#when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night

[sai-int]

könig loves coming home to you and your sweet pussy

cw : somnophilia, thighfucking, dubcon, mdni

he usually comes back from deployment in the middle of the night. the house is dark, quiet, and youre already in bed, sound asleep. he drops his gear by the door, taking his large, clunky boots off so he doesn't rattle the picture frames on the wall when he walks past.

he lightly nudges the bedroom door open with his foot. he sees you, all wrapped in sheets while light from the street lamp floods through the window. he told you to keep those closed when he was gone, schatz. can't have anyone looking at his best girl, now can he?

you stir for a moment when he sidles in next to you, crowding the bed, making your dreams twist just from the smell of him near you. he's been gone so long, he doesn't care to be gentle—he just puts his meaty paws around your waist, pulling you back and against his firm chest.

he's spooning you, the scent of you wafts into his nose, the sweet scent of your body wash fresh on your skin. he's nestles his nose deeper into your hair—palming your hip with his large mitt—as he grinds his growing bulge against the soft swell of your ass. he plants ginger kisses to the slide of your head, your temple, the crest of your ear, whispering how "you're always going to be his, schatzi."

fuck, it's like you knew he was there. you, oh so gently grind back onto him, soft, breathy pants leaking through the thick of your sleep. könig thanks god for the flimsy cotton panties you're wearing when he slips his hand to your front, finding your clit and setting a soft, tantalizing pace.

you squirm a bit and he has to bite back a laugh. he just knows his baby too well, of course he does. he always knows exactly what you need. he loosens his pants, unbuckling and shimmying them down along with his boxers, enough to free his weeping cock.

his deft fingers slip lower, practically gliding with how slick you've become, leaking through and soaking your panties. "naughty girl..." he slobbers down to your neck and the side of your arm, gently rutting himself against your bare back.

he pulls down your panties to mid thigh. god you're so warm and soft, he can't even fucking think straight. he takes his cock into his hands, gently teasing it against where your ass folds into your thighs, gently circling his leaky tip, lubing the space.

you grind back onto him ever so slightly and that's all it takes for his resolve to break. he pushes forward, long dick sliding through your delicate lips and kissing your clit before pulling back. he can feel your sweet, hot juices leaking out of you, coating his cock as he fucks your thighs.

you whimper your hips bucking with each pass of his drooling, ruddy tip against your clit. he knows your so close, he knows you so well, little mouse. he keeps going, but he doesn't want to wake you so he restrains himself, gently slobbering all over your shoulder while humping his cock between your soft thighs.

he's just so pent up, it's not long before his cock twitches. he's cumming seconds after, ropes of his thick seed pulse out of him, coating the inside of your thighs and your lips. he drags his fingers back to your clit, circling fast enough to get you tightening around nothing, until you finally, unknowingly cum, all over his softening cock and the sheets.

könig stills his cock between your thighs, slumping against your sleeping frame as you snuggle back toward his chest. he thinks he should go grab a towel to clean up the mess he made, but he doesn't. he knows he'll end up between your thighs before dawn breaks anyway.

[animeangelriku]

one piece au where instead of doflamingo killing rosinante on minion island, law gets out of the chest and vows to become the third corazón as long as doflamingo spares his brother. they’re both taken back into the family, with rosinante as a prisoner and with law continuing his training for his future role as doflamingo’s right hand man.

after they get to dressrosa and doflamingo takes over, viola meets law and realizes they’re both in the same boat, working for someone they despise in order to keep their loved ones safe, so they become, if not friends, at least allies. law takes any chance he can get to sneak away to rosinante’s cell and spend time with him, just being in his company. rosinante obviously clings to any moment with law he can have, but he warns law to be careful. if doflamingo finds out, they could both be in serious trouble.

meanwhile, doflamingo realizes that he can use law and rosinante’s attachment to each other to his favor, punishing rosinante whenever law steps out of line and therefore keeping him under his thumb and extinguishing any rebellious spark that may arise in him. of course, that doesn’t mean doflamingo leaves rosinante alone otherwise; his brother’s betrayal is still a crime that cannot be paid in anything other than blood.

law is resigned to be under doflamingo’s control for the rest of his life, because at least rosinante will be alive and as safe as law can keep him. but then law catches doflamingo torturing rosinante and realizes that they will never be free from doflamingo as long as he lives. so law starts to scheme and plan for a future in which he will be strong enough to take on doflamingo and defeat him.

law is officially named the third corazón when he turns 22, the same age rosinante was when he took the mantle. this means that while he is on sabaody when shit goes down two years later, he doesn’t intervene, but he does see luffy punch the celestial dragon and takes note of him. originally, law is at marineford under doflamingo’s orders, but he still saves luffy “on a whim” and goes radio silent until luffy wakes up.

(he definitely did not save luffy because luffy also has the middle name “d.” it’s definitely not because he knows the devastation of losing a sibling after promising you’d keep them safe. it’s definitely not because rosinante firmly believes that a new dawn is coming, and luffy seems to be at the head of said new dawn. it’s just “on a whim.”)

of course, upon law’s return to dressrosa, doflamingo punishes rosinante for law’s insubordination. law sneaks into rosinante’s cell later that night and apologizes, but rosinante tells him that all that matters to him is that law is okay, and that if law ever wanted to run away, on his own, that’s okay, rosinante understands, law doesn’t have to worry about him. enraged, law asks if rosinante believes he could be that selfish.

“sometimes,” rosinante says, “i wish you were.”

and law snaps and breaks down in tears. rosinante holds him against his chest and pets his hair as law screams and cries and curses doflamingo and all the donquixote pirates.

the next day, law is resolved to bring down doflamingo and kill him. he’s still not strong enough, but he’ll get there, and when he does, he and rosinante will be free, and they’ll travel the world together like rosinante said they would. law tells viola of his mission, and viola shares that the tontattas are planning a rebellion, so they join forces and decide to lay low until the moment is right. law keeps his plans secret from rosinante; the less he knows, the less he is at risk. and also, law just doesn’t want rosinante to worry about him more than he already does.

law still goes to punk hazard, though he does so as doflamingo’s corazón, and when he runs into luffy and the straw hats, he drops to his knees and begs for his help, figuring that luffy will agree as payment for law saving his life. luffy agrees, even before law tells him what he needs help for, so law still has the realization that the straw hats, and luffy especially, are insane.

punk hazard is slightly different, in the sense that law is playing double agent, but his duel with vergo still happens, except that he gets rid of vergo’s den-den mushi so he doesn’t have the chance to call doflamingo and tell him of law’s betrayal. as far as doflamingo knows, everything is still going according to plan in punk hazard, and law and vergo are on their way back to dressrosa.

law returns to dressrosa with the straw hats and meets in secret with viola to tell her he brought reinforcements. they need to act now, today, before doflamingo realizes anything, or they’ll lose their chance. he begs viola to keep an eye on rosinante and to free him and take him out of the palace if anything goes to shit.

at first, things seem to be going exactly as they planned, but then luffy disappears (because he’s in the colosseum fighting for the mera mera no mi), law gets caught by doflamingo and chained to the heart seat, doflamingo vows to kill rosinante in front of law, and all hope seems lost.

just as law is cursing himself for failing (and most of all, for failing rosinante), the tontattas (and usopp) knock out sugar, the toys turn back into humans, luffy, viola, and kyros burst into the palace and behead doflamingo’s string clone, and the rest goes pretty much the same as in canon for the most part, including the colosseum’s participants joining and aiding luffy in fighting the donquixote family executives.

one of the things that changes is that before doflamingo drags law back to the palace, rosinante is rescued by viola, who has no other option but to tell him what’s going on. after having several small heart attacks, rosinante leaves in search of law and finally manages to catch up to him on the rooftop, where law and luffy have been fighting doflamingo, trebol, and bellamy. with rosinante keeping trebol occupied, law gains a bit of an advantage in the fight.

and then doflamingo saws off law’s arm.

trebol gains the upper hand against rosinante, so he and doflamingo still beat the shit out of law, and then doflamingo tries to get law to perform the perennial youth surgery on him in exchange for a favor while rosinante yells at him not to, unable to do anything else because trebol has immobilized him.

law agrees to doflamingo’s deal, and the favor he asks?

“take back all the pain you took from cora-san these past 13 years. beg for his forgiveness, and then let him go.”

(and since he’s still a little shit, he also tells doflamingo to lick the asses of every single citizen in dressrosa. because of course he does.)

doflamingo, furious and enraged at law still continuing to choose rosinante over him, shoots law.

rosinante screams. doflamingo shoots law again and again and again and again and again and rosinante can do nothing except scream and cry and beg doflamingo to stop, please, doffy please stop don’t hurt him doffy stop please please doffy please please PLEASE—

rosinante rushes to law and holds him in his arms and pets his hair and calls law my boy, my boy, my sweet, darling boy and cries and cries and cries and cries

he kisses the crown of law’s head, lays law down as gently as he can, and lunges at doflamingo

doflamingo avoids his attacks easily, grinning that cruel fucking grin of his while rosinante snarls i’ll kill you, i’ll kill you, i’ll fucking kill you, until doflamingo stops playing with him and ties him up in his strings.

luffy gets back to the roof, and law defeats trebol, and luffy takes law and rosinante to the sunflower field with robin. rosinante is the one carrying law instead of cavendish, and law shambles them both to luffy while he recovers to use his haki again, and when luffy punches doflamingo through the ground and splits the island in two, rosinante pulls law into his arms and bursts into tears. law hugs him back with his one good arm and sobs quietly into his chest. the marines take doflamingo away, and for the first time in 13 years, law breathes easy.

[ladywaffles]

A little ditty about the first time Maverick preened Ice’s wings for him… thanks for letting me play in your sandbox! :)

It happens during Ice’s molt, the year they decide to call a spade and spade and stopped leaving before dawn. They send their second class back out to sea three days before Ice molts. Maverick has been an instructor for almost a year, but this is Ice’s first molt as an instructor.

He’s not unused to flying, but it’s been a while since he’s put this many hours in the sky, pulling the maneuvers that Top Gun teaches. He wakes up at three in the morning with an itch in his wings that makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

It’s hell.

Ice trudges to the bathroom and closes the door before he flicks the light on, careful to make sure that it doesn’t bleed out through the doorway and wake Maverick up. If one of them has to be awake and miserable at oh-dark-thirty in the morning, there’s no sense in the other one suffering when they’re in between cohorts.

He gets a look at his wings in the mirror, and it’s rough. He hasn’t looked this bad since he was nineteen and putting himself through the rigor of daily PT in Annapolis. Sighing, he stretches a wing out and starts plucking at the dead feathers, massaging them out until they fall to the floor. It’s a mind-numbing task, especially in the middle of the night when he could be in bed, pressed against the warm line of Maverick’s body next to his, but he knows well enough that he won’t be able to fall asleep until he’s worked most of the way through his wings.

He’s just about to reach for the awkward part by his shoulder when the bathroom door swings open.

Maverick looks about as tired as Ice feels. His hair is rumpled, sticking straight up on one side of his head, and he blinks in the harsh light from the bathroom vanity like a drunk trying to focus on walking in a straight line.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Maverick squints at him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ice says.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Maverick pouts.

Ice stares at him blankly. It’s too goddamn early (late?) for him to figure out what Maverick wants from him.

“It’s the middle of the night, Mav, you should be asleep,” he says.

“We should be asleep,” Maverick replies and drags him out of the bathroom with a steel grip on his wrist. He makes it all the way to the edge of the bed, pushes down on Ice’s shoulders until he’s sitting on the ground, then sits on the mattress with Ice between his legs.

“Maverick, I can take care of this, really, go back to sleep,” Ice tells him.

“Will you just shut up already and let me get on with it so we can both go back to bed,” Maverick grumbles.

Ice does as he’s told and shuts up. Maverick’s already irritable enough, and Ice doesn’t want to piss him off more.

Mav is faster than he is at working the dead feathers free. It helps that he’s got a better vantage point and can actually reach all of Ice’s wing without contorting his arms into twisted poses, but Maverick really is better at preening than Ice is. It feels nice, to have Mav’s nimble fingers running through his feathers. It’s a good feeling on a normal day, when they’re cleaning up after a day of blasting the kids out of the sky, but when he’s molting and every feather out of place is that much more annoying? Ice would bottle the sensation if he could.

He doesn’t realize how deep he’s out of it until his cheek smacks into Mav’s thigh. Ice jerks up, his wings puffing out as he snaps awake.

“You undid it all,” Maverick moans. “Will you just calm down and let me work?” He pushes in between Ice’s shoulder blades until Ice relaxes, then threads his fingers through Ice’s almost-too-long hair and guides it back to rest on his leg.

“No, I want to stay awake,” Ice protests. “You’re awake too, I woke you up—”

“Kazansky, I would not be here if I didn’t want to be,” Maverick says.

“But—”

“Let me take care of you, Ice.”

Ice wants to twist around and look at him, but Maverick curls his own wings around them both, cocooning them away from the rest of the world. It’s hard to fight the lure of comfort then, so Ice lets himself melt into Maverick as he works through the molting feathers.

He falls asleep at some point, and it’s nearly dawn by the time that Mav tugs him into bed properly and drags them both under the covers. Ice drapes himself over Maverick, their chests pressed together, until Maverick winds his arms around Ice’s body and holds him close.

“Thank you, love you,” Ice mumbles, straight into Maverick’s skin.

“Tell me again when you’re awake, hotshot,” Maverick says.

///

The sunshine wakes him up properly. It’s mid-morning, and Maverick is already awake, scratching his fingers along the base of Ice’s wings.

“Good morning, grumpy,” Maverick teases.

“Don’t stop,” Ice whines, tucking his head under Mav’s chin. He feels Maverick’s laugh in his chest, but Maverick does as Ice asks and runs his hands over Ice’s back.

“You could’ve woken me up,” Ice says.

“Funny, I think I said the same thing to you last night.”

Ice lifts his chin enough to look at Maverick. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he says.

“Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Mav—”

“It’s a yes or no question. Am I sleeping in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been doing that?”

“Four months, give or take.”

“In the past four months, have I ever given you the idea that I don’t want to be here?”

“No.”

“Logic and clear thinking would indicate then that I want you to bother me by walking me up when you’re uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? Because it wouldn’t be a bother.” Maverick cups his cheek. “C’mon, Kazansky. I know you’re Mister Ice-Cold-No-Mistakes, but I think you’ve got room for me. I want to be here. Let me be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Ice says. He doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s… been a while since someone did that for me. I usually just ride it out myself.”

“Two fuckin’ years since we met, and you never thought to ask for my help?” Maverick grins.

Ice tries to think of a retort, then last night comes back to him in crystal clear picture, like the sky above the Pacific on a cloudless day.

He knows exactly what to say.

“I get it. I know why you want me to wake you up when I’m up and uncomfortable,” Ice says, pushing his weight onto his elbows so he can hold himself above Maverick.

“Yeah? What is it then?” Maverick asks.

“I love you.”

He watches as Maverick passes through a carousel of emotions in a matter of moments.

“You said to tell you again when I was awake,” Ice continues.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” Maverick replies, breathless. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“If you keep talking to me like that, we’re not gonna make it out of bed in time for lunch,” Maverick says.

“Promise?”

There’s a playful glint in Maverick’s eye, the same one Ice saw the day he asked for a flyby for two.

Ice smiles back. “Love you.”

First post of the new year (even though I started this pic in december shhhh)

and what a surpise, it's more wing!au :) I just like the juxtaposition of admiral Kazansky (2 star here), polished to such perfection even his feathers are gleaming, versus just Ice, casual, rumpled feathers being diligently seen to by his loving partner.

Maverick has trouble sitting still usually, but preening Ice like this gets him to focus like nothing else (except for when he's flying a jet, of course)

[sugarcubeindulgent]

no idea if you did this or would lol. i suggested it RIGHT before you originally turned requests off, but what abt a dubcon/noncon-esk somnophilia fic. it doesnt haveeee to be a bad thing either, maybe the readers fine with it. just they wake up to their bf in the middle of fucking them, with no clue on how long this has been going on. hes never brought up before, never even mentioned being into somnophilia

can be with any of the characters just whoever you think would fit. idc who 🙏

howl | jerry stokes x f!reader

synopsis. jerry decides to take a risk. again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. explicit content. noncon. somnophilia. strangling. blood mention. unprotected sex. established relationship. p in v.

a/n: love this request! thank you for the request, anon! i fear i made it a bad thing <\3 but then it becomes a good thing!

“God…I already feel tired…”,you mutter softly beside Jerry beneath the chatter of the movie playing on the television in his bedroom. Dark eyes slowly slide to you and Jerry tilts his head while looking at the way a small smile rests on your lips but your fluttering eyelids are so clearly fighting the weight of them. That familiar guilt coils through his intestines like rusty barbed wire but the excitement that tingles through his blood and veins when you yawn and fix your grip on his Toad plush in your grip seems to numb the guilt and ache of the sharp razors. “I always fall asleep so early when I sleep over here…”,you laugh and look at him with droopy eyelids,”Sorry.” Jerry smiles, he shakes his head and waves a hand in reassurance.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”,he says as he sits up a bit and he slips off the bed, feet touching the sleeping bag beside his bed he always uses when you sleep over. “You should just go to sleep. Don’t worry.” That excitement tingles all the warmer when you can barely give him a response, simply nodding and muttering incoherently while slowly sinking down and tugging the alien-patterned blanket over you. “Night.” You’re already dozing off, your head falling heavy against one of his pillows while your eyes finally slot shut like a doll being laid on its back. Except you’re on your side holding his Toad plush loosely.

Maybe he’s okay. He had given you less of his sleeping pills than usual, he was running so low and you were staying for another night – he didn’t want to waste either nights with you. But it seems like they’re working? That’s what he feels as he slowly steps closer to the bed and eyes you, you look so comfortable. You won’t wake up. Jerry begins to rationalize his thoughts as his cock twitches at the sight of your lips seperated for soft breaths, his eyebrows twitch and he runs a hand through his blonde hair. Swallowing thickly, he settles himself and walks over to his bedroom door.

The mechanical click of the lock makes him shudder and he grabs the remote off the foot of the bed. “She won’t wake up…she won’t…”,he mumbles to himself, a calming mantra as his hands tremble in the excited way they always seem to when he has his time alone with you.

Red roses blossom on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears as he turns up the television a bit before tossing the remote onto the sleeping bag he’ll use later. A big and dopey smile spreads on his lips as he stops where he knows your feet are. Hesitating, he slowly leans forward and his hands press into the bedding on either side of you. Leaning down, he blows into your ear like he always does when he wants to be sure. You don’t giggle or laugh, you don’t mumble for him to stop – you’re still asleep. Dead asleep. Jerry inhales shakily and immediately rips the blanket off of you.

When the fabric hits the ground, the plush follows next before your boyfriend turns you over onto your stomach. Jerry swallows thickly, positioned between your legs. He’s your boyfriend. This isn’t wrong. You two have had sex plenty of times so what’s wrong with it like this? It’s okay. That’s all Jerry keeps telling himself when he leans down and he rests his hands on either side of your head. But the guilt burns in him, it’s difficult to ignore but it doesn’t stand a chance against his throbbing cock and his excitement the moment he kisses your unmoving lips.

Kissing you, he whimpers before eagerly pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your jaw falls open slack and perfect. He pants against your mouth, his breaths warm and hot as he tongues down your throat and pushes the tip of his tongue against the inside of your cheek. Shaking and clammy hands grab your hips, pushing beneath your pajama shirt as he licks your teeth before taking your tongue between his lips to suck with a slightly shifting head in a back and forth motion. Clammy hands grab your tits beneath the fabric and he pulls away from the hot one-sided makeout with his mouth dripping in saliva.

Jerry opens his mouth, tongue lolling out so a glob of spit spills down to your tongue. He shudders at the sight, leaning down and mixing it in your mouth with his tongue to create lewd, wet noises before he pulls away again.

Slowly, gently, Jerry begins to pull off your shirt. Those same emotions burn up in him and his eyebrows furrow tightly, he frowns and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry…I’m disgusting…you’re so pretty…”,he whines as he tosses away the shirt. Leaning down immediately, he gropes one of your breasts while his mouth lavishes the other.

Suckling on your nipple, feeling it harden in his mouth and between his rolling fingers, he moans and begins to hump against your thigh. “I’m sorry…’m so sorry…”,he mumbles and whimpers around your nipple. Then he pulls off with a wet pop, marveling at the way the flesh jiggles when your skin falls back into place. He turns his attention to the other breast and he reaches down to grab at his waistband with his hands. Moaning around your nipple before pulling off in the same way and nuzzling his face into your sternum.

When his cock hits the air, he lets out a choked groan against your skin that smells like you. “Oh f-f-fuck…”,he whines. The air is cold against his hot and leaking cockhead, the tip an angry red as he pushes his pajama bottoms down to his knees pressed into the bedding between your legs.

Blonde hair is messy, he pulls his head up and Jerry looks down at you while panting heavily and grabbing your pajama bottoms by the fabric hiding your thighs. A string of pre-cum rolls down his cock at the sight of you. Laying on your back, arms spread to rest on either side of you. Wetness glistening on your nipples and tits, drool rolling down the side of your mouth. He can’t hold back, it’s been a week since he’s done this. He’s fucking sick, he knows.

“I’ll be quick…I promise, sweetie.” And he pulls the fabric in his fists.

Your cunt when you’re asleep is probably his favorite sight ever. It looks the same as when you’re awake, the only difference is how wet you are when you don’t even know what’s happening. His eyebrows sew up and he swallows thickly while spreading your thighs wide. Jerry grabs hold of the base of his cock, scared he’ll cum if he grabs anywhere near the sensitive tip – and he rubs the pre-cum along your folds and up to your clit. Jerry marvels at the way your breath hitches even while asleep.

Then, he slowly pushes into your relaxed and warm, wet hole. This is the best part. No fucking condoms.

“Oh m’god, oh m’god, oh–”,Jerry moans and whines quietly while feeling your wet and warm heat around his pulsing cock. He can’t even get fully inside before he grabs your hips and starts to rock his hips back and forth, his eyes screwing shut as he feels his cock pushing in and out of your wet cunt that’s so open for him. “You feel so good, honey…feel s’good, babe…love your pussy so much…”,he’s practically babbling as he fucks into you.

And he doesn’t seem to notice the way your eyelids twitch slightly.

Feeling your senses fluttering awake as your mind begins to unfog from the blanket of sleep, your eyebrows furrow and your mouth slowly shuts. The first thing you taste is sour gummy worms, your nose scrunches a bit knowing you hate eating those before you sleep. Hearing soft panting and heavy breathing your head slowly turns to keep your face directed up. Smelling sweat and Jerry’s dandruff shampoo, you then begin to feel something that makes you inhale softly. It’s a hard feeling of something pushing in and out of you, your eyes snap open and you look up with wide eyes.

“J-Jerry–wh-what–”

Your voice is raspy with sleep, your eyes wide yet someone bleary from sleep as you look from his wide eyes and mortified face downwards. Then you realize what’s happening, seeing Jerry buried into you up to his blonde pubes, your wide eyes look up into his face and panic settles in. Disgust slams into your heart and a violating feeling shoots through your chest. Immediately, you sit up and you shove at his chest.

“Jerry, what the fuck–” And you gasp when he suddenly slams you down by your shoulders. Your eyes widen at the sting where the balls of his palms slammed into the skin.

“Wait no I’m–I’m so sorry just–I-I can explain.”,he sputters in harsh and quick whispering while clamping one hand over your mouth. He doesn’t explain though, you feel him start to fuck into you again, his thrusts are hard and fast – like some desperate dog looking to get off. Fear and disgust make your eyes sting with tears and you try to crawl away from him. Muffled protests hit his palm for only moments, when he pulls his hand away you hope he’ll stop but then he wraps his hands around your throat.

Jerry’s hands tighten around your throat and you gasp, a choked gasp when you feel his palms against your windpipe and his fingers pressed into the source of your rushing blood. “J-Jerry wh–”,you’re unable to get much out while he sits up so you can’t smack or push his face as he fucks you. You begin to slap and punch at his arms but he’s strangling you tighter.

“‘M s’sorry…you feel s’good ‘m almost done j-just please…” Tears roll hotly down your temples, your eyes staring at him as he strangles you hard. You feel the violation, fear, and disgust shockingly and horrifyingly begin to slip away while looking up at Jerry.

You’ve never seen him like this. He’s always so sweet and cute, but right now – he’s still cute but not as much as he is…hot. The way he’s babbling apologies, talking about how good your pussy feels, how pretty you are, how he just has to do this – rape you essentially…And fuck, the way he’s not even flinching at the blood rolling down his arms now from where your nails ripped the first few layers of his skin. He’s like an animal, shoving his cock in and out of your pussy that’s squeezing him and squelching around his length. He’s not wearing a condom either. You come to a horrifying realization as you start to see sparkles in your eyes.

You’ve never felt so good fucking him.

When you smack against Jerry’s shoulder, he looks down at you and you nod eagerly while your back arches a bit. Jerry’s eyebrows twitch and furrow, he eases his palms on your windpipe and you gasp for air. Coughing softly with his hands still around your throat, you take a few moments before you nod eagerly. “F-Fuck me ha-harder, please?”,you whine raspily. And his eyes light up, he releases your throat and you go light-headed at the rush of blood.

His arms wrap around your waist and he starts to fuck into you even harder, balls smacking your ass as his cock reaches the sweetest spots inside of you while your arms wrap around his neck. You’re dizzy with pleasure and relief as he fucks you the best he’s ever had. “J-Jerry–u-uhn m-my god–fuck, you–feel s’good…”,you moan into his neck, keeping as quiet as you can while your face scrunches in pure pleasure and euphoria.

Jerry nods eagerly, his sweat smearing on you. “P-Pretty fuckdoll…m-my pretty fucktoy…”,he groans against your throat, words he’s never used before and it makes you all the wetter. “I’m g’nna cum in you…fill you so nice…” You don’t protest or argue, you nod happily as your stomach’s little ball of fire that’s been coiling since before you knew it’d been – you gasp when he pulls to the tip before slamming in to his balls to spill his cum inside of you.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl, nails digging into his back as you feel your first orgasm. You’re not simply cumming, you’re having an orgasm on his cock as he cums into your unprotected cunt. Gasping and panting, you breathe with some difficulty with his weight on your body and the near strangulation to unconsciousness. Breathing heavily, your body feels boneless and you drop your arms while your legs fall flat.

“I-I’m sorry…”,he breathes.

“D-Don’t b-be…”,you smile into his shoulder, feeling the smear of blood when you wipe them against his bedding.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ?? )

Warnings: angstangstangstangst, choking in a non-sexy way, canon violence, canon gore, reader is reeeallly unwell mentally, mentions of paranoia, mentions of self-hatred, just all the warnings. put 'em all here.

Word Count: 3154

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Trailing Sam and Dean was easier said than done. It took you about a week to catch up to them. You only happened to find them when you went to Bobby’s house as a last-ditch attempt in your search. 

Staying out of the sights of three of the most skilled hunters you’d ever met was easier said than done. However, your years of experience spying on the lairs of monsters for your father helped you to feel prepared for a high-stakes situation such as this.

Something that was making your job slightly easier was Bobby’s house being in the middle of nowhere. It allowed you to conceal your car in a clearing about a mile away from Bobby’s house at the edge of the woods. There, you slept; nights terrorized with traumatic memories and your visions of Dean in Hell. It had been months since you slept decently. 

****

The soft morning light coming through the tinted windows of the trunk of your car was somehow soothing. You blinked the sleep away from your eyes and suddenly remembered why you were here. Just like that, the peace you’d felt had dissipated and was replaced by a crushing weight. 

It was a heaviness you’d become accustomed to. There hadn’t exactly been room for joy in your life in days of late, and you hadn’t tried to find it. How your past-self had managed to become human again after the deaths of your immediate family members; you had no idea.

After concealing your car with fallen branches, you made the trek to the Singer house. You put a tracker on both the Impala and Bobby’s truck to avoid you losing them in the event you had to get back to your car when they decided to leave. 

Hopefully, the thick tree branch you sat on would be enough to hold you up for the long hours you’d be spending on it. The birds chirped as the sun rose, painting the sky in soft hues of orange, pink, and purple. 

Hours passed, and the loneliness began to set in. The yearning you felt for Dean when he was gone had only grown stronger since he’d been back. And yet, it still felt as though you were grieving him: as if you’d wake up the next morning, and he’d be gone again.

You used a pair of binoculars to spy yards away into the kitchen window. You saw Sam sitting on the bench below Bobby’s kitchen window, the oldest man standing nearby with his arms folded, and Dean pacing the floor. Your heart nearly stopped when you laid eyes on him for the first time since he’d been back, and tears sprang to your eyes. 

Your stomach began to growl. Hunger was a feeling that had been evading you in the months after Dean’s death. Every once in a while, it had begun returning to you. Maybe you were healing.

**** You were cursing Uriel every two seconds as you barrelled down the road after the Impala. With no idea where the boys were off to or when they’d return seeing as they’d taken their duffel bags, you had no choice but to follow. 

Everything about your current situation was foreign to you. You had no desire to partake in whatever hunt they were going on. All you wanted to do was make sure your boys— most of all, Dean— were okay. Such a blatant lack of empathy for whoever was in trouble was commonplace for you nowadays, but it still made your stomach turn. You had become so different from the person Dean fell in love with; even more of a reason for you to stay away from him. 

You followed the boys all the way down to Jackson, Mississippi. It looked like they were doing a wellness check. They weren’t in any form of a costume, and they knocked on the door of the person’s home they’d led you to. From the glimpse you got inside the window of the house the brothers were in, whoever lived there was good and dead. You assumed another hunter, given the circumstances. 

‘What the hell is going on here?’ you thought.

Night had fallen, allowing you to remain fairly inconspicuous as long as your headlights were off. While you waited a little while to begin following the Impala again, you sat back in your seat and closed your eyes. The next time you opened them, you felt a presence next to you. 

Jolting upright, you turned to face the passenger side of the car. “Corbett?!” you squeaked. 

“Hi,” he said, seeming far less timid than he was the first time you’d met him at the Morton house haunting. “ ‘S been a while.”

“Corbett, how are you—?” 

“Why’d you do it?” he asked evenly, cutting you off. 

“Do what? I didn’t do anything—”

He laughed bitterly. “Exactly. You didn’t do anything. You just let me die!” It was then the spirit of the shy Ghostfacer was on top of you in the driver’s seat with his hands around your throat. 

Gasping for your breath, you fumbled for the railroad stake you kept in your center console. Thankfully, you managed to get it out and swiped at Corbett’s ghost with it just as your vision began to blur. 

When he was gone, you just sat breathing heavily and trying to process what the hell had just happened. 

****

Given your little encounter with Corbett had lost you significant time on catching up to the Winchesters, you had to speed the rest of the way to Bobby’s house. Every slight sound and movement out of the corner of your eye had you on edge, and you clutched the railroad stake in one hand and the steering wheel with the other. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that you made it to the aging hunter’s house. You stayed hidden in the tree line with your sawed-off in hand, praying that Corbett didn’t return. You were so exhausted, scared, and paranoid, you hadn’t even given yourself a chance to process how and why Corbett was back. He’d been dead for over a year— and died in a completely different state from where he’d tried to kill you. Why would he be back for revenge in a place he wasn’t even murdered in?

Suddenly, you saw Meg through one of the second-floor windows of Bobby’s home. ‘No, it couldn’t be.’ But it was. She just had longer brown hair. And she was attacking Dean. 

‘C’mon, Sam,’ you mentally begged. ‘Where the hell are you?!’

You couldn’t stand to watch her knock him around anymore. In your rational mind, you wouldn’t have made your next move. You were terrified of facing him again. However, your declining mental state had you bursting through Bobby’s back door and shooting shot after shot at Meg’s ghost when you’d reached the top of the stairs. 

It seemed Dean’s brain stalled as he lay frozen on the ground, and yours did, too. Everything in you was screaming to run back out of the door before he could catch sight of you. But you remained frozen until it was too late. 

Dean pushed himself up on his elbow, wincing and turning to see who’d saved him. Your heart stopped when he breathed out, “(Y/N)?” 

Tears immediately flooded your eyes. “Hi, Dean.”

He scrambled to his feet. Various conflicting emotions crossed his face— anger, relief, betrayal, joy— and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. “And where the fuck have you been?” he asked when he’d gotten ahold of his facial expressions again. 

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

Dean laughed bitterly. “ ‘Sorry’ ain’t gonna cut it. Explain. Now.”

You cast your eyes to the floor. “I— I can’t.”

He huffed angrily. “You can’t?” He turned away from you, running a hand through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“Known what?” you returned, still unable to meet his eyes. 

“That I was alive? How long,” he demanded. 

Tension hung thick in the air as he awaited your answer. “I always knew.”

That disdainful, bitter laugh returned, and you couldn’t bear the way it made your heart squeeze in your chest. “I’m sorry, Dean,” you pleaded, tears flowing down your cheeks. “But it’s too complicated to explain.”

“ ‘Too complicated’? Or you just don’t give enough of a shit about me to even try,” he snapped. 

Your eyes snapped up to his. “No, it’s not like that, I- I promise. Everything I’ve done the last five months has been for you.”

“Really?” he deadpanned. 

“Really,” you nodded. “I know you have no reason to believe me—”

“You’re right,” he cut you off. “I don’t.” 

You held your head low in shame while you waited for Dean’s next words. 

His voice was considerably lower when he asked, “How long did they give you, huh? Six months? Less than that?”

“I didn’t make a deal, Dean,” you said, beginning to get frustrated with his accusatory tone; even though you could understand where he was coming from. 

“I still don’t believe you,” he said. 

“Well, it’s the truth,” you shot back.

Dean scoffed. “I don’t know why you’re gettin’ pissy with me, I’m not the one who abandoned family”

Your voice rose in anger. “I didn’t abandon you—!” 

“Then what do you call the last month, huh? ‘Cause if I knew you were back from the grave? Come Hell or highwater, I would’ve made it back to you,” he said gruffly.

“Don’t you think I wanted to?” you pushed. “I told you, it’s not that easy!”

“Then tell me, (Y/N). Tell me what could’ve possibly been so important that you couldn’t come back to me,” he demanded. 

You opened your mouth as if to start explaining but snapped it shut a second later.

Just then, Sam called, “Dean?!”

You turned down the stairs, hesitantly stepping closer to where your friend was waiting for his brother. When the younger Winchester’s eyes met yours, your stomach dropped. 

“(Y/N)?” he breathed out. 

“Hi, Sam,” you said quietly. 

“What— Where did you—”

Dean brushed past you to head toward the kitchen. “We don’t have time for this.”

Sam looked hurt. You could understand that. This was the third time you’d walked out on them. You hated yourself for making them feel abandoned over an angel you had no true loyalty to. 

When Bobby came in through the back door, he was both shocked and upset to see you. You were unfortunately becoming accustomed to that look. 

“Kid…” he trailed off, keeping his distance from you. 

“I know,” you said, idling near the front door. “I’m sorry.” You reached for the doorknob. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean grunted. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t stay,” you said, still staring at the ground. 

Dean laughed coldly. “Of course not. Do me a favor, huh?”

You looked up to him, eyes dewey. 

“Stay gone this time.”

Your heart sank. Bottom lip trembling, you bolted out of the door and back to your hiding spot in the trees behind Bobby’s house. Sitting down against the trunk of the tree, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes. You did your best to stifle your cries, but it was no use. 

When your cries turned to sniffles, you prepared yourself to climb back up the tree. However, a whooshing sound caught your attention. With your eyes bloodshot and wild, you spun around.

“Behind you, (Y/N),” a voice cooed. 

When you spun around, the source of the voice had disappeared. It wasn’t Corbett, and it wasn’t Meg… ‘What the hell is going on here?’

When you turned your head forward again, it was Nancy, the girl from the police station where you met Henriksen. You jerked back in surprise, taking a swipe at her with your iron stake. 

Her laughter echoed in your ears as she disappeared. Something had turned this very sweet girl into a callous, cold shell of the person she was. 

The next time she appeared in front of you, you noticed a symbol on her wrist. “What the hell are you?!” you cried, scrambling away from her on the ground trying to get to your sawed-off shotgun. 

“Why didn’t you save us?” she asked, stalking toward you. 

“I thought we did! Cut me some slack here, huh? I had no idea Lilith was coming your way,” you said. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” she spat through her teeth. “Do you know what she did to me?”

You just stared at her, clutching your shotgun and afraid of what she’d say. 

“She peeled my skin off. While I was still alive,” she sneered. 

“Nancy, I’m so sorry—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” she roared, lunging for her. 

You shot at her and braced for the impact in case she didn’t disappear. When you reopened your eyes, she was gone. 

The next thing you knew, you were pinned to the ground clawing at the hands around your throat. Corbett was back, and he was going to ensure he took you with him to the afterlife. 

Tears swam in your eyes as you tried with no avail to get him off you. Just as your eyes began to roll back in your head, the pressure around your throat went away. Breath filled your lungs once more through a big, heaving gasp. You coughed once, then twice, then sat up to see where Corbett had gone. 

No matter how much time passed after Corbett disappeared, your heart rate wouldn’t slow, and the pit in your stomach didn’t subside. Hesitantly, you made your way back to your stolen car to have some sort of safe space. You refilled your gun with rock salt rounds and sat up straight with your nerves feeling completely fried. Every small sound and movement of a woodland creature outside the car made you jolt. Even the wind made the hairs on your arm stand up.

The passing hours gave you time to think over how your “reunion” with the Winchesters had gone. You felt so incredibly guilty for making them feel like you didn’t care about them, but it was for their own good. You knew you would be putting them in danger they didn’t need by getting involved with them again. Still, that didn’t make you feel any better when the man you loved most in the world told you not to come back. 

Even thinking about those words made your heart squeeze in your chest. Tears sprang to your eyes, but you still tried your best to keep them at bay. If Corbett or Nancy came back, you wouldn’t exactly be having a therapy session with the two of them.

“Be not afraid, (Y/N),” a familiar voice said from beside you. “The Winchesters got rid of them.”

You clutched at your chest and squeaked out a yelp. When you realized it was only Uriel, you dropped your head back to the seat. 

“You gotta stop doing that, man,” you breathed out. 

“Excellent job with the witnesses,” Uriel told you evenly. 

“Wh— The witnesses?” you asked, tossing your shotgun into the backseat and turning to face Uriel. 

“Yes,” he nodded. 

You realized then that your mother had once read you the extended, ancient version of the book of Revelations that detailed the beginning of the apocalypse. “Holy shit,” you breathed out. 

“Ah, you do remember,” Uriel nodded. 

“What, do you have, like, access to my memory bank or something?” you questioned. 

“No,” he said. “But do you think it was coincidence that your mother had access to that book?”

You gave him a confused look. “What, have you always been involved in my life?”

“Like I told you, god has a plan for you.”

And with that, he was gone. 

****

You hadn’t been able to sleep a wink. All night, you scribbled in your journal everything you remembered about the version of Revelations your mother had read you:

“Revelations— the extended director’s cut,” you began. 

“- Recipe for the apocalypse (sp?):

66 seals

There’s a lot of options to choose from, but you only have to break 66 of them to free Lucifer from hell

Seven ‘published’ seals

The cries of martyrs

Plagues/electric storms

Last involves seven angels with seven trumpets dealing out seven plagues

“And it is written, that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood on behalf of Hell and his divine counterpart sheds blood on behalf of Heaven. As they break, so shall it break.”

Fuck you, uriel

The Rising of the Witnesses— ghosts forced to rise. Usually experienced violent deaths

Lilith, probably

Purposefully used spirits hunters couldn’t save? Dean with Meg; me with Nancy and Corbett? 

Natural disasters, ‘fiery skies’, Four Horsemen— all signs of the apocalypse

I am struggling so hard to remember specific signs

Oh!

The woman clothed with the sun

The Great Red Dragon (Satan)

The Land Beast with horns like a lamb

antichrist?

Something about a false prophet?”

You slammed your pen down in frustration and ran a hand through your hair. “Fuck,” you cursed. The hazy bits of Revelations that you did remember were absolutely horrible, and you were terrified of what was to come. If only you’d listened to your mother more closely when she used to read you those stories. 

Her methods of soothing you to sleep were unconventional to say the least. She read you and Steven books on demonology she plucked from local libraries or the Bible because your father believed that fairytales were a waste of your time. Your mother at least wanted you to be somewhat of a normal child and insisted on reading you some kind of bedtime stories. 

It was all getting to be too much for you to handle on your own. Everything in you desperately wanted to run that mile through the dark woods to Bobby’s house and throw yourself into Dean’s arms. It hurt you so badly to know that he didn’t want the same thing; in fact, he never wanted to see you again. 

If only he knew that everything you did, you’d done for him. You wanted to tell him about Uriel and the men you’d kidnapped and that you’d seen him in Hell every night. But a much more logical part of you drowned out those voices, reminding you that you were given a job to do. 

Maybe Uriel— and Heaven, by extension— needed you to be the Winchesters’ protector so they could stop the apocalypse from happening. As outlandish as that felt to even think about, you’d become accustomed to far weirder happenings in your life. Maybe when this was all over, you could tell Dean everything. 

A mocking phrase danced in your head that threatened that somewhat optimistic outcome: ‘If you even live long enough to see the end of this.’

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

Can I please get pregnant Bucky headcanons if you have them? 🥹 https://www.tumblr.com/avonne-writes/774220758667935744?source=share

Abso-freaking-lutely 🙌 That gif set has all of us in a chokehold 😄 As it should lol

Bucky absolutely uses the baby and puppy dog eyes as a deadly combo to get his way (i.e. driving 20+ minutes out of the way for milkshakes in the winter, getting out of a task, getting something for dinner absolutely no one else wants… etc)

He’s absolutely rolling over in the middle of the night, waking Gale up, and telling him that the baby wants something specific that Buck hates like McDonald’s fries. Yes, Gale gets out of bed at 2:30 AM and gets those fries while John falls back asleep and decides the baby didn’t actually want those fries when Buck gets back with them.

He has one hand on his belly at all times once the baby starts moving, almost like a reassurance that it’s real.

Bucky never stops talking to the baby. He’s narrating what he’s doing at all times, having full on one sided conversations, asking the baby its opinions… just never shuts up.

I think he’d be so excited the whole time, like not an ounce of worry, until right when he goes into labor and then has an existential crisis about whether or not he’s gonna be a good parent and starts bargaining with the baby to stay in a little while longer so he can read one more parenting book, meanwhile Gale is like “??? we need to go” but after a certain point he’d pull himself together and pull a whole “great under pressure” kind of attitude.

He’s already talking about the next one before the first one is even born.

He is a certified liability (tripping hazard, fall hazard… etc) when he does decide to do something by himself and it stresses Buck the hell out. It’s not because he’s careless he’s just excited and eager to do things and he forgets his center of gravity is a little different now sometimes.

When people ask him what they’re gonna name the baby, he gives increasingly whacky names to throw them off because he wants it to be a secret. Excerpt he really commits to the bit and their friends are low key a little worried he’s serious. At one point Brady approaches Gale for a possible intervention because “you guys can’t name your kid Meatball, Buck.”

John’s finding out the sex the second he’s able to.

I’m gonna stop here for now but I would so love to hear everyone else’s head cannons for pregnant Bucky ❤️

[wickerwax]

limited intel (Codywan First Kiss Bingo 1)

The rain is pounding on the thick plasti-canvas roof of the tent when he wakes, but it isn’t what wakes him.

Their make-shift war-room and bunk combo is quiet under the drumming water but the single cot next to his is empty, and one of the little motion activated lights by the entry flap is dimming. When he reaches a hand out, the misery-thin synthwool is still warm.

Condensation is sleeting the inside of the near wall of the tent.

Cody is considering his options when the cover flaps back and General Kenobi re-enters. He doesn’t seem to notice that Cody is awake and watching him, just walks to the table and sits heavily on one of the stools. Being that simply not moving has never once been a winning strategy against his General, Cody feels his curiosity and faint concern curdle into alarm.

His General’s broad shoulders slump, very slightly. His back rounds. His robe is damp. Cody watches a drop of water escape the thick wave of his hair to plink against the holotable.

“Sir,” he says, quiet, and watches Kenobi’s spine turn to beskar.

“Commander,” he responds, equally quiet. “All is well, the watch is undisturbed. You may continue to rest.”

Cody sits up. General Kenobi sighs. “Truly, Cody, nothing is wrong.”

“Respectfully, sir, but if that were true we would both be sleeping.” Cody is nettled enough to already be moving to his own stool at the table. He takes a close look at his General in the faint light of the renewed motion sensor but -

If it weren’t the middle of the night cycle, if he hadn’t woken suddenly and seen the faintest chinks in this man’s composure already, he would never have thought something was amiss. Kenobi is bright-eyed and steady, even the dampness curling his hair only making him look warmer and more real, the drip having ceased to be within moments.

He smiles at Cody. “Not so, Commander, for here we are. No alarms, no issues, just a spot of unexpected wakefulness.”

And it – it almost fits. Having woken for no real reason, his General would have checked with the watch that all was well. Might choose to sit and poke at the battle plans or flimsiwork for a bit if he had felt too awake to sleep.

His posture falling defeated though, just- doesn’t fit right. They’ve been in this together for over a year and he’s seen Kenobi in all manner of states but the man doesn’t lose his composure easily, doesn’t falter – has seen him beaten and bruised and all-but-unconscious from exhaustion and he simply moves with it all. The slump – the bend-

It doesn’t fit right at all.

He raises an eyebrow and Kenobi’s smile fades. He studies Cody across the table and he has never feared that bright, clear gaze but in this moment he does wonder what he sees. What he’s looking for.

He can only be what he is. Cody gazes back.

His General breathes out slowly. “Ah, Cody. This will sound foolish to you, no doubt, but it’s the rain.”

Another long look. Cody doesn’t react beyond a short nod. He waits.

Kenobi rests his chin on one hand and waits back. He finds himself studying the fan of his eyelashes when he looks down, the silver feathering in at his temples, the lines curling from his eyes to meet it. The sensor light blinks out, leaving them in the dark.

His patience is vast but it is not a Jedi’s. He breaks first. “It doesn’t sound foolish to me, sir.” Kenobi sighs. “Kamino was not a joyful place to grow up – you would not be the first in my experience to associate the rain with unpleasant things.” And it has to be that and not the noise level because he’s seen his General sleep through a Skywalker explanation – to Cody and Rex, since General Kenobi had been with Skywalker for the experience. He’s seen his General sleep through a Ghost Squad squatting competition then, and they only knew the meaning of quiet when it was mission-critical.

“Obi-Wan, if you would, Cody. Or Kenobi. We’re neither of us on duty, as far as that goes.” He makes a motion with his hand and something moves near the door. The sensor light blooms again. A piece of flimsi returns to the table.

He looks faintly pained and Cody can bend this much. “Kenobi, then,” he says, “but I still don’t think you foolish.”

He looks far too grateful for such a small thing, fingers smoothing his moustache as some tension Cody couldn’t have picked out before, but notes for its absence, leeches away.

“No,” he says, thoughtful. “No, you wouldn’t at that. Did Kamino ever have troubles with...flooding?”

“Flooding?” Cody repeats, because drowning, being washed away, the whip and crack of the storms being the last you see of anything – that’s familiar. The idea that the Kaminoans would allow the chaos of the storms to breech what they had deemed sterile? That- “Not as such. Not by rainfall.”

But he can’t imagine the Temple had a flooding issue either. Outside, the rain continues to beat down.

He frowns at his General, who has turned his face to the entrance flaps and is watching the small puddle forming there from his breaking the seal to check with the boys on watch. The furrow in his brows is too deep for what could be swept away, soaked up, by a wayward sock. ”Have you had experience with floods, si- uh, Kenobi?”

His General does not look back at him. “I have.” he says, barely audible above the thrumming background noise. “It is...an unkind way to wake. To lose shelter. Not the weather, you understand, but the-” he stops, sudden. His hand on the table clenches.

He does not pick up the sentence. Lets it hang, the drawn-breath tension of it rising as surely as water does.

Cody does not know what to do with this thread left unwoven and unclipped. General Kenobi’s face in the pale glow is still serene but his knuckles on one hand are white.

The light shuts off.

This time, Kenobi does not move to reset it.

In the dark, even his enhanced vision only barely makes out the shape of his General. He gets an impression of faint motion, makes out barelythe gentle rasp of hair on skin and suspects Kenobi is rubbing at his face on his off-side. “It’s late, Cody. We should get some more rest.”

Among his brothers, there is so much they don’t say. What is the point in saying most of it? They were bred and built for war and dying in it is expected. Personhood is – complicated. Talking is difficult.

But they lean, and hug, and wrestle. He has seen his General with other Jedi and certainly there is contact there too, if more reserved with an audience – but his General is not a public man, for all he is a public figure.

He reaches out and catches the hand still resting, tense, on the tabletop. General Kenobi catches his breath and Cody squeezes those chilled fingers. “We can rest now, and in the morning check our set-up for anything that might be vulnerable to the rain. We might need to, uh – dig-”

“Drainage.” Kenobi murmurs, and the table isn’t so big but he’s definitely imagining the warm breath on their joined hands – he knows that from the unmoving shadow. He imagines it anyway. He imagines it’s his own breath.

“Drainage.” Cody agrees. They don’t have a lot of building material spare but they’ll have something they can use to reinforce the bottom edges of things. They tend to set up their sites as carefully as possible given time and intel constraints – including elevation concerns – but sometimes being too high and visible is worse than the extra cover some measures lower down. They hadn’t been told to expect heavy rain but this planet isn’t a particular flood risk that he read. It’s worth checking anyway – for peace of mind.

At least it wasn’t pure dirt underfoot, they have growing ground-cover to help out with the ever-unpleasant mud possibility.

Kenobi’s hand turns in his and squeezes back. “Thank you, Commander.” he says and it’s – candle flickering in a window warm. It’s not having to requisition more armour – more men - because they didn’t lose anyone. It’s finding that Waxer saved him a serve of the good caf on a particularly crap morning.

Cody does not squeak. He might shift on his stool and the poor mass-produced thing complains at the motion.

“It’s...nothing, General. Kenobi.”

He gets another comforting squeeze, and then his General is loosening his grip, rising to stand and Cody follows him up, stepping around the table automatically – grabs at the relaxing hold without thinking about it and they’re not in the sensor field so-

He finds himself, abruptly, standing in the dark close enough to his General to feel the warmth of his body – no shielding armour in the middle of the night, no – still holding his hand.

“Cody,” Kenobi says, and he sounds amused, and this time the flutter of warm breath against his skin is not his imagination. If he could see-

If he could see he would have to turn himself in for reconditioning, probably. He can pretend, right now, that this is just a peculiarly vivid dream.

It’s not. It’s not a dream. Kenobi tilts his head and Cody knows because he knows him but also because the angle of the warmth against his face changes and he tightens his grip – little gods help him, he doesn’t mean to but he tightens his grip and-

Kenobi makes no move to pull away from him, allows him the trespass he is committing on his fingers -

A hand cups his cheek as his General sighs faintly. He strokes his thumb over Cody’s cheekbone and it burns, it sends a shudder working down his spine – he makes some kind of tiny, choking noise under the never-ending drum of rain. Kenobi seems to hear it anyway. He drops his hand from Cody’s face despite the gut that drops with it and says, “You don’t need to worry about me, my dear Commander. It is an old worry, and far less rational than I appreciate. All is well.”

All is not well. Cody now knows the touch of ‘sabre calluses on his cheek.

“Ken- Obi-Wan,” he says, hoarse. They are off-duty. He would forgive this intimacy. He is forgiving how Cody is clinging to their one real point of contact – he reached out as a comfort, and now cannot make himself give it up so soon. “Obi-Wan, I-”

He doesn’t know what he wants to say, and Obi-Wan’s hand twitches in his anyway.

“I want to help,” he finishes, helplessly. “I want to be – a comfort. To you.”

Impulsive, as this entire experience has been impulsive, he draws their hands up. He cannot see the hand his is wrapped around but he feels well enough to curl the fingers of his free hand around Obi-Wan’s wrist. The pulse there is drumming as fast as the rain overhead. Cody’s Jedi is not afraid, but he doesn’t dare think what he might otherwise be.

He lowers his face and presses his lips to the back of his own hand. Blind, he cannot see the expression on Obi-Wan’s face – knows it is one he has not seen before. Knows the not-seeing is a mercy. Knows he would not be able to forget it, when his hand jerks in Cody’s grip and his pulse spikes against Cody’s thumb. And Cody is so aware of how little he would have to move his lips to brush over his thumb – taste his skin, the faint salt he imagines there, the hard edge of his nail against his bottom lip. He breathes out, instead.

“I want to help,” he repeats against his own skin.

“You do, Cody.” It should not be a shock to hear his voice so close and so low. The rain and the dark have closed them in together, like passing secrets. “Every day, I swear it. You do.”

Neither of them can see but he feels those blue eyes on his skin all the same. Holds on to it even as he disentangles himself, lets Obi-Wan – lets his General go. As they move the few steps to the cots, as the rustling of sub-par blankets settles.

He strains his ears over the rain to hear his General breathing. Knows he isn’t asleep, not like that, not so fast. He sounds it though – deep and measured and even. Only – he’s shifting slightly in place, the blankets too scratchy to not betray it. Restless.

Cody finds himself curled with his hands tucked near his face. He listens, and listens, and listens, and if he kisses the back of his hand one more time – there’s no one there to see.

@codywanfirstkissbingo First up: sensory kiss

[sequinsmile-x]

You’ll Always Be a Flower on My Skin

It was a sadness that came around every year, something that he’d outrun for months and months until it caught up with him, stealing the breath from his lungs as it out-lapped him. He’d insist he was fine, as if she didn’t know him better than she knew herself and couldn’t see through his sad smile. 

As if she didn’t know it was Haley’s birthday. 

-x-

Hi besties,

I have no idea where this came from. I wanted to write sad Aaron and here we are 4k words later!!

I hope you like this, and as always please let me know what you think - comments feed the little elves in my brain that come up with insane fic ideas.

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: Pregnancy, grief

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron wasn’t sleeping. 

He was trying to hide it from her, but Emily knew. She’d get up in the middle of the night to pee, far too full of baby these days to make it through the night without needing to, and his side of the bed would be empty, the sheets cool to the touch, and she didn’t have to go and find him to know he would be in their home office. 

The first night, she’d sought him out. Had shuffled, definitely not waddled, to check on him, her hand pressed against her belly, their daughter rolling under her skin as she snuck past Jack and Lucas’s rooms, to find her husband. He’d gently admonished her the moment she stuck her head around the office door, his eyes wide as he immediately got up from his chair and ushered her back to bed, reminding her - as if she wasn’t the heavily pregnant one - that she needed to rest in the last couple of weeks before the baby was born. She’d fallen asleep again almost immediately, his fingers running through her hair as he laid one hand on her bump, and she was furious at herself the next morning when she woke up and he looked exhausted. 

Ever since then, in the almost week that had passed, she would wake up alone in the middle of the night. He’d always be there when she fell asleep, and he would be in the morning, his eyes tired and his smile sad as he told her he’d get her the one cup of coffee she was allowed a day. 

It was a sadness that came around every year, something that he’d outrun for months and months until it caught up with him, stealing the breath from his lungs as it out-lapped him. He’d insist he was fine, as if she didn’t know him better than she knew herself and couldn’t see through his sad smile. 

As if she didn’t know it was Haley’s birthday. 

They give Jack the option to not go to soccer camp, but he insists on going. It was his favourite summer activity. He loved spending the day with his friends learning about his favourite sport before coming home to spend the evening with his family. Emily was pleased he wanted to go, and all he asks is if they could go to Haley’s grave when he got home that evening to put down the card he’d written for her.  Emily and Aaron say of course, and then it’s like any morning in their home. Jack giggles, a sound that makes Emily ache on today of all days, as he watches Lucas eat his breakfast, more jam on the 3-year-old’s face and hands than he actually manages to eat. Aaron takes Jack to camp and kisses Emily as he leaves, promising that he’ll make sure the camp supervisor knows the importance of the day, his smile sad until she grabs his hand and presses it against her belly, a flicker of him, of her Aaron, flashing across his face when their little girl kicks. 

She blows out a slow breath as the front door closes, leaving her and Lucas alone in the house for the day. She frowns as she feels a tightening in her belly, and she groans as she places her hands on her lower back, shifting side to side as the pain rolls through her. She’d been having practice contractions for a couple of weeks now, and they somehow always managed to take her by surprise, the randomness of them allowing them to sneak up on her. 

“Mama okay?” 

She smiles as the contraction passes and looks over at Lucas, chuckling at the bright red jam spread across his cheeks and somehow in his hair. She walks over and kisses the top of his head before she lifts him out of the highchair, unable to cover a groan as she does so. 

“Mama’s okay, sweet boy,” she says, laughing when he kisses her cheek, leaving jam behind on her skin, “Thank you, Lukey,” she adjusts her hold on him, making sure he’s comfortable on her bump, “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

The morning passes quickly, lost in a flurry of activities to keep Lucas entertained, and practice contractions that she barely has time to focus on. She texts Aaron to ask if he wants them to come to meet him for lunch, and he replies so quickly with a yes it makes her ache, his desperation to see his family enough to let her know how much he is struggling. Lucas is delighted at the idea of seeing his father, and she loads him into the car, smiling at the sight of the baby’s car seat next to his that Aaron had put in the car just a few days ago. 

When they make it to Quantico, she ushers Lucas past the security desk, exchanging smiles with the guards she’d known for years, and she lets him press the button in the elevator.

“Want Mommy to carry you, baby?” She asks, pushing her fingers through his dark hair and he shakes his head, his brow furrowing in a way that makes him look exactly like Aaron. 

“She’s the baby,” he says, pointing at her belly, “I’m a big boy.”

She presses her lips together to stop herself from laughing and she nods, running her fingers through his hair again. She was looking forward to meeting her daughter, but it was strange to get her head around the fact Lucas would soon enough no longer be her youngest, that she’d have to split her focus between Jack and Lucas and the little girl kicking her in the ribs. 

“Sorry, you’re right,” she replies, smiling when the doors open and she waits for him to leave the elevator first, “Let’s go find Daddy.” 

She walks in pace with Lucas and smiles widely when the team notices them, all of them except Aaron gathered around JJ’s desk as they debated what to get for dinner. 

“Look, it’s Mini Hotch and Princess,” Derek says, his smile getting wider as Emily rolls her eyes at his nickname for her son. He leans down and offers his hand to Lucas for a high five, his smile getting wider as the toddler hits his hand against his as he makes a big deal of the little boy’s strength, “What are you two doing here?”

“Wanna see Daddy,” Lucas says, and Emily ruffles his hair as she looks up at her friend. 

“We’re going for lunch with Aaron,” she explains and her friends nod. 

“Maybe you can cheer him up,” Dave jokes, “He’s been in a terrible mood all day.” 

She immediately feels protectiveness for her husband roll through her when the rest of them hum in agreement, anger moving in tandem with her little girl, and she has to remind herself that they won’t know what day it is. They won’t know it’s Haley’s birthday because Aaron always did his best to make it something that was just for their family. A private, strange kind of grief that didn’t seem to fade as time went on. If anything, it grew with them, was somehow bigger every time it rolled around, a stark reminder that as they got older, Haley didn’t. She was forever frozen in time in the home she had once shared with Aaron and Jack. 

JJ must hear the sharp intake of breath that Emily sucks in, and she stands up, rolling her seat back, offering it out for Emily to sit down and she nods gratefully, “Thanks.” 

“Don’t worry,” JJ says, winking at her, “I remember the point you’re at. Everything’s exhausting.” 

She chuckles, groaning as she sits down, her hands on top of her bump as she tries to get comfortable, grateful that the conversation has moved on without any digging from their friends about her husband’s mood, “I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night.” 

“Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to be on maternity leave?” Dave asks and she hums as she looks over at him and nods her head towards Lucas who was trying to help himself to the candy in Derek’s desk drawer. 

“It’s less relaxing this time around for some reason,” she quips, and she hears Aaron’s office door open, the squeak to the handle a sound she’d recognise anywhere, and she sees Lucas look up too, his smile wide as he abandons Derek in a second. 

“Daddy!” He says, stopping in place as he turns to look at Emily, looking for permission to seek his father out, and she nods. 

“It’s okay, go to Daddy,” she says, and she keeps an eye on him until he makes it to Aaron just as he makes it to the bottom of the stairs. She smiles softly as she watches her husband smile as he picks up their little boy. She hears Derek comment that it’s the first time Aaron has smiled all day, something that’s followed by a laugh from Dave, and she turns to look at them, her arms crossed over the top of her bump. “You’d better not be making fun of my husband.” 

“You make fun of him all the time. How come you’re allowed to but we’re not?” Derek asks, his smile turning into a challenging smirk, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Because I’ve grown two of his children with my body,” she quips, “The second you can do that, you can make fun of him.” She looks over and watches as Aaron walks over, Lucas on his hip, matching smiles on their faces that never failed to make her smile too. She feels a tightening in her belly again, and she winces and rubs her bump, waving off Aaron’s immediate concern as he makes it to her side, one of his hands on her shoulder, “I’m fine,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, “Baby Girl Hotchner is just letting me know she’s as ready for her to come out as I am.” 

“You’re really not going to give us a hint on the name?” Derek asks, cutting off Aaron’s attempt to check on her, and she shakes her head and relaxes as the contraction passes.

“No, because where would the fun be in telling you when you want to know so badly,” she looks up at her husband, “Are you ready to go?” 

He nods and offers her a hand to help her up, providing her his strength as she stands up and she squeezes his hand once she’s on her feet, linking their fingers together as she tries to give him her strength too, hoping that somehow, the simple press of her palm against his will remind him of just how much he’s loved.

___

By the time the boys are in bed, it feels like it’s been a long day. 

Aaron sighs as he sits on the couch, his head in his hands before he sits back, his eyes closed as he sucks in a breath, desperately hoping the smell of home would comfort him. 

He’d known Haley for longer than he hadn’t. He’d celebrated her birthday with her for longer than he hadn’t. Even after the divorce he’d marked the occasion. Had taken a tiny Jack to buy a card and a gift he knew Haley would love, his knowledge of her something he could only channel through their son. It was the same thing he now did with the love he had for her. He made sure Jack knew he’d come from love, that despite the fact his mother was gone and she and Aaron hadn’t been together anymore, that hadn’t taken away from the love that had created their family. 

Usually, he could go weeks, months even, these days without feeling the weight of the guilt he carried for Haley’s death. Then an anniversary would come around -  a date that marked her death, their wedding anniversary, her birthday - and it would feel like he was right back at the start. Pulled under by grief he thought he’d learnt to swim in, the waves of it overpowering him until he felt like he was barely hanging on. 

In his worst moments, he was jealous of Jack’s ability to function. He was sad, his smile never quite reaching his eyes on days like this, but he was able to carry on. His mother’s absence a part of his life he’d lived with for longer than he’d had her, something he was so used to that it allowed him to speak of it candidly. His innocence somehow still intact as he’d explain to a stranger that Emily was his mom now, but that his first mom was in heaven. 

Aaron knew his son’s memories of Haley were hazy, that most of what he knew now was because of stories he and Jessica would tell him. Even Emily would tell him stories, would tell him all about the time she’d spent with Haley in the time she knew her. Jack was so young when it happened, only a little older than Lucas was now, and it would make Aaron freeze at times. Would make him choke on preemptive grief as he thought about Lucas or his little girl who was still safely in Emily’s belly living without their mother like his eldest had learnt how to. It’s a thought Aaron can’t escape. A thought that tormented him in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, the sound of Emily’s breathing a white noise he tried to cling on to as he tried, and failed, to rest. He’d get out of bed and sneak into the boy's rooms to watch them sleep for a little while before he went to his office, telling himself that he’d get some work done when he knew he’d just sit at his desk and go over and over everything he could have done to save the woman he’d loved since he was a teenager. 

“I have a feeling we will have a toddler in our bed by morning,” Emily says as she walks into the living room, her smile tired as she walks towards him.

He smiles and stands up, one hand in hers and the other around her shoulders as he helps her sit down, “Did he go down okay?” 

She nods and tugs him to sit back down with her, “He kept pretending he wasn’t tired but he fell asleep halfway through Goodnight Moon,” she places her hand on her bump, rubbing a circle over where their daughter is moving, “I checked in on Jack on my way past his room, he’s reading his book.” 

Aaron nods, his lips pressed together tightly as he clears his throat, “He seemed okay?” 

She hums and runs her fingers through his hair, offering him comfort in the same way he’d watched her do with their sons countless times, “He’s okay. He asked me how you’re doing.” 

He sighs, shaking his head at himself as he clenches his jaw, “I didn’t do a very good job of hiding it, huh?” 

She cups his cheek and makes him look up at her, “Give yourself a break, he’s a smart kid. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he knows it’s okay for days like today to be hard.” 

He nods and clears his throat, “Yeah.” 

They drift into silence and she watches him carefully before she reaches out and squeezes his hand, “Usually I’d offer to be the big spoon in bed tonight,” she says, her smile soft when he looks at her again, “But I think there’s far too much baby in the way for that to work.” 

He chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in his chest, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved her more as she makes him laugh on a truly impossible day, “I’d settle for a hug. If that’s okay.”

She rolls her eyes at him and encourages him closer, tugs him towards her until his head is on her chest and she wraps her arms around him, his cheek against her collarbone, the place where he always felt the most at home, “You never have to ask.”

He’s unsure how long they sit like that, how long he lets himself be soothed by the sound of her heart, how it seems to beat in tandem with his, but he loses himself in her just like he always did. Drawn in by her smile and her love, the way she fiercely looks after him and their children. He feels, more than hears, the groan she suppresses against the top of his head. He feels her belly harden against him, their little girl pressed between the two of them, and he pulls back, his eyebrows knitting together as he looks at his wife. 

“Em…are you having contractions?” 

She shakes her head, even though they both know she’s lying, “Just Braxton Hicks,” she says, not sounding overly sure she believes that herself, “It’s fine.” 

“How frequent are they?” He asks, his hand on her belly as he feels the contraction pass as the tension seeps out of her body. 

“Uh, on and off all day?” She replies, scrunching her nose up, “Mostly on since we left the cemetery.” 

His eyes go wide, and any sadness he’d felt all day pushed down so he can look after his wife, “Em, why didn’t you say anything? We need to go to the hospital-”

“No,” she insists, “It’s fine. This isn’t labour. I would know. I’ve done it before,” she says, a smile fixed on her face that she usually kept aside for her mother, and any response he’s trying to cook up is gone the moment she groans again, her face screwed up in disgust, “Fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, cupping her cheek and making her look at him as she stares down at her bump. 

“I’m in labour. My waters just broke.” 

He looks down at her lap, as if he’d see anything through her black leggings or on their dark grey couch, and then back up at her, “Are you sure?” 

She rolls her eyes at him like she wasn’t just the one who was insisting she wasn’t in labour, “Well, it’s either that or I’ve just peed on the couch.”

He stares at her for a beat, and she stares back and then he springs into action, standing up as he grabs his phone from the coffee table, “I’ll call Jess to come to stay with the boys.” 

___

When the doctor tells her she’s already 5cm dilated when they arrive, she realises just how strong her denial has been. 

She’d sat on a bench in the cemetery and tried to breathe through the pain, Lucas pressed up against her side as Jack and Aaron knelt at Haley’s grave, softly speaking to her as they laid cards and flowers in front of her headstone. The contractions Emily had been wilfully ignoring all day were suddenly in an undeniable pattern, but she didn’t say anything to Aaron when he asked if she was okay, too focused on the tears shining in his eyes to tell him that she was in labour. 

When she had Lucas, her labour lasted for over a day. She’d expected the same this time, had thought she’d have time so she didn’t have to give birth on her husband’s dead ex-wife’s birthday, so she kept it to herself. Clenched her teeth through the contractions she knew were going to get worse as they had dinner as a family. She knew on any other day Aaron would notice sooner than he had, but he was distracted by his and Jack’s grief. 

She thought she’d have time, that she’d make it to at least midnight until she had to tell him, but it seems her little girl had other plans, keen to enter the world as soon as possible. 

Poppy Hotchner is born at 10.59 pm, and she comes into the world screaming, furious at the world until she’s put on her mother’s chest, finding solace in the same place Aaron had just a few hours earlier. By the time both Emily and Poppy have been checked over by the doctor and the three of them are left alone it’s close to midnight. 

“I can’t believe she’s here.” Emily says, tearing her eyes away from Poppy just for a moment to look at her husband, “She’s beautiful,” 

“Of course she is,” he says, leaning in to kiss Emily’s temple, “She came from you.” He looks at Poppy and smiles, reaching out to run his knuckles down her cheek, “You surprised us, sweetpea. You weren’t supposed to come until next week,” he smiles softly, “You just wanted to join the fun, huh?” 

“As the person who just pushed her out, I’ve got to say you and I have a very different idea of what is fun, honey,” Emily quips, lifting Poppy to kiss her head, taking in a moment to breathe in her sweet smell, “This isn’t how I thought today was going to end when I woke up this morning.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles and nods, swallowing thickly when he thinks of the sorrow that the day had started with in comparison to the joy of how it had ended. It was strange, a much needed reminder that sadness and happiness could co-exist. 

“I…I didn’t want her to be born today,” she admits, her cheeks burning pink with embarrassment because of how stupid it feels now she has her daughter in her arms, “I know today is hard for you. I didn’t want to make it harder.” 

The guilt is immediate as it washes over him, the froth of it catching in his lungs as his chest stutters, “Oh sweetheart,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to worry about that.”

“I’m your wife,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “worrying about you is part of the gig.” 

He hums and runs his thumb back and forth over Poppy’s head, tracing the swirl of her dark hair. He thinks of another life where Haley lived and would be one of the many people desperate to meet Poppy. He imagines the way she’d smile at having to share her birthday, how she’d tell Poppy she was happy to share the limelight with her. He wasn’t sure if he believed in much. He didn’t know with any certainty that there was life after death, that anyone was watching over them with soft smiles and kind eyes, but he did believe in love. It had saved him more than once, had brought him back from the abyss, so he knew that in some way, somehow, Haley would love his family because she would always be a part of it. 

“I think she’d get a kick out of this.” 

Emily looks at him, her face so close to his that her nose skims across his cheek, “Haley?”

“Yeah,” he says, tearing his gaze away from the newborn, “I think in some strange way it’s her way of telling me to not be sad on her birthday anymore.” 

Emily hums thoughtfully and rests her forehead against his temple, “I have an idea for a middle name for her.”

They’d settled on Poppy the moment they knew they were having a girl, a name they both loved that referenced the size she’d been when they first found out she existed. Aaron had called her his little poppy seed ever since, and it had stuck. The middle name had been harder. Emily didn’t want to pass on Elizabeth, to give her daughter the name she shared with her own mother, and even when Poppy had been placed on her chest she still didn’t have a solid idea. Then it had come to her, as if it floated in on the air, caught in amongst the love the room was stuffed full of, brought in on the small breeze of grief that curled around them, a reminder of just how precious life is that she wanted to make sure she never forgot. 

“Yeah?” 

She pulls back to look at him, “I thought we could use Brook,” she says, her confidence fading as his expression softens, a flash of the sadness he’d been plagued with for weeks, “We don’t have to-”

“No,” he says, his smile shaking as he pulls her in for a kiss and then rests his temple on top of her head, both of them looking at their little girl, “It’s perfect.” 

[blueberrymori]

✭warnings/tags: MALEreader (made with an FTMreader in mind), a little angst I think, happy ending, angst to fluff? ,sleep deprived reader, mention of fainting, hugs and affectionate nicknames. ✭synopsis: When Dick's boyfriend refuses to sleep, he thinks of the best way to help him.

Dick knew about your sleeping difficulties, he had witnessed you refusing to sleep and working on your projects and plans to help the team or anything else that kept you awake.

Dick was worried about you not keeping up during the day, when you were leaning on the walls to keep up, but what made him take action and not leave you up all night, and try to get you to sleep at least two hours a night, was seeing you pass out in the middle of the day.

Dick that day put you in his room, sat next to you sighing as he stroked your cheek, spent the afternoon in his room keeping an eye on you, and researching how he could help you. 

A few days later Dick had bought extra pillows, he put them on the bed and took your hand leading you to the bed, he lay down and patted the mattress for you to lie down.

-Dick, I don't know, I don't think that's the best idea - his sleepy voice made Dick sit up and smile at you, opening his arms and inviting you in again.

- You don't need to sleep, love, just stay here for a while, relax a bit, your body needs to relax- Dick said, waiting for you to lie down next to him.

When you sat down next to him, he pulled you onto his lap and held you close. - How are you? Comfortable? - Dick said as he kissed your forehead.

-It's okay, Dick, it's okay. - His voice was sleepy, he knew you'd fall asleep soon, so he moved his hand to your hair, he stroked your head as he watched your eyes grow heavy. - Dick - he knew what was coming next, so he whispered, cutting you off.

- It's okay, I'm here with you and I'm not leaving until you wake up, baby, you can close your eyes - he pulled you close and held you, Dick was calmer when he felt his breathing become regular, he felt happy, he had managed to get you to sleep, he knew that for that night everything would be okay.

[am-i-interrupting]

Heyyy, how are you? And could you please write young silco x sick reader headcanons, I hope you have a lovely rest of your day :)

He is likely the first to notice something is wrong.

He’s a very observant man, after all.

Very quick to insist that you take time off in order to recover faster.

If you’re one of the stubborn people who will try to refuse, he has no qualms gloating when you’re bed ridden.

A little taunting, “it wouldn’t have gotten this bad if you’d simply listened to me.”

At your bedside the entire time though.

He’s built up a fairly strong immune system so it’s better him watch over you than Felicia or Vander who will both get sick and Vander would be a big baby about it.

He’s got a cool towel for a fever on standby.

He’s gathered all the blankets so you can get the most comfortable one.

He will attempt to make you easily digestible foods but will get distracted while doing so by checking on you.

Vander or Felicia get out on that instead.

He’s bringing you water.

If you’re throwing up, there’s a bucket and he will hold back your hair.

If your hair is long enough, he’ll offer you his hair tie.

He may forget to take care of himself a little.

Expect to have to remind him to grab two servings of food and water.

He will fall asleep in a chair next to your bed.

If you wake up in the middle of the night though and shake him, he may be tempted to crawl into bed with you. To prevent his neck and back from hurting, of course.

[spookymultimedia]

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife And when you think about me, all of those years ago You're standing face to face with "I told you so"

[capricornsims]

Jenny and Lyla are best friends no matter what kind of feud is happening between their husbands. Either way, they get together and plan to raise their babies to be best friends like they are. Lyla spends most of her time at the Smith house, and PT9 is more than happy to cook for all of them.

Also, this is part 2 of my last post.

[queermccoy]

imagine you are a lesbian. imagine you are a lesbian and you love your gf. imagine you are a lesbian and your now ex gf is seeing a man with traditional values. imagine you are a lesbian and your ex gf is a tradwife.

you are max from black sails

[paintinganangel]

Chappell Roan performing Good Luck Babe at Bonnaroo Festival

[ana-md-rwby]

ThunderKatt Angst Idea: Renora but Neon has an unrequited crush on Nora

[auntiejohn]

i genuinely don't think i'll ever get over the good luck, babe! bridge