anything she could ever be truly prepared for. She knew that this was just the beginning of how horrible it would end up feeling for her. The reality of dying would one day end up being too much for her to handle. 

She wondered for a moment if taking the opportunity that Jasper had offered when the time came would make her brave or a coward. What in the end would be the easy solution? Dying and leaving him, or living and leaving everyone else she loved? In that moment, she wasn’t sure, but she did know what her heart yearned for. The image of his amber eyes flooded her thoughts, the idea of him alone, calming her unsteady breaths. 

A soft bell jingled behind her, pulling her from her wandering thoughts as she quickly pulled the fabric back up her arms and onto her shoulders. She turned taking in the site of Bella walking towards her holding a small book in her hand. “Ready?” She asked, gesturing with a nod to the road ahead. Camila nodded, giving a small smile as they started the trek back to where the restaurant was.

Their shoes thudded against the sidewalk as they walked in silence, a fog starting to settle in around them. They turned, cutting in between two buildings, taking the same route back that they had taken to get there. Suddenly, it became glaringly obvious the stark difference between the alley during the day and at night, and just as suddenly, Camila felt a chill run up her spine. Not the same chill she would get when Jasper touched her, but an eery chill. 

Stood there on the other side of the ally was the group of men who had passed by at the dress shop, looking much more menacing under the dim glow of the street lights. One of the men had just spotted them and had turned in his tracks to move towards them, the rest of the men following his lead. Camila grabbed Bella’s arm, turning back around before swiftly retracing their steps onto the trail they had just taken. 

They were now in a much bigger clearing, although just as deserted, and Camila chastised her self mentally for letting her pain and jumbled thoughts cloud her judgement. She wasn’t stupid, but god did she feel like she was in that moment. If she had been paying more attention she would’ve noticed the time of day or even the lack of people on their walk to the book store. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the air, the men no doubt following them further into the clearing. “Saw you in the dress store.” One of the men called out loudly. Camila forced her eyes to remain ahead, as if ignoring the men would make them disappear.  

“Hey, where are you running to?” Another yelled. Camila’s heart began to race, hearing the thudding in her ears, breath becoming shallow and quick, her lungs tightening with every gasp for air. 

Blinking rapidly, trying to calm her heart and her mind as the panic set it, three more men came into view on the other end of the lot. “What up? It’s my girls.” One said, his eyes meeting hers as the other three coming in closer. A menacing smirk coated his face as she tired to look anywhere but into his dark terrifying eyes. 

One man from behind called out to another. “How you guys doing? Look who we just found.” 

Camila’s hand tightened around Bella’s arm, attempting to ground herself in the moment and not settle into a full blown panic attack. 

“What’s up, girls?”

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“Come get a drink with us.”

“Yeah, you should hang out with us, come on.”

“It’s fun.”  

“What’s the problem?” “You’re pretty.”

Voices called out around them as the men got closer and closer starting to cage them in and breaking them apart from each other. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. The one time she went out with friends, and this happens? Really? Panic was really starting to set in as her mind began to wander further. It was one thing for this to happen to her, I mean her life was about to end anyway, but Bella too? She had her whole life ahead of her. 

“Don’t touch me.” Bella snapped, pulling her arm from one of the men harshly. 

The voices continued to ramble around them. Sadness bloomed in her chest as reality sunk in. Unless a miracle happened soon, they would likely end up dead by the end of this and despite having thought that she was prepared for death, she couldn’t get Jasper’s face out of her mind. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for the end as she had thought. The thought of leaving Jasper was what hurt the most, leaving a gaping hole in her heart. Maybe she was a coward, maybe not, in that moment she didn’t care. All she cared about was him.

Darkness started to encroach her vision, seeping in from all sides. Her body started to feel heavy, pain shooting up her arm as one of the men grabbed harshly at her, his fingers digging into her flesh. She was certain she would faint soon when all of a sudden, the screeching of tires against the pavement behind her cut through her jumbled thoughts. 

She turned her head feebly, a silver Volvo whipping around the corner, causing the men to jump back. Wait a second. She knew that car. Edward, thank god. She thought, relief flooding her veins. She had been sure that they were goners, destined to end up on some Dateline or CSI episode. 

The car jerked to a stop, Edward popping out of the driver seat, quickly followed by Jasper from the passenger seat. “Get in the car.” Edward instructed Bella. 

Jasper rushed to Camila’s side, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as he allowed her to rest her bodyweight on him, leading her to the back seat of the car. He sat her against the leather seats, pulling back to look her in the eyes. 

Camila took in the view of his face, his hand coming up to brush her cheek gently. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice. She nodded in response, letting out a deep shaky breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Relief flooded through her. She wasn’t going to die tonight. Jasper had saved her. Tears pricked her eyes as she pulled him towards her by the collar of his shirt into her open arms. 

She wrapped them tightly around his neck, breathing in his scent. “Thank you.” She whispered, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to blink back the tears. 

Jasper willed himself to pull away from her grip, pressing his lips to hers fiercely before pulling away quicker than he would have liked as he backed up further onto the pavement. “I’ll be right back, stay here.” He instructed, forcing his eyes to leave hers as he stepped away. 

Jasper stood to his full height, closing the door of the vehicle behind him, turning to look at the group of men before him. White hot anger ripped through his chest as he assessed the men. He wanted to kill them. To rip them to shreds for even thinking about doing anything to her. The truth was, if Edward hadn’t convinced Jasper to come along on a trip to watch over Camila and Bella then they would have gone through with the unspeakable. 

Edward had seen what one of the men was thinking. Had seen that he had done this sort of thing to other women before. Had seen that he would do it again given the chance. Jasper squared his shoulders pushing his power out from himself. Pushing fear into the minds of the men before him. Unspeakable fear that would never leave them, never completely. A waking nightmare that would terrify them to their last days, because as much as he wanted to physically hurt them, he knew that he couldn’t. Not with Camila so close and already afraid. This would be the next best thing. This would have to suffice. This would have to tame the beast inside of him.

Their faces morphed into looks of terror and Jasper watched, only slightly satisfied as he watched them scramble away as quickly as their feet would take them. Wishing that he could’ve somehow inflicted more terror on the men.

Jasper turned back to the car, rushing to get inside as Edward closed the driver side door. He joined Camila in the back seat, pulling her towards him and wrapping her into his grasp as Edward sped away from the scene. Camila shook in his arms, the reality of everything that had just happened lingering in the air around them. Vaguely, Jasper could hear the voices of Edward and Bella in the front of the vehicle, although he paid them no mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was Camila. 

He had known deep down that something would happen, he didn’t however think it would have ever been something like this. Something like a group of revolting men attempting to take her away from him. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of it, the idea infuriating him to no end. 

But what enraged him the most was the terror radiating off of Camila. The terror that those vile men inflicted on her. He realized that it was slightly hypocritical to think of these men as monsters while he sat there, knowing of his own past, knowing of the blood on his hands, but he knew he would never even think of doing such a thing to a woman. 

The fact that these men had been about to do such unspeakable things to anyone was bad enough, but to her? The fire in his chest burned hotter as he imagined what he would’ve done to the men had it not been for Camila’s presence. Vivid images overtook his mind. Ripping. Tearing. Blood. Mangled bodies littering the ground. For a moment, he imagined indulging himself on that blood, feasting on the terrible men and for the first time in so long, truly satisfying his eternal thirst. 

“Jasper.” Edward hissed through his teeth. Jasper’s eyes shot up to meet his brother’s in the rear view mirror, seeing his seething glare. He realized in that moment that his vivid mental imagery probably wasn’t helping Edward deal with his own fury over the situation. 

Jasper sucked in a breath that his lungs didn’t need. “Sorry.” He muttered in reply, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms. She gave no sign of fright, her expression completely blank as she looked ahead in a daze, but her body continued to shake ever so slightly. Jasper felt the fear, radiating outwards from her and focused his power on trying to sooth her. Her body relaxed in his arms, letting out a sigh as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the musky scent of him. 

“Thank you.” She muttered into his skin. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was thanking him for, whether it be saving her, or helping calm her down, or both even, but she thanked him nonetheless. Regardless of its’ origin, she needed her gratitude for him to be known. 

Time moved quickly in a blur around her as the car suddenly came to a halt. She looked up, realizing that Edward had parked the car, seeming to have driven to the restaurant that they had planned on meeting Angela and Jessica at. Camila’s eyes flickered up to Jasper’ face in question. “We should get you something to eat.” He said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Her eyes bore into his pleadingly. “Can we please stay in the car? I’ll eat when I get home, promise.” She begged, wanting the privacy that the restaurant would not be able to provide. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to leave his arms, his comforting embrace being one of the only things in that moment keeping her grounded. The security of his strong arms around her made her feel safe, made her feel like she was home. In reality, that is what he had become to her, her home. 

Jasper paused for a moment, contemplating their options before nodding. Bella was sure to have many questions and this was definitely not the time for anything resembling a double date. 

Soon, the two were alone the radio playing softly in the background of their silence. “I’m sorry.” Camila muttered quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Jasper’s head turned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you have to be sorry for?” He asked, grabbing her chin to turn her head to force her eyes to his own. 

She sucked in a shaky breath, “I wasn’t thinking when I left with Bella or I would’ve convinced her to stay with Jessica and Angela. I had headache and needed some fresh air and-“ She rambled on.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He interrupted, having not had the patience to listen to her attempt to punish herself further. “It is not your fault that there are horrible people in the world.” He assured her, resting his forehead on hers. 

Camila closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of Jasper’s skin against her own. She was beyond lucky and she knew it. Lucky that Edward and Jasper were there, listening, paying attention to make sure that Bella and her were safe. She would have thanked him again if it weren’t for his persistence that it wasn’t her fault. Camila knew that it was though, knew that she should have been thinking more clearly, should have been more aware. 

So, instead of thanking him once more verbally, she leaned forward to plant a kiss to his lips. She leaned fervently into the touch, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss as possible, her lips moving in sync with his own. In that moment she knew. Knew that this was the coward’s way out. Choosing Jasper was most definitely the easier of her two options. Living her life with him, grasping at their forever had to be the cowardly choice, because the other option seemed so much more torturous. 

Next Chapter -coming soon

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[delicateflowerss]

Don't Worry, Darling: Eight

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mentions of drugging, choking, vomiting, mentions of murder, dark!Rafe, mentions of a gun, mention of drugs, kook!reader, non-canon ages

Just one more chapter! Excited to be getting near the end, enjoy <3

Word Count: 3k

Series Masterlist

Ice cold fingers dig into the searing heat of your skin. His hold on your neck is tight, making you gasp for air as his hand has the strength to stop you from breathing all together.

You can feel his weight on top of you, more suffocating than him choking you to death. He pushes himself inside you, over and over again. You want to stop him, but it’s impossible for you to use your breath to say anything.

Sandalwood hangs heavy in the air, mixing with his musk. Through the darkness, you can’t make out your assailant.

You want to call out, not only to stop him, but to get help from the first person your mind can think of. The man you still feel instinctively safe with.

Except, the man above you finally speaks. He tries to comfort you, soothing you from how he’s hurting you.

And then you realize that the man raping you and the man you are trying to find refuge in are the same.

You open your mouth to scream but instead you’re ripped from the nightmare, waking up with a gasp on your lips.

You look around your dark bedroom, only to find your husband sleeping soundly beside you.

You stare at him for a moment, the nightmare still floating around in your head.

You’re not sure whether the nightmare was tapping into your fears only located in your subconscious, or if it truly meant something.

It’s been about a week since you found out you’re pregnant. The news turned your world upside down. After you left the doctor’s office, you just sat in your car awhile, not stopping the tears from falling.

You thought about what it means for your life now and how it could’ve even happened. Even before the disarray with Rafe, you didn’t want a baby just yet.

So, with everything happening…how can you bring a baby into this mess?

But you knew how upset Rafe would be if you told him, you didn’t want the baby.

And all you’ve been doing for the last few weeks is trying not to upset him.

So, when he got home from work that day, you gave him the news.

He didn’t say anything at first and you worried that you got it wrong. That maybe he changed his mind, and a baby would only add to the stress.

Then, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. He kissed you and you could tell he was elated about it.

But it faltered when he noticed that your mood didn’t exactly match his.

“I just thought we were being careful,” you told him.

You were sitting on a dining room chair, your hands in your lap. He bent down to look at you better, his hands gently finding yours.

“We were,” he said as a matter of fact. “But accidents happen. And I mean, we haven’t really been able to keep our hands off each other lately,” he added with a smirk.

He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off you, he means.

“What matters is we’re going to have a baby. We’re finally going to be a family.” He couldn’t hide his excitement even if he tried.

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest at his words. But as you looked into his eyes, trepidation filled yours.

Even now as you watch his chest rise and fall in his sleep, the feeling that he’s lying is one you can’t ignore any longer.

Before you can think about it anymore, you can feel your stomach twist into knots, bile starting to rise.

You jump out of bed and run to the bathroom, spilling the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

You’re not sure how much longer you can bear this sickness. You’re told it should only last the first trimester, but it could last the whole pregnancy if you’re unlucky.

You don’t hear him walk up behind you, but you feel the comforting weight of his hand on your back as he rubs circles into your shirt.

Even if you wanted to, you don’t think you have the strength to push him away.

The phone call came unexpectedly.

It’s true that you got behind on editing for clients. But you thought you were okay. You were just starting to get back into finishing them.

You were actually making yourself a snack before resuming your work on a new book. But now there’s no reason to keep going.

“They’re called deadlines for a reason, Y/N.” Your boss’s voice rings out.

“I know, and I apologize, Mr. Samuels. It’s just a lot has been going on lately and…I recently found out that I’m pregnant.”

You can hear him sigh.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But you knew from the beginning how important it is to meet deadlines, especially with how fast paced things are in the publishing world.”

You want to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, but you can’t. All you can do is listen.

“We have to let you go. I’m sorry. I wish you the best with the baby,” he says before hanging up.

Rafe finds you on the couch, still crying, even hours later.

He says your name with worry and fear.

Not even a moment later, he’s trying to wipe your tears away.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

All you can do is shake your head as you sit up.

“Baby, you gotta tell me what’s wrong,” he tries again.

You sniffle as you try to blink away anymore tears.

“They fired me,” you finally say, as if your mouth is filled with glue, struggling to get the words out.

He keeps his gaze away from you, putting a hand on your knee, trying to soothe you yet again.

You wonder if you’ll ever get sick of it.

Maybe you already are.

“Did they say why?”

Now it’s your turn to look somewhere else. You bite your lip instead of answering.

Rafe sighs before telling you, “Maybe this is a good thing.”

He gets your attention with those words. He immediately continues at your furrowed brow.

“All that work and stress isn’t good for the baby. Now you’ll have more time to relax.”

It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying.

You scoff, “you’ve never liked me working. I’m sure this makes you happy.”

“No,” he argues. “I’m just trying to see the bright side of this, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. There’s no point in fighting with him about this. It’s not like this is his fault.

So, you just nod.

“I’m going to start dinner. You’re probably hungry.”

That’s all you say before leaving the room.

You thought the chaos would end there. You’ve been dealt one blow after another. So, maybe it was naïve for you to think things could ever calm down.

It starts with a segment on the news.

You had the TV on while you were vacuuming, barely able to hear the voices over the loud noise of cleaning the rug.

But when you catch a glimpse of the floating words under the reporter, you can feel your heart sink to your stomach.

You fumble as you try to turn off the vacuum as fast as you can before turning up the TV.

“The only information we have as of right now is a body was found earlier today, spotted by local fishermen. Based on eyewitness reports, it is a male in his mid to late twenties. Kildare County Police Department is refusing to comment at this time. We hope to…”

You almost end up puking on the rug you just cleaned, but you’re able to run to the kitchen. The poison spills from your lips into the sink.

You’re not sure when the tears started, but your retching turns into sobs as you collapse onto the floor.

You’re going to jail for helping to cover up a murder and all you can think about is what your parents will think.

The whole island will know what a horrible human being you are.

Anyone you have ever loved will never look at you the same.

Besides Rafe, you suppose.

Why doesn’t your love for him have any boundaries?

If only it did, you wouldn’t be throwing your whole life away.

This whole time you thought you were scared of Rafe, but really, you’re scared of your love for him.

He has a hold on you that made it so easy for you to throw away your morals, choosing his violence over your peace.

You barely hear him get home, closing the front door like he’s afraid someone will burst in at any second.

He’s off early from work, but you wouldn’t know that since you haven’t left your spot on the cold kitchen floor.

You don’t notice the guilt that washes over his face when he sees you because it’s gone as quickly as it’s there.

“We have to go, Y/N,” he says while reaching his arms out, trying to get you off the floor.

You ignore him, sobs still erupting from you.

“We’re going to jail, Rafe. They know. They know everything…”

Another gut-wrenching cry falls from your lips as your eyes screw shut.

“That’s why we gotta leave, alright?”

He’s finally able to pull you off the floor, guiding you upstairs with a tight grip.

“We’re gonna get out of this, baby. Just stop crying, please,” he placates.

You’re finally able to calm yourself down, a sob still trying to get free every now and then.

You realize what he’s doing when he starts throwing clothes into an empty suitcase.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to pack?” His appeasing tone is gone, irritation replacing it.

It takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Rafe, what are you doing? We can’t leave.”

“What other choice do we have?”

You follow him into his office.

“I’m not spending the rest of our lives running. Especially when we’ll have a baby soon.”

You try to convince him to change his mind.

He doesn’t stop to look at you, rummaging through the drawers of his desk. Your mouth twists up when a small bag of coke falls onto the wooden surface.

As much as it upsets you, it almost makes you nostalgic for a time when Rafe’s addiction was the only dark cloud lingering over your relationship.

Now, there’s too many to count.

“Flush it,” he demands, pointing to the bag.

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes before you trudge over to grab it.

At least Rafe knows he can’t bring that with him.

You don’t want to have to say goodbye to your life, to the island you’ve always called home.

But you really don’t want to go to prison.

You’re still standing there, staring out your bathroom window after the drugs are long gone, flushed down the toilet.

It hits you how much you want your parents, wishing they could swoop in and fix everything like they could when you were a child.

It also hits you that the human growing inside you will expect the same thing from you and Rafe one day.

Except, you know they deserve so much better than what either of you could offer.

A thunderous noise echoes throughout the house, followed by a man’s voice.

You can still hear him yelling when you run to find Rafe.

“What are you doing?” you yell, seeing him loading a gun.

“They’re coming for us.”

“Are you stupid? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

You could hear them pounding on the door. They’re coming in any second, you know it.

You gently grab his wrist.

“Just do the right thing for once. Rafe, please,” you lightly say.

You stare into his blue eyes, and it feels like time has stopped, stretched thin before the inevitable happens.

His jaw ticks and you think he’s not going to listen to you.

But as the door bursts open, he drops the gun onto his desk.

He gives you a quick but bruising kiss before he steps into the hallway.

Everything that comes after is a blur.

The police let him walk downstairs, their guns pointed at him before cuffing him.

Not only do they arrest him, taking him to a police car. But they have a search warrant. They’re allowed to look anywhere they want to. Men you’ve never met before get to go through your things, creating a mess in their trail.

At least they don’t arrest you.

You expect them to, but instead they ask you tons of questions. You tell them how Rafe came home early from work, frantic about needing to leave. You were confused as he wouldn’t tell you anything.

You decide to feign ignorance. That’s a better way of saying you lie right to their faces.

But you’re not just protecting yourself anymore.

Now you wait at the police station, leg shaking and fingers fidgeting with the light sweater you have on.

You can hear Ward and his lawyer speaking to Shoupe, voices being raised every once in a while.

They’re charging Rafe with first-degree murder. As of right now, only for Jake’s murder. They still don’t have enough evidence to charge him with Chase’s, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they found something soon.

They booked him in the county jail where he’ll be until his trial. Unless Ward can negotiate bail.

You thought something like this happening would ease your guilt about the situation. But instead, you feel more lost than you have in a while.

Can you really spend the rest of your life without Rafe? Raise his child all on your own.

You hear a door open, and slam shut, Ward leaving the sheriff’s office with a look of annoyance.

He sits in the chair next to you, brushing his forehead with his hand before turning to you with a forced tight-lipped smile.

“How you holdin’ up?”

All you do is nod, giving him a tight-lipped smile back.

“We’re working on bailing him out. It might take a while, but we’ll do our best so he’s home before the trial.”

You decide it’s best not to say anything, unsure of whether you want Rafe away from you or with you. It’s been a battle of these feelings for the longest time now.

You just want it to stop.

“From what I can tell, the only thing they have on him is the weapon. All the DNA on the body was washed away in the ocean,” he explains.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye like he’s waiting for you to say something.

His casualty almost makes it seem like he’s aware that you’ve known about the murders longer than just today.

You’re not sure if it has to do with your calmness about the situation or if Rafe told him. If it is your calmness to blame, it’s really defeat that it’s being mistaken for.

“Thanks, Ward,” you quietly say. “I’m sure Rafe would appreciate this.”

“Well, it’s not just about Rafe. It’s about you too.”

You stare at him with a question in your eyes as you can feel your heart start to beat faster.

Is this about you helping Rafe?

“I want you to know you’re taken care of. That I always look out for my family. And you’re family, now more than ever.”

You squint your eyes still not understanding.

“Rafe told me you’re pregnant.”

You move your eyes to your lap before replying, “oh. We were going to wait to tell you.”

“I know,” he immediately says. “I know. I was supposed to act surprised when you told the family.” He chuckles a little. “But given the situation…”

He swallows, looking away for a second.

“I just know how much you need him right now. And whatever happens…I want you to know that I’m here for you. Rose is here for you. We’re all here for you.” He pauses, sincerity filling his eyes.

“I don’t want to say it, but if things don’t go the way we want with Rafe, I know leaving may seem like a good idea. But that baby is a light that will brighten the darkness that surrounds us now. We all need it. Even Rafe,” he adds.

Sometimes when you talk to Ward, it feels like he knows what you’re thinking.

Some people might like that. But not you.

You understand he’s Rafe’s father, but the fact that Rafe already told him about you being pregnant doesn’t sit right with you.

What else have they been talking about?

“It’s getting late. You should get home, get some rest. I’ll figure things out. I’ll get him home to you, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you, Ward. Try and get some rest too,” you tell him with a sweet smile that drops when you leave his sight.

When you get home, it looks like a tornado has been through it. All the time you’ve spent keeping it looking good has now been ruined by a bunch of men in uniforms.

You decide to ignore it all and go right to your bedroom, hoping to get the rest that your father-in-law was talking about.

When you see the state of it, you end up dropping your purse on the floor with a heavy sigh.

There is no rest in sight for you.

You start to tidy things up, putting clothes back in drawers, and fixing the pillows on the bed.

When the room looks clean enough, you head to the bathroom, finding everything scattered on the counter.

You quickly begin to put things back in drawers and in the medicine cabinet.

Until your thumb catches on a loose label on one of the pill bottles.

You think it’s one of the drugs that Rafe was prescribed a little while ago for headaches. But the label with the name of the drug is peeling back, another label under it.

You tear it off, brow furrowing when you see a name of a drug you don’t recognize. You find your phone and search up the name.

You can’t stop your bottom lip from trembling when you read what it’s for.

Why does Rafe need pills that put you to sleep, leaving you foggy and with possible memory-loss.

And why was he hiding it?

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[winchesterwild78]

Carry on My Wayward Son pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: A little spice, (nothing too bad), fluff

A/N: Just something I’ve been thinking about. This takes place at the end of Season 15. Dean doesn’t die, cause dammit he deserved better than that. Uses Supernatural characters but doesn’t follow the storyline. All work is my own. Don’t take it. 

Dean survived and is coming home after the rebar accident. Think of this as our Season 16. 😀

Minors DNI 18+

About half an hour later you returned to the hospital with Dean’s food, and pie. Walking in his room he was sitting up and joking around with Sam. “Hey sweetheart. I’m glad you’re back. I’m starving.” He smiled at you. 

You crossed the room, sitting the bag of food in front of him and placing a kiss on his lips. You were just going in for a quick kiss, but Dean deepened the kiss. He licked your bottom lip and you parted your lips, allowing him entrance. The kiss turned passionate, all the anxiety and fear of almost losing him pouring out in the kiss. Dean’s hands went into your hair, pulling you closer. 

You moaned. Sam cleared his throat. You giggled and your face flushed red. “Sorry Sammy.” Dean laughed, “Yeah, Sorry Sammy.”

Dean began eating the food you bought and Sam grabbed a burger too. “Thanks sweetheart.” Dean said with a mouth full of food. You smiled at him and nodded. You sat down beside him and watched him eat and joke around. Your heart is full of love and clenched at the thought of almost losing him. 

Sam, Dean and you had talked about leaving hunting. Sammy had considered going back to college to be a lawyer, Dean was thinking about being a firefighter, and you had considered becoming a nurse or teacher. One thing was certain, Dean wanted to marry you and have children with you. 

A few hours later, the doctor returned to check on Dean. Checking his wound and everything else, the doctor decided Dean could go home as long as he took it easy. “Mrs. Winchester, I’m going to need you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t push himself, he keeps the wound clean and you’re going to need to help change his bandage.” You smiled, “I can do that.” “Great, before I send in the paperwork, do any of you have any questions?” Dean smirked, “Yeah doc, when can I have sex with my beautiful wife?” You blushed and Dean laughed. “Well, as long as you two take it easy I think whenever you feel strong enough.” Dean nodded and smiled.

The doctor left the room and Dean laughed at how red you were. “Sweetheart, why are you so red? It’s not like he doesn’t know we have sex. I mean look at you baby, so beautiful.” You smiled, “I know he knows we’ve had sex, but Dean you almost died. I almost lost you and all you can think about is sex?” 

Dean took your hand, “No, that’s not all I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about our life together, our future together, that I almost died and I’d never feel your lips on mine again. It scared the hell out of me. The thought of never holding you in my arms again, damn sweetheart. I’ve been to hell and back, and not being able to hold you is worse than hell.” 

You took a shaky breath and leaned in to kiss him. “Dean Winchester, I love you so damn much.” He smirked, “I know, Jack said you prayed hard. The pain he felt from you and the love you have for me is what made him send me back. He said we deserved a chance at heaven on Earth.” 

About half an hour later Dean was discharged from the hospital. The three of you went back to the hotel the boys had been staying in before you three headed home the next day. 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna get another room so you two can be alone.” Sam said as he walked towards the front desk. You smiled and nodded, grateful for Sam. 

Dean took your hand and led you into the hotel room. He was practically pulling you in and you were giggling. As the two of you crossed the threshold of the door Dean closed the door, locking it and pulled you into his arms. 

“God I would have missed that laugh of yours, and these beautiful y/e/c eyes. These kissable lips, this neck.” Dean was kissing down your neck when you stopped him. 

“Dean, remember the doctor said you had to take it easy.” “I am taking it easy, sweetheart. Making love to you is easy.” Dean winked at you. 

Dean backed you up to the bed and laid you back. He climbed between your legs and peppered your body with kisses. You leaned up, removed your shirt and bra and Dean removed his shirt. He winced in pain. “Dean, honey, please be careful.” “Maybe I should lay down, and you get on top.” Dean suggested. “I think that’s a good idea.” You kissed his lips. 

Later that night, laying in Dean’s arms after several rounds of love making, Dean held you close whispering in your ear. “Sweetheart, I want to get out. I want to have babies with you, marry you and live a normal life.” You leaned up and looked into his green eyes that were so full of love, “What about Sammy? I know you’d never leave him in this life alone.” “He told me at the hospital he was planning on proposing to Eileen. He sees a future with her. He’s also looked into going back to Stanford. He wants out of this life too.” 

“Dean, I'd love nothing more than to marry you and have your babies. If you’re sure this is what you want then let’s do it.” Dean pulled you close and kissed your lips, “I do sweetheart, I’m tired of living this life and I want a normal life with you. Now, let’s start working on making those babies.” You laughed as Dean pulled you back on top of him. All night he hadn’t used a condom. Which was out of character for him, even with you. You knew he was trying to get you pregnant tonight. Dean was nothing if not determined when he wanted something.

The next morning the three of you headed back to the bunker. Dean drove the Impala and Sam drove your car, while you rode with Dean. A few hours later Dean was pulling into the bunker. Dean got out of the car and stretched, “Home sweet home.” 

You grabbed the bags and went to your shared room with Dean. You started to unpack as he sat on the bed and removed his shoes. Your mind kept drifting back to what Sam told you Dean said, “Tell her to look in the safe in our room.” Curiosity got the better of you. “Dean, honey. Sam told me you said to look in the safe, do you still want me to or no?” Dean’s head shot up, “Oh, um no, sweetheart. You don’t need to now.” You nodded, a little disappointed, but you figured whatever was in there was something he wanted you to have if he had died.” 

You kissed him and gently touched his face, “Baby I’m so glad you’re home, safe. I’m going to go cook some dinner.” As you started to walk away, Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, “Hey, I love you, Y/N. I promise you’ll know what’s in there, just not right now.” You nodded, “I know baby.” 

You left your room and walked into the kitchen to start making dinner. You put in your earbuds and started getting dinner ready. Singing and dancing around the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed Dean leaning against the doorframe watching you. 

As you danced and moved your hips around, Dean felt his heart flutter. He loved watching you sing and dance around like you didn’t have a care in the world. 

He knew this was one way you dealt with the turmoil in your mind. Dean was about to interrupt your mini concert when he heard his name being called. He turned and standing next to him was Jack. 

Dean stepped over and pulled Jack into a deep hug. “Jack! Man it’s good to see you kid.” “Hi Dean. I just wanted to come check on you guys.” “Well we just got back and we’re already talking about getting out of here his life.” “Dean, yours and Sam’s jobs are done. The only thing left for you two to do is carry on with your lives, the way it was intended for you to do. You and Y/N take care of each other and the babies.” 

“What babies?” Dean asked, flabbergasted. “She’s pregnant, Dean.” “Wow, so I guess I did get her pregnant last night.” “No Dean, she’s been pregnant, and with twins. You got her pregnant that night 2 months ago when you both got drunk, jumped in the lake and had..” Dean threw his hands up, “Okay Jack, I don’t need you to tell me what happened. I remember.” Dean chuckled. “Why are you turning red, Dean?” “I’m not, Jack. You know what, just forget it.” 

Jack told Dean to take care and he’d be around. As Dean walked back into the kitchen he saw you still dancing. His smile stretched across his face. You were pregnant with his babies. 

Dean crossed the room, threw his arms around you and pulled you into a searing kiss. When he pulled away you both were breathless. “What was that for?” “I just love you so much, sweetheart.” “I love you too, Dean. Now let me finish dinner. You should be resting anyway.” Dean nodded and walked back to your shared room. He walked over to the safe and took out the thing he’d been keeping in there. The one item that he’s had with him since he was little. This was what he wanted you to find in the safe. His mother’s engagement ring. Now he wanted you to have it, to be his wife and be his forever. 

Dean carried the diamond in the palm of his hand as he walked towards the kitchen. His heart pounding in his chest, palms sweating and his hands trembling. 

As he turned the corner there you were. His home, mother of his children, his future. You looked up and saw Dean. You removed your earbuds, “Dean, are you okay baby? You’re shaking.” 

Dean’s lips landed on yours, “More than okay. I love you so much. You’re my home, my best friend, my lover and the mother of my children. The one title you don’t have officially is my wife.” Dean dropped to his knee, and took your hand. “Will you marry me?” Dean slipped the ring on your finger, causing you to gasp, “Yes, Dean I’ll marry you.” He stood up and kissed you again. 

When he pulled away you looked at him, “Dean, I don’t have the title of the mother to your children yet.” You chuckled. “Actually, you do.” Dean placed his hand softly on your belly. Your eyes went wide. “Jack paid a visit and told me you’re about 2 months pregnant with twins.” 

Your breath hitched as your hands went to your belly, “Oh my god, I’m pregnant?!” 

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