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writethelifeyouwant · 2 years

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Birthday Surprise

Summary: When Y/N is hurt on a hunt, it’s not major, but she still decides to stay home in the Bunker to recover instead of joining Sam and Dean on the next one. Down a person, and needing some magical assistance, the boys enlist the help of Rowena. Dean is brooding the entire hunt, blaming himself for Y/N’s injury, and nearly getting himself hurt due to his distraction. Rowena, fed up with Dean’s baggage, decides to give the man an early birthday present in the hopes of making him feel better about everything.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: kinda sorta dub-con? Tags: brooding Dean, Dean’s self-loathing, Sam & Rowena bromance, the gift of knowledge, the consequences of knowledge, unintended consequences, masturbation, public masturbation (kind of), simultaneous orgasms, kissing, implied oral sex, surprise fluff Word Count: 5,432 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomkinkbingo - “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” | @spndeanbingo - Childhood Sweethearts | @supernatural-jackles TMAS - Dean Winchester

A/N: Commissioned by the wonderful @pink-sparkly-witch 💖 the idea is her brainchild and what a fun idea it is!

“You boys go, I’m fine,” Y/N stresses again as she pushes Sam and Dean out the door and into the garage.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? Because I can stay, and we can call Jody and Don–” Dean offers for what has to be the fourth or fifth time, but Y/N shuts him down yet again.

“Dean, I swear to God,” she groans, dragging a hand down her face in advert irritation. “It’s literally a sprained ankle. I have an Ace bandage, I have ice, I have Advil. I’m just not in the mood to stay cooped up in a motel room while you two run around saving the world. I’d much rather stay in the bunker where I have Netflix and a clean bathtub.” And with that, Y/N pokes Dean in the ribs abruptly so that he yelps and jumps backwards, landing just far enough away that she can swing the door closed behind the brothers Winchester with a resounding thump.

\Now, time to see about that bath, she muses to herself as she hobbles back through the bunker. And maybe another cup of tea.

“Hello, boys,” Rowena greets Sam and Dean as the door to their motel room opens for her, Sam standing to one side courteously and swinging his arm wide in invitation for the witch to enter. “How are you, Samuel?” She greets the taller of the brothers with a smile, and Sam bends down dutifully to allow her to kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Good, Rowena, thanks,” he smiles easily. “How you been?”

“Oh, well enough,” Rowena waves idly, setting down her bag and lowering herself elegantly onto the rickety wooden chair that Sam has pulled away from the table for her. “And you, Dean?” She raises her voice ever so slightly and calls out curiously, leaning forward to better see around the partition that divides the room’s amenities from the beds.

Dean is lying back on one of the beds, atop the puce-green paisley quilt, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. His head is tilted back against the brim of the headboard, his eyes shut in feigned rest, and he hadn’t moved a muscle since the witch arrived, however, it was still obvious that he wasn’t asleep, simply ignoring their present company.

“Just peachy,” the eldest brother grunts, eyes remaining stubbornly shut. Rowena rolls her own eyes towards Sam in exasperation, as if to say ‘what bee’s gotten in his bonnet’? Sam shoots a tight-lipped look of disdain toward his brother and then shifts a look of apology to Rowena.

“He’s grumpy because Y/N’s back at the bunker with a minor injury, and he’s blaming himself for no reason,” Sam stage whispers, as if he’s trying to spare Dean’s feelings but knowing full well the other man can hear him, which Dean illustrates by flipping Sam the bird from his still-unmoving position on the bed.

“Oh,” Rowena frowns sympathetically. “Is the poor dear alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Sam chuckles under his breath. “Dean just has a complex about everything being his fault when she’s on a hunt with us.”

“It’s not a complex if it’s actually my fucking fault,” Dean hisses under his breath, but Sam chooses to ignore him for the present in favour of catching Rowena up to speed on their present predicament.

There have been a string of strange deaths in the town of Jenson, Kentucky and Sam and Dean have a strong suspicion after speaking with some of the locals that it has to have something to do with the collection of colonial artefacts that had recently been unearthed from storage and put on display for the town’s founding anniversary. The early settlers of the area were largely Scottish, and just possibly, some of Rowena’s old acquaintances. Maybe even friends or distant relatives–her grandson had tried to make the crossing to America after all, if unsuccessfully. Sam knows that Rowena recognising the names on the original town charter and settlement rolls is a long shot, but with Y/N back at the bunker and no real clue what they were dealing with yet, he thought it was at least worth a shot to see if Rowena was amenable to helping them out. And they’re in luck.

She and Sam collect their things and head out to visit the historical society library, where they can have a look at the documents, leaving Dean to sulk on his lonesome for the time being.

“If you decide you want to cheer up and actually help, give me a call,” Sam slaps Dean’s booted feet by way of a farewell.

Dean grunts unenthusiastically but knows he needs to pull himself together. He doesn’t want Sam all on his own if whatever’s been killing people turns up where he happens to be going. “Call me if you find something,” he shouts after Sam. “Don’t let her turn you into a frog or whatever.”

“Charming, Dean,” Rowena grimaces lightly, too proud to stoop to the bait, and waltzes her way out of the motel room. “Come along, Samuel.”

Dean makes a silent whipping motion in retaliation that makes Sam feel a strong urge to stick his tongue out at his older brother, but he quashes down the immature impulse and settles for an unimpressed look before he grabs his shoulder bag and follows Rowena outside, the motel room door slowly drifting closed behind him.

Y/N putters around the bunker on her hobbled ankle easily enough. Sure it still hurts if she puts her entire weight on it or bends the ankle too far to the side, but the injury is really more of a nuisance at this point than an actual pain. If she continues her regime of keeping it elevated with an ice pack for a few hours a couple of times a day she thinks she’ll be up and running again in no time.

Glancing at her phone while she waits for the water in her pot to boil on the stove, Y/N wonders what Sam and Dean might be up to right now. They’ve been gone a few days already, and she knows Sam called Rowena in two days ago for some extra backup because he suspects the thing making the unsuspecting Kentuckians disappear may be magical, Scottish, or likely, both. Sam and Rowena have an odd kinship, sort of like what Dean has with Cas when he joins them for a hunt from time to time. Y/N likes Rowena just fine, and in reality, so does Dean, but he pretends not to. Given their rocky history, Y/N doesn’t blame Dean one bit, and honestly, it’s quite funny watching him go all grumpy whenever she’s around. His grumpy pout is equal parts cute and sexy in Y/N’s eyes.

Reasoning that it’s been a few hours since Dean had texted her to say that they were heading out into the woods to find the original dig site of the artefacts that they think might be causing the unexplained sidewalk drownings, Y/N decides it’s not too clingy to give her boyfriend a call. Just to get an update. She’s not worried or anything. The water comes to a boil with an advertising bubbling over onto the stovetop, producing a shrill hiss as the foam hits the open gas flames tickling the bottom of the pot, and Y/N quickly jumps into action, putting in the pasta and turning on the extractor fan to keep down the bubbles. Dinner now safely progressing again, she grabs her phone and flips it open to recent calls, hitting Dean’s name and letting it ring.

“Hello?” Her boyfriend’s gruff, slightly tinny voice answers the call after a few rings.

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks quickly, an edge of concern in his tone, and Y/N can’t help rolling her eyes.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one out hunting ancient Scottish fishing equipment or whatever,” she scoffs lightly, and Dean chuckles under his breath. Y/N can imagine how his cheeks might blush a little under his stubble as he responds.

“You know I worry about you when we’re gone. Fuck knows what’s hiding in some of those old boxes.”

“Well, there’s a comforting thought,” Y/N smirks to herself. “I’m fine, Dean. Promise. I just wanted to see how it was going with you guys.”

“Sam and witch-bitch have me out here spelunking through hillbilly backcountry looking for rusty fish hooks that are just as likely to kill me as give me tetanus, so you, I’m awesome,” Dean groans. It sounds like he might have found somewhere to sit down for a minute, and Y/N thinks she can hear running water in the background too.

“You’re going through caves on your own?” she raises an eyebrow unhappily. “You guys should really stick in a group if you’re going into Appalachian caves, it’s really easy to get lost up there.”

“Caves?” Dean asks.

“You said you were spelunking, that means cave exploring,” Y/N points out.

“Oh, well,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m doing whatever the river version of that is, then. No caves, don’t worry.” The running water in the background makes a little more sense now. “And we’re not really split up. I can see Sam’s antlers further upstream, we’re just spread out a bit to cover more ground.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound so bad the–AHH!” Y/N yelps in shock as the pasta water bubbles over again, making an evil hissing noise and splashing a bit of the boiling water onto the hand she had leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Y/N!? What’s wrong?!” Dean demands, his voice suddenly serious and sharp as iron.

“It’s fine,” Y/N pants, quickly turning down the gas on the stove and grabbing something to stir the pot with in order to dissipate the bubbles. “It’s fine,” she repeats, a little less breathlessly. “I let the water boil over and it startled me. It’s fine.”

“Y/N…” Dean growls, warning her that she had better not be lying to him.

“Telling the truth! I promise,” she giggles. “You’re just distracting me from cooking, as usual.”

“Well, I am very distracting,” her boyfriend responds in an instantly flirty manner like it’s an automatic response he has no control over. Sometimes Y/N thinks he really doesn’t.

“Yes, you are,” she agrees, teeth sinking into her lower lip thoughtfully. “Maybe when you’re done spelunking later tonight you can distract me some more. Netflix is getting boring.”

“Oh, is that so?” Dean grins, his cocky smile practically visible even over the phone. “You need something different to concentrate on tonight, sweetheart? Something a little more… entertaining?”

“Well, if you’re not too busy,” Y/N shrugs even though she knows he can’t see her, trying to play it off as if she’s not overly eager for the attention. Downright desperate would be a better description actually, but Dean doesn’t need that ego boost just now.

“Oh, for you baby, never too…” Dean trails off. Y/N hears a splash, and what might be a garbled shout in the distance. “I’ve gotta go.”

The line goes dead, and Y/N stands mutely in front of the pasta. It’s nearly ready, but she’s not really hungry anymore.

Dean helps Sam limp back through the motel door, the taller brother’s arm slung over Dean’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around Sam’s waist, carefully avoiding the gash in his side. Rowena glides along behind them, unconcerned as if she’s bored by the proceedings. Goddamn Kelpie had gotten the jump on Sam while Dean had been on the phone to Y/N. Yet another injury that can be added to the list of things that are Dean’s fault.

Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the bed while Dean goes for the whiskey and the first aid kit, and Rowena sits opposite Sam on the other bed, giving him a sympathetic once-over.

“Does it sting, dearie?” she asks as Sam peels off his t-shirt, wincing when the cotton unsticks itself from his skin where the blood has already dried.

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, raising a brow at the witch. “How’d you know.”

“Kelpies have highland nettle essence in their tails,” she explains sagely in her lilting voice. “Getting whipped with the end isn’t fatal, but it’ll sting and itch something fierce for a while.”

“Great,” Dean grunts, kneeling in front of Sam to inspect the wound. He uncorks the bottle of whiskey with his teeth and splashes a little over the area to wash off the tacky blood. Sam grunts, biting back the pain, and Dean’s face twitches in a conflicted mash of a smirk and a grimace; half big-brotherly pride, half big-brotherly guilt.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam huffs in exasperation, noticing the look on his brother’s face.

“If I hadn’t been on the phone–” Dean begins to argue, already beating himself up, but Sam cuts across him angrily.

“No! Cut the crap, Dean! You were at least a hundred yards away when the thing grabbed me. You wouldn’t have stopped its tail slicing me if you hadn’t been on the phone unless you can teleport like Cas and forgot to tell me about it,” Sam raises a stern brow in challenge and Dean almost lets himself be cowed but tries again to protest.

“I was distracted worrying about Y/N, if I hadn’t wandered so far away then maybe I’d have gotten back quicker,” Dean reasons.

“And maybe the Kelpie would have gotten the jump on you instead’a me? Is that what you’re sayin’?” Sam asks angrily. Dean merely shrugs, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he roots through the first aid kit looking for gauze and medical tape. “Dean, we’re both hunters here. We’re both shouldering the risks of going after these things. And it’s the same with Y/N. She knows the risks of hunting and she takes responsibility for herself when she’s out here with us. You’re not going to be the only one to ever get hurt while we’re hunting, and quite frankly you shouldn’t be, otherwise, you’d probably be dead. It’s not like these are serious hurts, I don’t even need stitches!”

“Y/N is in this because of me,” Dean growls defensively as if Sam’s suggestion that he’s not responsible for every little paper cut anyone around him gets is actually offensive. “She never woulda known about hunting or monsters or been around any of that crap if we weren’t together, so anything that happens to her is on me. And anything that happens to my little brother? Of course, that’s on me too!”

“Tell you what is gonna be your fault, is when I punch you in the face in a minute for being such an idiot!” Sam scolds Dean, tearing the first aid kit away from him in irritation to finish tending to his own wound. “Go call Y/N so she knows nobody died. She’s probably worrying her head off right now.”

Dean glares at Sam but ceases arguing, hauling himself up from the floor between the beds and stomping outside to call Y/N and let her know they’re all okay. Mostly. Sam rolls his eyes at the back of the slamming door as Dean exits to the parking lot, and the shake of Rowena’s red curls catches his attention.

“What?” he asks, eyeing her contemplative look with a hint of apprehension.

“Oh, nothing,” she sighs heavily. “I was simply lamenting the fact that he feels so burdened by it all.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam scoffs, wincing a little as he spreads some antibiotic ointment over his cut. It’s not deep, but it is beginning to itch like a motherfucker. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. And Y/N is just as capable. I think he’s worried that deep down we secretly blame him too, or something. But I guess there’s no way to convince him we don’t if he doesn’t want to believe it.” The younger brother shrugs in resignation.

“Oh…I don’t know about that,” Rowena muses. “A way for him to know that you two don’t blame him, you say?”

“Yeah…” Sam looks at the witch hesitantly while a smile blooms across her rose-pink lips.

“His birthday is next week, right?” she checks and Sam nods affirmatively. “I may just pop out and get you boys something for dinner. And maybe a little treat, as an early birthday celebration.”

“Rowena–” Sam stands and starts to go after her, but she holds up a hand to stop him.

“It’s nothing nefarious, Samuel. It’s a simple spell, temporary. He’ll never know until it kicks in.”

“Until what kicks in?”

“It’s a sort of mutual feeling,” Rowena explains. “Something that won’t let him read thoughts so much as emotions, sensations. I can do it with wee Y/N since I sense that’s who he feels truly upset about. Am I right?”

Sam nods slowly. It actually sounds like exactly the kind of thing that could convince Dean that they’re telling the truth when they say they’re alright and that they don’t blame him. And having the stick removed from his ass would probably make Dean better able to concentrate when he’s hunting if he’s not worrying so much about Y/N instead of looking after himself.

“He won’t know until it’s done?” Sam checks. Dean is not a fan of magic, he’d never agree to let them spell him if he has a choice in it.

“Won’t suspect a thing,” Rowena smirks.

Dean wakes up feeling a wave of energy that he almost never experiences first thing in the morning. He sits up on the crappy motel bed with a sore back but somehow simultaneously feeling like he’s gotten a sound night of ten hours of sleep on his memory foam mattress back in the bunker. There’s a faint hum in his ears like he can hear his blood as it drifts through his body, pumping from heart to head to toes and back up the circuit. There’s a slight twinge in his ankle that he doesn’t remember being there when he went to bed, but it really just feels like pins and needles or like he’s slept on it funny. Getting up gingerly, he puts his weight on both feet and finds a dull soreness in the limb but nothing debilitating.

Weird, he thinks to himself, yawning as he stumbles towards the coffee machine and bangs through making a pot. The cupcakes Rowena had brought last night with dinner are still sitting on the counter next to the machine, two empty holes in the container and two more cupcakes still sitting there, appetisingly. Dean grabs one and crams it into his mouth over the course of two bites while he makes his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day. In the shower, he contemplates doing something with the half-there morning wood he’s sporting but is suddenly desperate to get his coffee and get on the road to start the drive back to Kansas–and Y/N.

It’s a nearly fourteen-hour drive, so it will be a fucking long day, but they can do it in one if he speeds on some of the country highways, Dean reasons. There’s a foreign warmth in his chest that’s making him feel like he absolutely has to get back and see Y/N today. As soon as possible. Somehow, he can just tell that she’s really missing him right now. Not that he’s not missing her, because of course he is, but this doesn’t feel like his feeling. And that thought alone is fucking weird. How the hell would he be feeling a feeling that isn’t his own? It should make him feel a little pig-headed, imagining that Y/N is desperately missing him, but he tries not to beat himself up about it.

Y/N told him she missed him when they were on the phone last night, after all. It’s not like he’s imagining it or just inventing it out of thin air. There’s always a bit of a pull when they’re apart from each other. That’ll happen when you wind up dating/living with the first girlfriend you’ve ever had. There were other girlfriends between Y/N and Dean separating and them getting back together, considering they had only been eight the first time they ‘dated’. But there’s always been a sense of fate drawing them back together, of them not being meant to stay apart for too long. Fuck, when did he start thinking about it so sappily? Obviously, Dean’s always felt that way, but he doesn’t remember ever thinking about it in exactly those terms before. What is going on?

Dean sips his coffee, not even remembering pouring it for himself in the fog of thoughts and feelings his brain has become this morning, and he decides not to worry about it too much. It’s kind of nice, actually, feeling so confident in how much they love each other. Thinking about Y/N isn’t leaving him with the same bitter taste of ‘what if…’ that it typically does, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Y/N looks around the bunker at a loss, feeling a profound sense of boredom and a deep longing for Dean to be home already. She checks the clock on the wall of the library again, in the vain hope that more than a few minutes have passed since the last time she looked up, but no luck. Checking her messages, there’s nothing new from Dean in the past few hours, which makes sense because he’s driving. She hadn’t been lying to him on the phone yesterday when she’d said Netflix was starting to get boring. She’s watched as much Friends as she can stomach right now, and she promised Sam she wouldn’t download the new Game of Thrones episode without him, so she’s at a bit of a loss for what to watch to while the hours away.

With a smirk to herself, Y/N thinks about what Dean would do in this situation. Just watch porn. Deciding to head to the kitchen for a snack, Y/N makes her way to the refrigerator and stands in front of the industrial silvers coolers, scanning the shelves for something that appeals. She really isn’t particularly hungry, she realises as she stares aimlessly at the food. Except for… There’s a small throb low in her stomach, but it isn’t hunger per se. It is a desire. A need. The ‘what would Dean do’ possibility floats back across her mind and Y/N purses her lips.

You know what, why the fuck not?

Dean stares blankly at the mostly empty highway through the Impala’s dashboard, eyes unconsciously darting back and forth across the lanes of traffic and fields of dirt that will be wheat or corn when spring hits in a few months. They go over a pothole that he doesn’t notice in time to swerve around, and the chassis jostles beneath him. Randomly, a twinge of arousal thrums through him, deep in his hips, like a pulse of bright heat. Just for a second, and then it burns out again. He feels a look of confusion cross his face, wondering where the hell that had come from. Sure he loves his car, but not that much.

Must have been the pothole, he thinks after a brief interrogation of his thoughts over the past few minutes, unable to come up with another explanation.

Y/N settles back into the memory foam mattress comfortably, on Dean’s side of the bed, pulling his pillows around her to surround herself with his familiar scent. Under the comforter, she slides her sweatpants down her legs and then brings her fingers back up to her panties, teasing the small bundle of nerves between her legs through the fabric while she browses for something… stimulating to watch on her phone. It takes a few minutes of scrolling and lazy touching, but she eventually settles on something that looks like it will be more than suitable.

Pulling her hand back out from beneath the covers, she reaches out for the toy she left out, now eager to get down to business.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He’s driving his car with his giant little brother crunched into the seat next to him and Metallica on the radio. Perfectly normal, everyday situation. Nothing exciting or even remotely arousing about his current set of circumstances. But for the past ten minutes or so, he’s felt himself growing steadily more and more alert in the pants department. And try as he might to think of dead puppies or wendigos or Sam, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling.

There’s a sharp twitch of arousal and suddenly he’s at full mast, nothing slow about the build-up like the past few minutes, and his hips jerk off the seat in surprise.

“Dude, what is going on?” Sam demands in irritation, looking up from his phone and across the bench seat at his brother. Dean feels himself blush in humiliation and frustration at not understanding what the fuck is happening to him, praying that Sam won’t notice anything untoward.

His hopes do not pan out.

“Dean, what the fuck?!”

Y/N is definitely not bored anymore. She’s gone through the first video, and a second, and she’s very much enjoyed her new entertainment material. Way better than Friends. Since it’s still a while until she’s expecting Dean and Sam back though, she decides to just go ahead and make an afternoon of it, working herself up and then backing off when she starts to get a little too close to the edge. The constant buzz and pressure from her clit-sucking vibrator are perfect for helping her to just relax and enjoy the pleasure washing over her. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to really enjoy edging herself, so she’s milking this chance for all it’s worth.

With a pang of desire between her legs, she clicks on the video title that has just popped up on the screen with enthusiasm. Doggy Fucking In My Classic Car. The car isn’t the right decade or manufacturer, but it is black, with a black interior, and the guy in the video is lean with short, light brown hair. It’s close enough. When he goes down on the girl in the backseat and memories flood her mind, Y/N lets herself moan loudly in appreciation.

Dean moans. He flat-out moans. Like he’s in a fucking porno.

“Seriously!? Dean, what the fuck?!” Sam shouts in disgust, giving Dean a look as if he’s a piece of trash they just fished out of the bottom of a lake.

“I don’t know!” Dean shouts back, slamming the centre of the wheel in anger and accidentally honking the horn at a passing Honda, which honks back at him angrily. “Fuck,” he shudders, his dick actually jumping in excitement, and the pressure around its crown seems to be increasing somehow and Dean thinks he actually might start crying it feels so good and so frustrating at the same time. Because it’s been doing this for a fucking hour.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, hand shooting out to grab the wheel and redirect the Impala because Dean’s just let go of the wheel entirely and almost let them swerve into the next lane of traffic. Dean is panting, his hands pressing desperately into his lap as if somehow the pressure will keep him from feeling like he’s about to cum in his jeans. It only makes it worse. With a monumental effort, Dean makes himself focus back on the road and retakes control of the wheel from Sam long enough to ease them off onto the shoulder of the highway, parked safely out of the way.

“You’re gonna have to drive, Sammy,” Dean grunts, fumbling with the handle of his door and toppling out. He makes his way to the passenger side and collapses against the frame of the door that Sam leaves open for him. “Fuuuck,” he moans again, biting his lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s becoming exponentially harder by the second. He’s gonna cum, he realises in horror. Right here, on the side of the road, with his brother right fucking there, sitting in the car two feet away. And Dean’s gonna cum in his pants.

He wants to reach in and jerk himself off, help himself get there and get it over with, but he can’t exactly do that when his hips are currently at Sam's height while he’s slumped against the car, panting heavily, breath catching in his throat. Almost. There.

Y/N stretches out with a sigh when she’s finished, having worked herself through a couple of tiny orgasms following her big fall over the edge. It’s always easier to force herself into multiple when she’s been edging, and now every bit of her body feels warm and floppy and nice. Rolling over onto her side, she pulls Dean’s pillow under her head and cradles it in her arm, letting her eyes slide shut for a nap.

Dean is going to hang Sam from the fucking rafters. And he’s gonna put a magical hit out on Rowena. He can’t fucking believe they would put a spell on him like that. How fucking invasive. For Dean and Y/N! Yeah. Sam and Rowena are dead meat. But Sam says the spell will only last for forty-eight hours, so that’s a relief at least. And Dean since the damage has already been done, Dean is going to take advantage of it while he can. No use crying over spilt spellwork.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean bangs through the door to the bunker and down the ironwork stairs with more excitement than belongs to him because he now knows that part of what he’s feeling is coming from Y/N thanks to Rowena’s spell. Said girlfriend comes skidding around the corner into the hallway and runs into his arms with relief.

“I missed you,” Y/N mumbles into Dean’s shoulder, and it’s so so weird to feel the love that’s radiating off of her as Dean and as Y/N. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling that’s there, and it makes Dean’s breath catch in his chest as he crushes her to him, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head, smelling a comforting combination of her shampoo and the sweet scent she gets when she’s just woken up from sleeping.

“I missed you too, baby,” Dean smiles, tilting her chin up and dropping a small kiss on her lips. Sweet and chaste. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he whispers against her mouth, and Y/N jerks back, startled. He levels her with a cocky smirk as she blinks at him, her face pinching in embarrassment.

“How did you know?” Y/N can’t look him in the eye, and Dean chuckles under his breath at how cute and innocent she can be sometimes. No one would ever think she could get embarrassed if they saw her in the bedroom the way he’s seen her.

“I’ll explain,” Dean grabs her hand and starts pulling her toward their bedroom. “Did you use your toys?” he asks, eyes darkening as he takes in the disarray of their bedcovers and the slightly open nightstand drawer.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers breathlessly, the shadow of a giggle.

“The sucking one?” Dean asks knowingly. He had run through the possibilities in his head endlessly on the drive home, and considering the sensations he’d been privy to, that’s the toy that seemed to fit the most. He can see now why she likes it as much as she does.

“Seriously, how the fuck do you know?!” Y/N demands, letting Dean push her down on the bed and kissing him back eagerly when he climbs over her.

“I’ll explain,” he repeats elusively, kissing down Y/N’s body and peeling her clothes off as he goes until she’s spread out and naked beneath him. He presses her thighs open, exposing the glistening folds of her cunt. He wonders if that’s from her afternoon’s activities or if that’s just appeared since he’s come home. “First, I need to know what it feels like to have this pussy fucked on my tongue.”

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darcyfangirlsfrequently · 2 years

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Okay so I have a lengthy headcanon

Established Garvez, obviously, and they're living together.

One day she tells him that she's going out to get some personal items and she'll be back in a bit. He asks her if she wants him to come with her, he can help get whatever she needs and they can get some coffee or something after, make a little date out of it.

She hems and haws, saying that it's no big deal, it's just some little things she needs, he doesn't need to come.

"No, I want to, seriously."

Then she exclaims, "It's tampons, Luke! My period started and I'm almost out, so I need to get some more."

He is unaffected. "Oh. Okay. So do you still not want me to come, or…"

She's taken aback. "Wait, you still want to come?"

"Uh, yeah? I like spending time with you, even when it's just mundane, every day stuff."

"Even when I told you what it is I'm getting? You aren't disgusted or anything?"

He sighs. "Whichever ex of yours said and did shit like that better hope they never meet me, I swear to god." (Spoiler alert, it was Kevin.) "No, I'm not disgusted. It's a period. I know you get them. They're a natural thing. And as your boyfriend who lives with you, I should probably know what products you use so I can buy them for you if you ever need them and don't feel like going out. So, come on, I'm driving, let's go."

She's already smiling so hard her cheeks hurt by the time they get into the car.

They buy the stuff she needs and he takes pictures of them so he can make sure to buy the exact right stuff if he ever needs to. He also buys her dark chocolate and green tea because he heard it helps with cramps and bloating.

She is in love. "You're amazing," she tells him.

"Thank you," he says, "but this isn't amazing, babe, this is just basic. Now do you want to get more advil while we're here, or do we have enough at home?"

"I am literally so in love with you."

#Garvez #Luke Alvez #Penelope Garcia #Criminal Minds

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

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Bruises and Baths

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Something amazing happened over this last weekend. While millions were watching the “Big Game” some of my mutuals came up with a wonderful way to honor the amazing, talented writers here on tumblr. @authorspotlight is a blog for showcasing a weekly author, at random, just to promote their great work and keep the haters at bay! Interested? Follow that blog! We’ve a great little community starting up and I would love, love, love to see you all there!! P.S. Comments, shares, reblogs are appreciated!! I love the love!! P.P.S. shout out to the creator of this amazing gif! >swoon< Summary/ Request: This story came from a request by one of my sweet little followers. After a wild night with Loki, you, dear reader are sore and tired. What does aftercare look like from the God of Lies? Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: References bondage, rough SMUT, then just fluffy, lovey, romantic SMUT

As the back of your thighs met the supple leather of the conference room chair you nearly cried out. Memories from last night made your knees weak and your panties damp as a jolt of pain shot through you. It had been like this all day, fraying your nerves and your patience.

Biting back a moan, grabbing onto the conference table's ledge, you willed your wayward body to relax. One more meeting then back to your apartment upstairs, a cup of tea and a shower. And Advil. Lots of Advil.

"Everything alright darling?" Loki's voice, honey hot, humming in your ear sent a shiver through your aching body. He knew it wasn't alright. Oh yes, he knew very well, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of needling you.

Trying to sound unaffected, "Me? Yes. I'm just fine, thank you."

Refocusing on the paperwork in your hands, smoothing your skirt over your tender bottom, you gingerly sat for the afternoon meeting. Perching on the very edge of your chair, back straight, you struggled to appear professional, giving Loki none of your attention. Could Loki allow that? Hardly!

Sliding into the chair next to you, leaning into your space, "I do love your blouse. High neck line, very demure." Dropping his voice an octave, "Good for hiding behind, I suspect."

Attempts to avoid the handsome God, who was so close that his amber scent was swallowing you, were heading out the window. Loki managed to make your body, your physical being, react to him in ways you couldn't overlook.

Playing with the chunky statement necklace that lay on top of your turtleneck, intent on ignoring the mischievous man at your side,"Go away Loki."

Flashing out a silent warning, your eyes peered into his, almost daring him to continue. With a searching glance Loki settled in beside you without another word. Too tired and too sore to spar with him, you turned your attention to the presentation Steve Rogers was starting, almost grateful for the droning distraction.

Feeling your eyes drop closed, heavy from your active night and lack of sleep, you struggled to follow Steve's sonorous voice. Right now it felt more like a lullaby than life saving information. You realized that this was the most comfortable you had been all day and mentally decided to let sleep claim you. Apologizing to Steve would be easier than staying awake just now.

Reaching past you for a water glass, Loki made sure to rub his arm across your chest, waking you fully. A stuttering gasp left you because your nipples, bruised and abraded, were purposefully agitated by Loki's intentional fumbling. "Fuck, Loki!" Whispering for him alone, you glared at his smug smile, now awake and more than slightly aroused.

"What? Is something wrong?" His innocent act was almost as irritating as the rub of your clothes against your abused flesh.

"You know damn well what's wrong." Steve was staring at you, clearly aware that you and Loki had both checked out of his talk. But it was too late. The meeting was over, as was the workday, and you couldn't have been more relieved.

Rising as quickly as your bruised knees allowed, you scooted out before you could be chastised by your leader, trying to outrun Loki too. It didn't work.

He caught you outside the elevator, gripping your wrists tight, pressing his normally delicate fingers against the bracelet of welts you sported today."Shit, Loki! That hurts!"

Instantly releasing you, Loki pressed the call button, a frown creasing his noble brow. "Did you put the lotion on today? The cream I left for you?"

Tugging at the hem of your skirt, hoping no one could see your purple marked thighs, you denied Loki eye contact. "No. I forgot alright? But, ya know, this… this sucks."

Arriving with a ding, you both boarded the elevator, the conversation on hold. In the privacy of the lift, pushing you into the mirrored wall, Loki's mouth dropped to yours. Denying him your lips, you turned away, pouting a little.

Chuckling darkly, "Hard to get, is that it pet? Isn't this what got you into trouble last night?"

"Don't remind me about last night. How could I possibly forget? Every time I move, every step I take, I can feel it, Loki." Your words are angry but your tone? That's whiny. Loki's just so close to you. And your body, betraying, pushes your chest out craving more connection, even if it makes you bite back a whimper.

Missing nothing, Loki's voice full of sin, "Are you saying that it's my fault you can't sit properly? Or... that I'm the reason you're covered from throat to wrist?"

"Um…" That is exactly what you were saying, but with Loki nipping at your earlobe you were forgetting why.

Humid breath husked across your throat carrying the scent of Loki's afternoon espresso. Tracing your jawline with his talented tongue, Loki tisked at you, "Am I the reason you can't walk straight this morning?" Uh oh. This is exactly what he wanted. Admission of submission.

His hand slid under your skirt, lifting it higher as he nosed against your jaw. "Because I loved sucking everyone of those hickeys on to your body while you were handcuffed to my bed, mewling with need."

"Loki…" You felt your center blaze to liquid life. Nuzzling into your covered neck, Loki's arms course over your own, raising them over your head. Pinning you against the mirrored wall of the ascending elevator, "Those breasts of yours, so soft, so full, are covered in my fingerprints. I can still taste your firm, tight nipples. Licking them and biting them while you cried my name was so enticing, pet."

God, you remembered it all. Each affliction, each sharp touch, roaring to life in your mind. Recalling the sexual adventures of the night before was making you weak willed and warm.

Stopping at your floor, the doors parted on a thankfully empty hallway. Taking you by the hand, Loki pulled you toward the room you shared, causing you to stumble over your heels. "Keep up kitten…"

Holding the door for you, Loki slapped your bottom as you passed by. Somehow your legs kept you upright but you still yelped at the stinging smack. Fresh hurt washing over the embers of yesterday's rough play set you whimpering.

Coming up behind you, wrapping you up in his iron banded arms, "Take off your clothes."

Without waiting for a reply, Loki crossed the floor, shutting the bathroom door after him. Your mind wanted to resist his domineering demand. The rebellious side of your nature needed to, but your body was already flush with want.

Interest piqued by Loki's behavior, desire drawing your hands to act without direct input from your brain, you slipped off your shoes. With a sigh, your sore shoulder stretching, you shrugged off your top, letting it drop to the floor. It was shortly joined by your skirt.

Popping his dark head around the bathroom door, "Darling?"

Seeing you in your underclothes, looking more exposed than if you were fully bare, Loki licked over his bottom lip. Sexy as hell, that's what you were, covered in the lavender and scarlet stains of his passion. Although, if he was honest, maybe he had been too rough on you last night.

Turning as he neared, you noticed his jacket was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up. Those strong forearms, which could hold you down and force your pleasure from you, or gather you into a bone cracking hug, were on delicious display. Loki was so impossibly masculine in moments like this, it was no wonder you let him talk you into realizing your wildest fantasies.

Reaching for the hooks on your bra, Loki saw you wince, and it softened him even more. As happy as he had been to restrain you, taste you, tease you, Loki was now over eager to soothe away your hurts. Good thing he already had a plan in motion.

"Come on, dove." Threading his fingers through yours, you trailed Loki to your shared bathroom, the warm scents of vanilla and coconut filling the space. Almost overflowing, the tub was loaded with creamy lather, tendrils of steam rising from the surface. It called to your weary body.

Brushing his hands over your shoulders, Loki kissed along the nape of your neck, gathering your hair to one side. From behind you, he circled your waist, hands slipping under the waist of your panties. As they slide over your thighs, Loki follows, kneeling in order to help you out of them completely.

With his sturdy size for support you stepped into the scalding water, settling in slowly with a gentle groan. Sitting outside your bath, Loki used the same hands that had spanked your bottom pink to swipe sudsy soap across your neck, releasing the tension you carried all day. Following with a soaked washcloth, Loki began to wash you, worship you, with each soothing swipe.

Shifting slightly, you gave Loki full access to your bobbing breasts, hungry for his touch once more. Dipping under the water, you felt him ghost over your legs, his hands quick, never lingering very long. You were cooing quietly, Loki getting high on the soft sounds escaping you at each pass of his palms.

To him you sounded like a happy cat, purring in pleasure, unwound. Eyes closed, leaning into the back wall of the deep tub, Loki could swear you were melting. "May I… may I wash your hair?"

His request was whisper soft, just shy of timid, and so adorable that your heart fluttered at his sweetness. Biting your bottom lip, nodding, you put yourself completely in Loki's capable hands. "Keep your eyes shut, dove."

"Yes…"

Pouring smoothly, Loki traced the flow of the water, separating your hair with his dexterous digits. Heavily lidded eyes watched Loki, the God of Mischief, as he poured shampoo into his hands. Once he was happy with the lather, Loki began working in slow circles, savoring the sensation of your scalp under his fingers.

"Tip you head back, sweetling." Using a hand to keep soap from your eyes, just like a protective mother might, Loki emptied his pitcher over your head. Shivering as the suds sluiced over your heaving chest, you were overcome by the erotic gentleness of your lover.

After rinsing your hair free of bubbles, Loki kissed your upturned forehead, then shifted so that his folded arms laid on the lip of the bathtub. Watching you like that, resting his chin on one arm, the other playing in the cooling water, he was content.

Reaching for his wet fingers, "I think you missed a spot, babe."

"Hmm… did I?" Breaking through the scented suds, Loki's hand slid over your slippery skin, grazing your thigh. Moaning gently, his light touch thrilling, you tipped your head back. Enjoying Loki's quiet exploration of your body, his eyes never left your face, "Gods, you're gorgeous."

Smiling, "Aren't you the God of Lies?"

"I have no reason to lie to you, kitten. And here, now, you are a beautiful water nymph. Tempting and taunting me from your watery lair."

Laughing lowly, "I am no temptress, Loki."

"I beg to differ." His fingers found your fluid folds, two entering you slowly, as Loki leaned in to kiss you deeply. Skimming over your bottom lip, Loki's tongue licked into you, his free hand tangling in your clean hair. Scented water splashed onto the floor as Loki curled his digits against your sweetest spot, soaking him, making you sing out.

Gasping, you gripped the walls of the tub, letting Loki take care of you as your body shook through its release. Safe in his care, cherished and clean, your body softened, satisfaction making you sag into the deep water. When he withdrew, you sat forward, "Not yet, please?"

Using the ledge, Loki rose, chuckling as he lifted your chin. "Take a few more minutes. I'll be back to dry you off in a bit. Don't want you to get pruney, do we?"

"Hmm… no we don't want that!" Sinking back into your warm, wet cocoon, you yawned and shut your eyes.

Too soon, it seemed, Loki was nudging you awake. "Dove? The water's cold now… come on, let's get you to bed."

Stirring, you saw Loki holding out a fluffy towel, ready to dry you off. He helped you stand and made sure you carefully stepped out onto the wet tiled floor. Wrapping you in the comfort of his big bath sheet, you giggled as Loki dried your tresses, then tucked the towel firmly around you.

Leading you to the best looking bed you had ever seen, Loki unwound your terry cloth covering, "Lay down, pet."

You did, happily collapsing into the comforter, laying on your tummy.

"This might be a little cool at first…" Loki's oil filled palms slipped over the sore muscles of your back. Spending some quality time on your tenderized tush, Loki made sure to rub you in delicate circles, smoothing the liniment into your hot skin.

After sliding over the backs of your legs and each arm, "Very carefully roll over, alright?"

Muffled by the downy softness of your bedspread, "Yes, dear."

It took you a few moments to follow Loki's direction. Your body was like melted butter. Soft and pliant, all of the previous night's precious pains soothed away, you were a mushy marshmallow.

Fingers traced over the bites and bumps that marked you as his. Stroking oil over your thighs, your belly, your bruised breasts, you let Loki work. His magical hands anointing you with his attention.

Certain that you had drifted off during his massage, Loki kissed you lightly, gratified that you were comfortable and content. Straightening, Loki stepped out of his trousers, eager to join you in bed. When you felt the mattress dip to accommodate him, you turned towards Loki's warmth,"Thank you, babe. I feel magnificent!"

Gathering you to his side, Loki curled an arm over your middle, his chest to your back. "That pleases me, kitten."

Twisting around in order to face your mischievous man, "I mean it. You take good care of me, Loki."

Twirling a lock of your damp hair in his fingers, "That was always the difference between Thor and myself. I took care of my toys."

Pushing his shoulder, huffing, "I'm not a toy, Loki!"

"I know, I know, it's just I love playing with you so much… You are my favorite plaything. My darling doll."

Pulling him closer, you pressed yourself to Loki, lip to lip and hip to hip. You both let the kiss deepen, drawing you tighter together, when Loki tucked his forehead to yours. "Sleep now, darling."

Nodding with a deep yawn, you let Loki wrap the thick blanket around you, snuggling into the security of his arms. Arms that could bring you to ecstasy easily. Arms that could rock you to sleep. Arms that belonged to Loki... arms that belonged around you.

To my Minxes: @lots-of-loki @brokenthelovely @vodka-and-some-sass @iamverity @just-random-obsessions @archy3001 @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @thefallenbibliophilequote @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @procrastinatinglikeabitch @peterman-spideyparker

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #hot loki #loki aftercare #loki dom #loki fanfic #loki #mcu smut #marvel smut

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lihikainanea · 5 years

Text

The period smut

My babies, thanks for your patience with this. I hope it was worth the wait. I missed writing these two in a longer piece.

A few things, before you proceed:

1) Tiger has a safe word. She says no, in this. She pushes him away. But in their dynamic, she has a safe word and until she uses it--it’s a green light. She can say no as much as she wants, it’s part of it. She knows--and so does Bill--that if she wants it to stop, she just has to say her safe word.

2) I get that this kink isn’t for everybody. It’s why I’m tagging it as appropriate, so you can blacklist it if you want to. But that being said--friends, ain’t no kink shaming in my house. Life is too short.

***

It hit at the worst time.

There was never a good time for your uterus to attempt to kill you, but smack in the middle of a beach vacation was less than ideal. It usually never hit you too hard, but a lack of exercise and an overabundance of alcohol, of blissful sex most nights and an avalanche of Bill’s subliminal pheromones being exuded in your general direction meant you were in for a rough, hormonal ride.

You felt it the second you woke up, a deep clenching of your lower abdomen that had you curling in more on yourself as you roused from sleep. Bill took your shrinking form as a sign you were needing more affection, so he wrapped even tighter around you as you tried to make your way out of his arms and to the bathroom. It took a few seconds, petulant whining on his part as you undid every new limb he wrapped around you until you took to just smacking him away.

“Quit it you dick,” he mumbled sleepily, and you rolled your eyes.

“Bill I have to pee. I can do that in the bathroom, or on you,” you snapped. He smirked, his eyes still closed, but you clamped a hand over his mouth before he could speak.

“No,” you said, “Just no. Don’t even.”

He huffed, grumbling at you, as you promised him you’d be back in a second. He didn’t notice your discomfort on your way back to bed, walking gingerly with a hand pressing tightly into your lower stomach, and he was all over you again the minute you laid back down. You let him curl around you, his body heat helping soothe the deep cramps gripping your lower belly.

You thought—you hoped—it would get better the more you moved around, got some food into you, some soothing ginger tea. Advil would have been a smarter choice, but as the cramps got worse over the course of the day and started to nag at your lower back, you turned to your favourite pain relief: alcohol.

Sitting up gingerly from your towel in the sand, you stood slowly and looked for Bill out on the water. You didn’t have to look far, catching the glint off his mirrored RayBans as his long legs hung out the sides of the inflatable swan anchored in the ocean. You waved your arm up high and saw his head tilt, waving a hand back. You motioned to the hotel lobby where the best outdoor bar was—the one that had the heaviest hand when it came to the rum cocktails—and started to make your way over. You moved slowly, your back aching, your entire front doubled over in pain.

“Can I get a Pina colada, please?” You asked the bartender, folding your arms on the counter top and resting your weight on them. You hunched over as another cramp hit, the dull ache radiating to your lower back, and suppressed a groan.

You jumped slightly when a big hand rested on your back, your startled movement jarring you and you grabbed your abdomen as the tense muscles spurred another vicious cramp.

“Easy kid,” Bill soothed, crowding your space, “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m dying,” you groaned, “This is death for sure.”

“What’s wrong?” He tried to keep his voice even, calm, but you saw the creases of worry on his features.

“Death by cramps, this is the end for me.”

His brow pinched in concern.

“It’s your stomach?” He asked, reached his hand for it but you flinched and curled away. You winced as the dull ache from your back eased it’s way down your sciatic nerve.

“It’s not my stomach, bud,” you quirked a brow at him, arching your back to ease some of the pain.

“Oh,” you watched as realization clouded his features, “Oh.”

The bartender plunked your drink down then, and you greedily reached for it and managed a few hefty gulps before you felt the brain freeze start to take over.

“And is…rum…a good idea for that?” He asked skeptically. You tilted your head in contemplation.

“You know what? You’re right,” you tapped the bartender on the shoulder, “Can I have 25 shots of tequila please?”

“Tiger, no,” Bill said, his eyes wide.

“Tiger yes,” you insisted, clutching your pina colada and trying to gulp the rest down.

“Alright kid, that’s enough of this,” he pried it from your grasp as you clutched on, your mouth chasing the straw, “Go on upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute.”

But you kept reaching for your drink and he held it high above his head, laying a quick kiss on your lips when you lunged for it.

“Go,” he admonished again, giving your backside a light pat as you grumbled.

You slowly made your way back to your room, stopping every now and then to clutch the wall when a cramp hit particularly hard. When you finally made it in you stripped down to your underwear immediately, pulling on the shirt Bill had worn last night and tucking yourself under the covers. You heard his key slide in the lock a few minutes later, and he rounded the corner with two mugs in his hand.

“This might help a little more than rum,” he said, handing one to you as you sat up. You sniffed it, cupping your hands around the mug as you brought it to your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, the warm liquid soothing a bit of the ache as it settled in your stomach.

“What hurts?” He asked, wrapping his hands around his mug. You placed yours on the nightstand and flopped back onto the pillows.

“Everything,” you whined, “My entire lower abdomen is just…throbbing. My back is killing me. My boobs are killing me. Everything is killing me.”

“Do you want to take something for it?” He asked, but you just shook your head.

“I didn’t bring anything,” you said, throwing a forearm over your eyes and groaning as another cramp hit.

“I couldn’t find a hot water bottle,” he mumbled, pulling the covers down. He gently rucked up your shirt as you protested, and he tutted you softly. “But maybe this will help?”

Putting the mug on the floor, he lightly placed his hands on your lower abdomen, applying just a bit of pressure. His hands were hot from the mug, fanning out across nearly your entire stomach as he pressed down lightly. You groaned in relief, your eyes closing as you went limp.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, the pressure and the heat easing the tension.

“Good?” He asked, switching the position of his hands and rubbing lightly.

“Press down a bit harder please,” you begged, your eyes closed. You sighed heavily when he did, adding just a bit more pressure as he stilled his hands.

“Does it help?” He asked, hopeful. You managed a small smile as you tickled your fingers up his forearm.

“Big time, bud. Thank you.”

“You know,” he started, moving his hands to another position, “I heard an orgasm is also incredibly effective at relieving cramps.”

You opened your eyes, glaring at him.

“I swear to god,” you threatened, “My uterus is literally shredding itself into pieces. Shredding, Bill. And you are seriously proposing that I fuck your brains out for relief?”

He stared back, unblinking.

“No, I’m seriously proposing that you lie back and let me fuck your brains out, for your own relief,” he picked up the mug again, warming his hands for a few seconds before placing them back on your lower abdomen.

“It’s gross,” you snapped. He shrugged.

“It’s science.”

You just shook your head, flopping it back on the pillow. A second later you heard the bedsheets rustle, felt the weight on the bed shift as his hands slid off your stomach.

He ran his nose along your jaw, steadying his weight above you with a knee planted on the mattress, before placing his lips on that sensitive spot below your ear. He sucked on it softly as you inhaled a sharp breath, willing yourself not to whimper. He released it with a lick, swiping his tongue over his lips before planting them again an inch down, sucking on your pulse point.

“Bill, no,” you sighed, but his hands came up to tangle with yours and you held on.

“Okay,” he mumbled into your neck, moving his lips down to kiss and suck at another spot. His mouth was warm and soft, leaving a wet trail in its wake as you tingled.

“Stop,” you whimpered, but he just nipped gently at your sensitive skin as you craned your chin up to expose more of your neck.

“Alright,” he conceded, moving his mouth to the hollow of your neck and down your collarbone, peppering suckling kisses along it. He made his way back up your neck and when he got to your sweet spot—a small spot halfway up your neck and a little to the back—he sucked on it a little harder as he softly rolled his hips down into yours. You gasped and moaned; you were already so sensitive, but now you were dialled to a hundred. He rested his hips lightly against yours, keeping a lot of the pressure off your stomach but pressing down just enough to relieve some of your pain.

“Bill it’s…it’s gross,” you tried, but it sounded pitiful even to you. He rolled his hips slowly into yours again and you dug your nails into his biceps, moaning softly.

“S’not gross,” he murmured into your neck, “And it’ll help you.”

“It’s messy,” you bit your lip, but you could feel your resolve crumbling the more he pushed his hips into yours.

“We’ll put a towel down,” he moved his face from your neck, kissing down your nose before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You whined into it, already worked up and hormonal, even more so knowing that the release you were now so desperately craving would have to wait a few days. You broke the kiss, frustrated, and tried to sit up.

“This is mean,” you started to push away at him, his lips softly pressing all over your face, “You’re getting me all horny and you know there’s nothing we can do about it for a few more days.”

“We can do something about it,” he insisted, kissing you again as you struggled, “I’ve done it before.”

That gave you pause as you looked up at him, and he held your gaze.

“You have?” You asked meekly. He nodded, and gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, in fact I had a girlfriend who was super into it. She swore it was the only thing that ever helped,” he wove his hands with yours again, kissing the corners of your mouth, “I was happy to do it.”

He bumped his nose with yours, kissing the tip of it as you contemplated.

“Which girlfriend?”

“Tiger,” he rolled his eyes, “Look, if you really don’t want to, then we won’t. But don’t hold out on relief because you think it’s gross. It doesn’t bother me, kid.”

You stared at him long and hard, waiting to see a crack in his facade. But irritatingly, all you saw was kindness and sincerity. And as another cramp clenched your lower stomach, you caved.

“Fine,” you agreed, “But there’s no way I’m doing this without a shower first.”

Smiling, he moved off of you and pulled you up slowly. When you made your way into the bathroom, he followed but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Nuh uh, buddy,” you pushed him back, “You wait out here.”

He whined petulantly but you shoved him back and slammed the door.

You took your time under the stream of hot water, both to gain courage and to soap up a few times. When you weren’t getting any cleaner, you shut the water off with a sigh. Running a towel through your hair, you wrapped it around you after and took a deep breath as you opened the door.

Bill was sitting cross legged on the bed, moving to his knees when he saw you. He had spread out towels—the dark blue ones, typically reserved for the beach—all over the bed.

“I thought the white ones might freak you out,” he reached his hand out and you walked towards him, taking it, “I asked the hotel to bring me these ones.”

“Good call,” you muttered, “Now get me off my feet before gravity takes over.”

Your attempt at grossing him out didn’t work, when all he did was pull you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he captured your lips in a lingering kiss. He shifted, pulling you onto the bed and settling you under him, resting some of his weight on you. He moved his lips from yours to kiss your chin, nipping your jaw.

“I’m serious, bud,” you tried again, “It’s going to like…gush.”

“Okay,” he mumbled unaffected, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. You whimpered, craning your neck up to give him better access.

“It’s going to look like a crime scene,” you couldn’t keep the edge of a pleasured sigh from sneaking out as he nibbled on your ear.

“Alright,” he mumbled again, moving his lips down to suck the water droplets from your neck. He moaned, his lips vibrating against your sensitive skin, and pulled at the knot in your towel. He trailed his mouth over your collarbone as his hand came up to cup your breast, running his thumb over your nipple. He kneaded it softly, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pinching it lightly and you groaned. You were so sensitive already, the hormones putting all of your nerve endings on fire as he licked the hollow of your neck, dragging his tongue down the middle of your chest. He rolled his hips into yours as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, and you gasped.

“You know,” you started, pausing to moan as he flicked it with his tongue, “You really don’t have to uh, warm me up.”

“Mmm,” was his non-committal reply.

“There’s going to be enough…wetness,” you tried again, “But it’ll be blo—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss.

“You get an A for effort in trying to gross me out, kid,” he murmured, “But you still lose.”

He kissed you again, rolling his hips into yours again and you clung to him, digging your nails into his back. He sucked on your bottom lip, running his tongue over it as he laid his palm flat on your chest, dragging is down slowly to rest low on your belly. It knocked you back into the present.

“Whoa hey, hang on,” you broke the kiss and grabbed his wrist firmly, “Hands stay up top.”

He sighed and moved his hand, shifting to balance his weight on his forearms he looked down at you.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because, that’s some next level shit I’m not ready for yet,” you said. He kissed you lightly, running his thumb across your cheek.

“Tiger, if you don’t want to do this, then we won’t do it,” he said as he stroked your cheek. You shook your head.

“No, I want to,” you insisted, “I’m just…I’m not ready for your hands to be all up in that mess.”

“Okay,” he acquiesced, “Are you sure? About wanting this?”

You nodded.

“And if you change your mind about it all? And you want to stop?”

“I’ll tell you,” you promised, and he smiled. Weaving his hands with yours, he placed them by your head.

“Good. So I’ll just keep my hands up here,” he murmured, “And maybe I just keep doing this, instead.”

And he thrusted his hips into you again, making you moan as he brought his mouth back down to your chest. Licking between your breasts, he nipped at your soft mounds before capturing your nipple back in his mouth. He rolled his tongue over it as he flexed his hips into yours, sucking hard on it as you whimpered. Releasing it with a pop, he dragged his mouth back to yours for a deep kiss while he let go of your hands.

“Take my pants off kid,” he commanded, “I’ll keep my hands up here.”

He moved them into your hair, scratching lightly as you fumbled for his pants and pushed them down over his hips. You used your feet to drag them down his legs, until they were low enough for him to kick off. Settling his hips onto yours, he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth.

“Line me up,” he murmured against your mouth, and you reached down to position his head at your entrance. He moaned at the contact, fisting your hair a little tighter.

“You good, tiger?” He asked, and it came out as more of a sigh. You nodded.

“Yeah bud,” you couldn’t help but grind up against him just a bit, making you both moan, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Removing his hands from your hair to weave back with yours, he kissed you as he slowly pushed into you. He groaned from deep in his chest and you felt him twitch, pressing in until his hips sat flush with yours and he dragged in a ragged breath.

“Bullseye,” he sighed.

You were clenching around him already, so worked up and hypersensitive, and now stretched so deliciously with him inside of you. His head rested heavily on that sensitive part of your walls, already pulsating against him and he squeezed your hands tighter.

“God, kid,” he moaned, “You feel fucking incredible.”

You took a deep breath in, tried to calm the tight coil you could already feel building low in your gut but it was no use. You felt yourself fluttering around him, your muscles clenching rhythmically as he pulled his hips back and slowly rolled them into yours again.

“You ok?” He checked in, and you raked your nails down his back as you craned your head up for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth, grinding his hips down and rubbing against your clit with his lower abs.

“So good,” you whimpered, tilting your hips up into his for more friction, “So good.”

He thrusted into you slow and deep, and you were already losing control. Burying his face in your neck, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured against you, “You’re ready to come already.”

You let out a frustrated cry and he felt you bear down on him, gritting your teeth to try and stave it off. He nipped his way back to your mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

“Oh no, kid. No way,” he groaned, rolling down into you with a bit more force, “Don’t hold back.”

Gently, he eased his thumb into your mouth as he ground his hips down onto your clit.

“This is for you, sweet girl,” he bumped his nose with yours and closed his eyes, cursing lowly when he felt you squeeze around him, “You let go whenever you need to. I’ll catch up.”

He thrusted deep into you again, staying in and rubbing his pelvis against your nub as you groaned. Your walls fluttered around him and you whined as you bit around his thumb.

“Give it to me, kid,” he coaxed. He gripped the bedsheets tightly in his fist, cursing and biting into the pillow to stave off his own release when he felt you start to clench rhythmically around him. Your back bowed off the bed as you stilled, everything tense and wound tight before it snapped. With a soft cry you clutched at him, biting down hard on his thumb as his hips continued to move slowly against you as you spasmed. He rested you gently against the pillows as you rode it out, not stopping his movements as you writhed and whimpered.

“Good girl,” he praised, a guttural groan clawing its way out of his chest, “God the things you do to me, tiger.”

Easing his thumb out of your mouth, he bit down hard on your bottom lip before dragging it into his mouth, parting your lips to glide his tongue inside.

The way he kept his movements slow and steady, not stopping as you came down from your high meant that you were soon climbing again. You made a strangled noise, feeble and needy, as you felt it start to build with his gentle thrusts, the rhythmic roll of his hips into yours, the slow drag of when he pulled back and the sweet satisfaction of when he filled you back up again.

“Wrap your legs around me kid,” he commanded breathlessly, “Nice and tight.”

You did as you were told, rewarded with a deep moan as he repositioned his weight on his hands, thrusting in deeper.

“Touch your clit for me, sweet girl,” he sighed, grinding into you, “Nice and gentle.”

You whined but he shushed you softly, licked the pads of your first two fingers before coaxing your hand down. You pressed down gingerly on your oversensitive nub, causing you to clench around him and he moaned, kissing you hard.

“That’s it, tiger,” he praised, “Just like how I would do it.”

But you whimpered, grabbing at his hand and placing it low on your belly.

“You do it better,” you whined, “Please Bill.”

“You sure, kid?” He asked, “I thought you didn’t want my hands—”

“Please,” you cut him off with your begging, feeling the pressure building in your stomach as your body thrummed, “Please just touch me.”

You didn’t need to ask again; he dragged his lips to the sweet spot on your neck, sucking on it as he gently pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger. You were so sensitive, already so close again that you let out a loud cry and surged forward. He groaned, thrusting in deep and doing it again.

“Bill,” the whimpers tumbled from your lips as you started to tighten around him, raking your nails down his back. He twitched and thrusted in hard, slamming into you with a loud groan.

“Fuck,” it was loud, almost a yell, as he pinched your clit and slammed into you again. It was enough to send you over the edge, tumbling into bliss a second time as you dug your nails into his back and tightened your legs around him. The feeling of your spasms around him triggered his own release and his hand shot out, gripping the headboard as he let out a loud cry. His back tensed, his hips thrusting in deep and staying there as he crushed you to him, groaning as he twitched through it. He couldn’t hold his weight as the aftershocks took over, his muscles jolting as he collapsed on top of you. He sighed, his chest heaving with deep breaths that he struggled to take. He stayed like that for a few minutes, his full weight crushing you to the mattress as he tried to catch his breath.

He got his wits about him after awhile, and raised up as much as he could, his arms shaky and his jaw still lax with pleasure.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled. Dazed, you managed a dopey grin.

“I think we’ll be doing that more often,” you said. He smiled, his own lopsided and nearly drunk.

“Are your cramps gone?” He asked, and you nodded.

“You feel good?” He questioned, and once again you nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, pecking your lips briefly.

“Good,” he said, keeping a close hold of you as he rolled off and onto his side. With a deep breath he sat up, struggling to get his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, wobbling slightly, and you shot up in panic.

“Bill, wait,” you said and he turned to you, but your face dropped in horror and embarrassment when you looked down. You had made a mess of him, blood staining his lower abdomen and his upper thighs, and your cheeks burned with humiliation.

“Don’t look down,” you begged, mortified. You scrambled to throw the sheets around yourself, grabbing at the towels to try and clean up, “Please don’t look down. I’ll clean you up.”

Two hands on your shoulders gently pushed you back down as you tried to stand, leaning over you to spread the towel back out on the bed and kissing your lips lightly.

“Tiger, relax,” he soothed, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you whined, “It’s gross. I made a mess on you.”

“Kid, you have literally thrown up all over me. Multiple times. A little blood is not going to gross me out,” he kissed you softly again, “It’s natural.”

“It’s gross. Can I at least clean you up?” You mumbled feebly, but he tapped your nose.

“No. Lie down, I’ll be back in a second,” and with no more room to argue, he shoved you gently back onto the pillow and made his way to the bathroom. He re-emerged a few minutes later, his front cleaned off and with a small container of baby wipes in his hand. Sitting beside you, he gently swiped between your legs with a wipe, cleaning you up as you groaned and threw your forearm across your eyes in embarrassment. But you let him work, dabbing you with another wipe before a crinkle of paper caught your attention, a gentle hand moving your legs further apart.

“Whoa, no fucking way,” you shot upright, grabbing his wrist and snatching the tampon from his hand as he looked at you with a bored expression, “Are you fucking insane?”

“You know, you can be a real prude sometimes tiger,” he quirked a brow at you, an amused grin tugging at his lips. You glared at him, incredulous.

“This is gross,” you accused, “How the fuck are you so okay with all of this shit? Who the fuck tries to put a tampon—”

He cut you off with a kiss, holding your face to him as you struggled.

“You know what? You’re right, kid” he nipped playfully at your nose and you swatted him, “No sense in wasting one when we’re just gonna go at it again in a few hours.”

#period kink #bill skarsgard #bff!Bill #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill HC #bill skarsgard fic

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starrystarrybabe · 5 years

Text

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER SIX (Ben Hardy x OC)

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hello, everyone! I’m currently writing this to make sure I don’t have a panic attack thinking about all the schoolwork I have to do. It’s finals season and a bitch is stressed. My brain needs a break from all the work I’ve been doing. I hope y’all enjoy this chapter and plz send me messages about the fic or feel free to submit content you want to make regarding the fic and the characters in it!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: implied sex, familial judgment, relapsing, cursing

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

Lily Anne is a very work-oriented woman. She’s always bound and determined not to waste a single minute, and tries to do as much as she can in one day as humanly possible.

For this reason, she made a recording studio both underneath Garden Lodge and learned how to sound mix and use music making technology for herself, because she does not want to depend on someone else to create the songs for herself and her band.

It is a tradition for everyone in Room 301 to basically move in during the recording time. They’ve done it for years now, and it maximizes efficiency and the amount of content they can produce.

Ezichi is an early riser and often wakes up before the rest of the band, cooking them breakfast and making them tea. She even takes requests from the rest of the band as to what they want to eat and will take out Reykja for a walk before she goes out to pick up the ingredients.

Naturally, Lily Anne is confused by Reykja’s insistent paws pushing her cheek at the crack of dawn instead of Ezichi’s. She even leaves the bedroom door open so that the puppy can jump up on the bed and wake her. When Lily Anne walks out of her room with her tiny dog, she’s confused by the closed door, but figures that maybe Ezichi was worn out and just needed her sleep. It’s understandable that she would get tired of waking up so early.

When Bron and Madi come downstairs two hours later expecting breakfast made by their favorite guitarist and find that the food has been prepared by their frontwoman instead, something is clearly not right.

Lily Anne knocks on Ezichi’s door. “Ezichi? Are you alright?”

She hears the rustling of sheets and a grumble in response.

Lily frowns. “Do you need Advil or something?”

She then hears quieted voices and leans in to try and hear what is being said, and raises a brow when she catches fragments of cursing.

Ezichi clears her throat and speaks up. “N-no, but I could use a cup of tea. My voice feels a little raw.”

Lily presses her lips together before looking down at the cup in her hand. She takes her tea the same way as Ezichi, with soy milk and one sugar packet, and figures that Ezichi could use the cup more than her. “I have a cup right here, I’ll just bring it inside.”

She turns the handle and before Ezichi can protest, enters the room.

A bra falls on her head from the doorway above her, and she takes it off, looking over to see Ezichi with the rumpled covers held up to her chest and her braids out of their usual bonnet, in a mussed up bun. Her underwear is in front of Lily Anne’s slippered feet, and next to her is Gwil, looking away with a beet red face.

He looks at Lily Anne and nods, acknowledging her presence.

Lily Anne nods, back, face neutral. “Hey, Gwil.”

“Hi, Lily,” he replies quietly.

Lily purses her lips and puts the teacup on Ezichi’s bedside table, looking at her friend and giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Sorry, Lily. I should’ve told you, but you were beyond angry at one of Bron’s song ideas, and I figured--” she begins apologetically, before getting cut off by Lily Anne’s dismissive wave.

“It’s alright, darling. We’re all adults here.” She turns to leave the room and pauses in the doorway. “Anything you two want? Tea? Food? Plan B?”

Gwil speaks up, smiling bashfully at Lily Anne. “Earl Grey tea with one packet of sugar would be just fine.”

Lily Anne nods, leaning against the doorway. “Anything else?”

Ezichi looks down, rubbing the back of her neck with the hand not holding up her covers. “Scrambled eggs and a Plan B, please.”

Lily nods, turning to go downstairs. “Got it. It’ll all be downstairs when you’re ready. I’ll just… close this.” She closes the door and heads downstairs to the kitchen, sitting down and resting her chin in her hand.

Madigan looks over at Lily. “Is she alright?”

Lily nods. “Her and Gwil should be down shortly.”

Bron snorts into her cup of tea, grinning. “I told you that we weren’t the only ones shagging, Mads.”

Lily makes herself another cup of tea to distract herself from the sudden urge to light a cigarette. “You’re washing the sheets, not me, alright?”

Bron smirks at her wife. “They could handle a little more liquid before they need to go in the wash.”

Madigan winks at her wife, and Lily Anne’s face squints up in disgust. “Jesus, Bron! I know it’s happening but I don’t need that much detail.”

The pair giggles and Lily Anne shakes her head. She’d kill for a cigarette right now.

---

Lily Anne throws down her headphones, rubbing her temples as she listens to the track of her singing. She’s tried to make this line sound perfect twenty times already, but it just isn’t coming out right, and she’s at the end of her rope.

“It sounds great, Lily! Can we just move on?” Bron asks from her reclined position on the couch, her head in her wife’s lap.

Lily shakes her head, turning around to face her. “No! It sounds like garbage, Bron. It’s not right yet. How do you not notice it?”

Ezichi and Madi look at each other, and Ezichi speaks up. “It’s good, Lily. I don’t see why you’re so upset about it.”

Lily Anne wrings her hands, groaning and covering her face.

Madigan stands up, placing a hand on Lily’s shoulder. “Why don’t we move on to another song, Lily? What about that one you just wrote?”

Lily looks up at her friend. “Which one?”

Madi smiles. “The one you named Waiting Room.”

Lily groans. “I can’t do that right now, or I swear to god I might cry.”

Ezichi shrugs. “That track could be really good, though! You’re in the right mood to sing it.”

Bron sits up. “Who knows? You could have a voice crack like in Gimme Shelter!”

Lily sighs, rubbing her eyes. “I guess… I’m just in a mood today. I’m so sorry that you have to deal with me like this, darlings.”

Ezichi hugs her friend from behind, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “It’s no problem, Lily. We put up with it because we love you unconditionally.”

Just then, Lily gets a text, and pulls out her phone.

Jamal (#1 cousin): are you coming to the reunion today? a bunch of cousins from Zanzibar are coming over to visit.

Jamal is her cousin, and one of her favorite members of her biological family. Lily frowns at the text. She didn’t get any notification that her family was getting together today before now.

Lily Anne: i didnt know this was happening. your mom didn’t say anything about it to me when we spoke last.

Jamal (#1 cousin): they made plans for this literally a week ago. she probably got stressed and forgot to tell you.

Lily Anne: got it. what time is this happening? i should probably do it just to get a break from recording. it’s been a rough day in the studio and nothing good is coming out from me.

Lily Anne looks to her bandmates. “Apparently there’s a family reunion today of my Indian relatives. I should probably go, I haven’t seen them in a while.”

Ezichi removes herself from Lily Anne and raises a brow. “Are you sure? The last time you saw all those people was at your grandmother’s funeral, and that went less than well.”

Lily Anne nods, closing her eyes. “I know, I know… but I’m not doing myself any good wasting time here, and maybe they’ve chosen to be a little less judgemental since Auntie Kash told them off then.”

Madigan sighs, looking over at Lily. “I don’t think going will do you any good, but I’m sure Kashmira and Jamal will appreciate you being there. I know Jer would appreciate it as well.”

Lily nods, smiling. “She always did like seeing me at family events.”

Her phone buzzes again.

Jamal (#1 cousin): it’s in three hours. If you’d like to come early, im sure mom would be happy to help you with your sari and catch up with you. i know i’d love to have some time with you as well before all hell breaks loose.

Lily Anne: got it. I’ll pack up my stuff and be over in a little bit.

Jamal (#1 cousin): great! i’ll tell my mom.

Lily stands up, sighing. “I’m going to the reunion. If you guys want to make music, feel free to record whatever you want, but I am going to take a shower and head on over to my Auntie Kash’s house as soon as possible.”

Ezichi, Bron, and Madi nod, smiling at their friend.

“We’ll record some of the backing tracks and drum lines today. Have fun!” Madi says, smiling.

Lily smiles back at her and leaves the room, pausing at the top of the stairs as she hears her bandmates talking.

“She’s in a mood because she didn’t come last night like the rest of us,” Bronwyn says.

Lily Anne frowns and shouts downstairs. “You’re an absolute wanker, Bron!”

“At least I’m not a sexually frustrated one!” Bron shouts back up at her.

Lily Anne stomps away, slamming the door with a huff.

She really wants a cigarette.

---

When she gets to Kashmira’s house, she knocks on the door, holding a bag with her sari inside of it. Her cousin Jamal opens the door and grins, hugging her. She gladly hugs him back.

“You’ve been a stranger as of late,” Jamal says when they pull apart. He points to her arm. “Is that a new tattoo?”

Lily Anne nods, smiling. “It is! I got it in New York after performing at Madison Square Garden, in memory of Jim and Freddie. It’s a tree-mallow and a zinnia.”

Jamal smiles, admiring the tattoo. “I like it. Were those their favorite flowers?”

Lily Anne nods, smiling. “Yep. Tree-mallow was Jim’s, and zinnias were Freddie’s.”

1994

Lily Anne sits in the dirt with a large sunhat on, making a small hole in the ground as her father coaches her through how to do it.

“Now what we do is we-- no, we don’t put a worm in the pocket of our overalls, put him back in the hole-- we put in the seeds,” Jim says, placing five zinnia seeds into Lily’s open palm as he takes the squirming creature and puts it in the dirt. “Drop them in, love.”

Lily Anne does as she’s told, and looks up at her father with big brown eyes. “What next, Daddy?”

Jim smiles and points to the pile of dirt next to the hole. “Take the dirt and cover the seeds, and pat it all in.”

Lily Anne nods and takes handfuls of dirt in her tiny hands, putting it back in the hole and using one hand to pat in the dirt gently. Then, Jim leans down and waters the dirt, and Lily Anne giggles, putting her hands out to turn the dirt on her fingers into mud. She does this and laughs, rubbing her hands together and clapping, splattering her face and overalls with specks of mud. She then looks up at her father, eyes wide.

“Whoops,” she says, lisping on the ‘s’. “Sorry, Daddy. I ruined my overalls.”

Jim smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, flower. Gardening is all about getting messy. We can wash the overalls.”

Jim would call his daughter flower, since she was not only named after one, but Freddie loved watching Jim plant different kinds of flowers and take care of them. They named her Lily because that was the first flower Jim ever planted at Garden Lodge. It seemed only fitting to call this lovely little girl flower.

Lily Anne smiles wide, and puts some dirt on her cheeks, giggling. She loves getting messy, and this is one activity where she won’t get scolded for getting her clothes dirty. She’ll take advantage of the opportunity to go wild in the dirt if her dad allows it.

Jim laughs, holding her wrists. “Not that messy, flower! Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

Lily Anne giggles, and hugs her father as he picks her up, bringing her inside.

---

“Daddy?” Lily Anne asks, abandoning her rubber ducky to face her father.

“What is it, flower?” Jim asks, putting shampoo in his hands to wash her hair. He gestures for her to turn around, and she does.

“What kinda flower did we plant today?” she asks, facing the mirrored wall. She can see her father’s face become soft, and a smile graces his lips.

“We planted a zinnia flower, love,” he tells her as he begins lathering up her hair.

“Is that the yellow one you always grow?” she asks, smiling.

Jim nods, and uses cups of water to wash out the suds in her hair. “Yes, it is. You’re very smart, flower.”

Lily Anne grins, revealing a smile with teeth that are beginning to grow in every direction.

Jim looks at the photo of Freddie he has on the toilet seat beside him before looking down at his daughter. “Do you know why we plant zinnia flowers, Lily?”

Lily purses her lips, her little face scrunching up in concentration. After a few moments, she shakes her head. “No, Daddy. Did you tell me why already?”

Jim thinks for a moment before shaking his own head. “No, I don’t think I have, flower.” He washes his hands in the bath water before grabbing her conditioner. “We plant zinnias because they were your Papa’s favorite flower.”

Lily Anne turns, grinning. “Really?”

Jim smiles and nods, beginning to lather up her hair again. “Yes, Lily.”

Lily smiles, and becomes quiet after a moment, resting her chin on her knees. Her facial expression changes to one of deep thought, and she blinks, looking down. Jim becomes concerned and once he’s done washing out the conditioner in her hair, gently takes one of her cheeks in his hand and turns her to face him.

“What is it, flower? You’re thinking very loudly,” he asks, sitting cross-legged on the fuzzy bath mat to be eye level with her.

“Did Papa see me plant that flower?” she asks.

Jim takes a moment to think and smiles gently at his daughter. “I think he did.”

Her eyes light up, and she moves quickly, splashing Jim in the process. Her chin rests on the edge of the tub. “Did I make him happy?”

Jim nods, holding out a towel for his daughter. “You always make him happy, flower.”

She climbs out of the tub and lets her father wrap the warm towel around her, giggling when he begins to dry her hair. “No matter how old and wrinkly I get, I’ll still make him happy?”

Jim nods, wrapping a towel around her hair. “You will always make him happy, Lily Anne.”

Lily looks up at her father. “Will I always make you happy, Daddy?”

Jim kisses her cheek. “Of course, flower. You could never disappoint me.”

Lily smiles as her Aunt Kashmira helps her with her sari, pleating the black fabric around her waist. She’s been catching up with her aunt and holds back a giggle as the older woman’s hands touch her sensitive waist.

Kashmira smiles, looking at her niece fondly. “You’re almost thirty years old and you’re still as ticklish as you were when you were a child.”

Lily Anne grins and allows her aunt to place the fabric over her shoulder, smoothing it out. “I’m almost thirty years old and I still can’t put on my own bloody sari.”

Kashmira shrugs and hands Lily Anne some heavy gold bracelets to put on her wrists. “Saris can be difficult. Especially this one. Your grandmother always did like the more delicate garments.”

Lily Anne nods, and looks in the mirror, admiring herself in Jer’s sari. “Didn’t my Papa help her pick out this one?”

Kashmira nods, smiling fondly. “That he did. She thought that the black with the gold and red would be too much, but Freddie told her that it would help her fit in at his concerts.”

Lily puts on some of Jer’s old earrings, and the gold ornaments dangle heavily on her lowest piercings, causing her to wince. “I always forget how bloody heavy these damn earrings are.”

Kashmira passes a large nose ring to Lily and smiles. “Here’s the final touch to your outfit, dear.”

Lily groans, but puts in the nose ring anyways, looking at herself in the mirror. “Auntie Kash, you’ve made me look like a proper Indian woman.”

Kashmira nods. “I may have gone overboard, but with the whole family coming….” She looks down, concerned. “They’ll still judge you, but at least you’re dressed like you just got off the plane from Zanzibar.”

Lily sighs, looking over at her aunt and holding her hands. “I appreciate you making me look the part, but between the two fathers, my unorthodox career choice, and the fact that I’m only half Indian, one outfit won’t make me any less of the family disappointment. But your efforts are appreciated.”

Kashmira looks tiredly at Lily, squeezing her hands. “I just want a calm family reunion without any drama.”

Lily squeezes her aunt’s hands back and smiles apologetically. “It won’t go down that way and we all know it, Auntie Kash.”

Kashmira nods before groaning, shaking her head. “Oh, shit.”

Lily frowns. “What is it?”

Kash sighs, rubbing her temples. “They have a new reason to throw a fit.”

Lily looks down, pursing her lips before her eyes widen in fear. “Oh, no. Is Jamal dating a non-Indian girl?”

Kashmira shakes her head. “No. But the tabloids have caught wind that you’re dating a non-Indian boy.”

Lily rolls her eyes, groaning. “First of all, the tabloids are full of bollocks. I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”

Kash raises a brow and crosses her arms. “Then what is your relationship with that Hardy boy? Because it looks pretty romantically charged to me.”

Lily sits on her aunt’s bed. “We’re just friends, Auntie Kash. No more, no less.”

Kashmira looks at her niece skeptically. “I heard that you two are trying to quit smoking together from Brian.”

Lily nods, looking up at the older woman. “That’s true! We are. So far, we haven’t broken, and it’s been a few months.”

Kash is quiet for a moment and sits down next to her niece. “I’ve also heard from Roger that when you weren’t on set, he was very much upset about it.”

Lily Anne scoffs. “Roger is full of bollocks and we all know it.”

Kashmira looks over at Lily. “The account was confirmed by Brian.”

Lily puts her head in her hands, groaning. “We’re just friends! That’s all! Friends who try to quit smoking together and spend hours in my garden talking about our issues, and walk our dogs together once or twice a week when we’re both around! That’s all we’ll ever be!” She looks up at Kashmira, hunched over.

Kashmira takes a moment before rubbing Lily Anne’s back. “That song you wrote--”

“Was about him. Yes. I wasn’t exactly subtle, and he still hasn’t made a move. Joe told me that he’s in love with me, but until I hear it from him, I will not get my hopes up.” Lily Anne huffs, shaking her head.

“Have you ever considered making the first move?” Kash asks gently.

Lily Anne looks at her aunt like she’s crazy. “And risk getting my heart broken? Hell fucking no! I’ve been there, done that, and I hated it. I give it a zero out of ten.”

Kash sighs, looking down at her niece. “Listen. I don’t know this boy, but he seems very nice, and different from the other men you’ve dated before. I think he’s just scared.”

Lily Anne stands up, gesturing to herself. “I am an average twenty-nine-year-old, racially ambiguous woman with a meager height of five foot two. I sage my bloody house and garden daily like an old woman. I go to an animal shelter once a week to pet all the animals. What’s so scary about me?”

Kashmira looks up at her niece. “You are a stunning young woman with a voice gifted to you from the gods and a stage presence that is one of the most powerful of any artists in this time. You’ve been through hell and back and haven’t given up when most would. You project confidence and do things that most people only dream of. Yes, you garden and go to animal shelters and aren’t physically imposing, but that makes everything else you do even more impressive. You’re special, Lily.”

Lily rolls her eyes, “No--”

“Yes. You are. Most everyone can see it. He sees it, and he’s afraid that he makes a move, he might lose it. Think about this, Lily: if he asks you and you say yes, he gains the world. If he asks you and you reject him, he loses the world. Would you so easily gamble the world?” Kashmira puts her hands on Lily’s shoulders, forcing her to look at her.

“...no,” Lily replies quietly. “Aunt Kash, I would buy the whole bloody world for him. He deserves it. But I thought the same thing about Frank, and look how that ended.”

Kashmira sighs, smiling gently. “Ben is different. You know it in your heart that he is.”

Lily rests her head on her aunt’s shoulder and lets the woman hug her before she hears the doorbell ring. Kashmira pulls away and fixes Lily’s hair.

“Lily?”

“Hm?”

“At least consider making a move, alright?”

“Alright, Auntie Kash.”

---

Lily Anne greets her cousins, a fake smile plastered on her face. It’s hurting her cheeks to keep this up. She’s ignored two comments about her weight, three comments about a gray hair, and five comments about her tattoos so far. The key is to take the compliments about the sari and block out the backhanded aspects of them. The family is sat around a coffee table, and cups of tea are being handed out by Jamal and Kash.

“Lily Anne, how are you? I heard that your band is nominated for some awards this year?” one of Lily’s older family members asks, smiling at her.

“I’m good. Everything is going pretty well, and yes, we are probably going to be nominated for some awards. The album did very well,” she responds, smiling.

“I also heard that the album is about your upbringing. I certainly hope you mentioned your Zanzibarian roots in some of the music,” a cousin named Kira asks.

This one is particularly bothersome and has always rubbed it in Lily Anne’s face that she is the better Indian girl, and the family is more proud of her than Lily.

“Yes, Kira. It is. I have a whole song in our mother tongue, and if you listened to my album, you’d know that,” Lily says, eyes flashing in anger.

Kira lifts her nose, sipping her tea. “I don’t listen to rock and roll. No offense to you, Lily, but a genre of music that glorifies crude behavior and encourages… questionable life choices are not what I want to expose myself or my children to.”

Lily Anne is about to respond but feels Kash squeeze her shoulder. She sips her tea instead, quieting down as the conversation continues.

“Lily, do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you chose a less risky profession?” Kira’s mother asks, looking at Lily with concern.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn’t married someone twice your age just to please your family?” Lily snaps back, sipping her tea.

One of her male cousins groans, rubbing his forehead. “Lily, we say this because we love you--”

“Bullshit!” Lily exclaims, putting down her cup. “The only ones in this family who truly love me are Kashmira, Jamal, and Jer.”

“Don’t curse in front of my children, Lily!” Kira exclaims, wrapping an arm around her little girl. “Don’t listen to her, my love. She’s just overreacting.”

Lily looks at the girl and puts down her teacup. “Darling, let me ask you a question.”

The little girl looks over and nods in approval. “What is it, Lily?”

“Answer me honestly, love. Do you want to grow up and be a housewife like your mother?”

The girl bites her lip before shaking her head. “No. I want to be a scientist, Lily.”

Lily nods. “Alright. If you get married, do you want to choose your husband or wife?”

The girl nods, and smiles. Her eyes light up. “Yes!”

“Alright! One more question, baby girl: do you want to express yourself with cool clothes and art?”

The girl bounces on the couch, grinning. “Yes! I want to have lots of overalls and sweaters and wear sparkly nail polish!”

Kira squeezes her daughter and the girl’s face falls. She leans back against the couch, quieting down. The tension is thick, and Kashmira clears her throat.

“There are some toys in the other room if you kids want to play with them. Go have fun, kids!” She says, watching as the children run off to play.

When the kids leave the room, one of Lily’s older cousins looks at her with a harsh glare. “That was ridiculous, Lily. You’re acting like a child.”

Lily scoffs, standing up. “At least I’m not acting like a wanker. Children are open-minded, and they love openly and have all these wonderful dreams, and wankers try to shut them down. So yes, I may be acting like a child, but children don’t reject people who need love and support just because of their sexuality or profession. Wankers, however, do just that.”

She moves to be in front of everyone, and spreads out her arms, gesturing to herself. “I am a person who despite all her flaws deserves support and love from a good family, and I have found a wonderful family in Roger and Brian, and my wonderful band members. So was Freddie. But because he wasn’t a perfect Indian boy, you left him out in the dust.”

“We care about tradition—“ Kira begins, glaring at her cousin.

“Fuck tradition!” Lily Anne exclaims with a barking laugh. “When has tradition ever been better than compassion and unconditional love? Jer, Bomi, and Kash bucked tradition, and they ended up being close with my Papa, who blessed them with his talents and generously provided for them if they needed it. All you greedy bastards expect me to help you out because I have money, and to do it because we’re related, but I am in no way obligated to help a group of wankers who have never done the same for me. So take your tradition and your judgment and shove it up your asses, because I won’t tolerate it anymore.” Lily Anne turns to Kash and Jamal, sighing. “I’m sorry. But I need to get away from these people before I give in to my desire to drink a gallon of bleach. I’m glad you thought of me, but I’m clearly not a valued member of this family.”

Kashmira nods, hugging her niece. “Thank you for giving it another go, at least.”

Lily smiles at her aunt. “I’ll meet up with you another time.”

Jamal hugs her and she grins, kissing his cheek. “Feel free to call me whenever, alright?”

Jamal nods, smiling. “Of course. I’ll let you know when I’m free to meet up.”

Lily nods, and as she leaves the room, she looks at the stunned Indians and hisses at them. “You make me proud to have the last name Mercury. I’d rather die than live as a Bulsara because of you all.”

The door slams behind her and she huffs, getting into her G-Wagon and letting out an anguished scream.

She wants a cigarette so fucking badly. She can’t take this anymore.

She then remembers that there’s a spare pack of Marlboros in her glove compartment and before the rational side of herself can act, she opens her glove compartment and takes out the pack and a lighter, fumbling with a cigarette and placing it between her lips.

As she lights it, she feels a wave of guilt and disappointment wash over her. She’s failed herself, and most of all, she’s failed Ben. She could throw up from guilt right now, but something about meeting with her family just put her over the edge.

She puffs on her cigarette and quickly inhales the entire thing before chucking the butt of the vile thing out the window and following that up with chucking out the whole box before speeding away.

She has to call Ben and face him, and she has to tell this to him to his face because she has fucked up so badly and he deserves nothing less than that. Parked in front of a random house in a suburb, she calls Ben with shaking hands, blinking back tears. He answers within five rings, and she’s faced with him on the phone screen, reclining on his couch with Frankie in his arms.

“Hi, Lil. How are you?” He asks, smiling. “I like the nose ring and the sari.”

She bites her lip, looking down and running a hand through her hair. “Th-Thanks. I wore it to a family event today.” Her voice cracks.

Ben frowns, and sits up, examining Lily Anne’s face. “I’m guessing that it didn’t go well?”

Lily Anne looks up, wiping her eyes. “Worse than it usually does.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Lily Anne sniffles, leaning back in the driver’s seat. “My nasty cousin Kira— she’s a real bitch, always has been-- and the rest of my extended family chose to openly judge me about my life choices and then claim that it’s only because they love me and are concerned for me, but that’s horseshit and I fucking know it.”

Ben nods, biting his lip. “So… I will admit that I don’t know much about your culture, but I can guess that it’s not very supportive of queer people, tattooed people, or entertainers.”

Lily Anne nods. “I got judged for all of the above. Throw in some more guilt tripping and you’ve got the whole picture of why I’m seen as a family disappointment.”

Ben sighs. “Jesus, Lily. I’m so sorry.”

Lily Anne begins to tear up, shaking her head. “I-I don’t know why I thought it would be different, but I just wanted to see if my family would finally accept me, but—“ she shakes her head, tears beginning to fall. “Nothing changed. It just got worse.”

Ben looks at her sympathetically and wants nothing more than to wrap her up in a hug and let her cry it out. “I’m so sorry, Lily. You deserve a better family than that, and you have so many people supporting you other than them. Their opinion doesn’t matter.”

Lily nods, her hands shaking. “I know. But something in me snapped, and-- and…” she begins sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Ben. I fucked up so badly. I broke my promise to you.”

Ben looks at Lily Anne through the screen with nothing but empathy in his eyes. She wipes tears from her own eyes, sniffling. “It’s alright, Lily. You’re only human.”

Lily wipes her eyes, shaking her head. “But I made a promise to you--”

“We both knew it was possible for one of us to break. Or for both of us to break. Addiction is hard, and sometimes we relapse. It’s alright, Lily. I’m not mad at you. I get why you did it.”

Lily Anne looks at Ben and sniffles, wiping her nose. “I just… I’m so upset. I cussed up a storm, caused a scene, relapsed, and to top it all off, I didn’t even get to eat everything I wanted to!”

Ben takes a hand through his hair and lets out a little laugh. “Today really hasn’t been your day, has it?”

Lily Anne laughs as well, wiping her eyes. “Yeah, it hasn’t.” She begins laughing after a moment, covering her mouth.

Ben smiles. “What’s so funny?”

Lily grins. “I’m so beyond sad and angry that I just have to laugh, and I can’t believe that I’m still so bloody upset about not having any food!”

Ben laughs as well, leaning back on his couch. “What food do you like?”

Lily smiles, wiping mascara from under her eyes. “There’s a place in London that I love called Indian Palace, and it has the best tikki masala, chicken korma, biryani, roti, and samosas that I can get without going to Kash’s house. At this point, they know my order by heart, and all I need to do is call and they know what to make.”

Ben nods, smiling. “I’ve never had most of those dishes before. I’d like to try them.”

Lily grins at him, snickering. “Most of it would be too spicy for your tastebuds, darling. Even mild would hurt you.”

Ben scoffs. “Listen, Mercury. I can handle some spice in my food.”

Lily shakes her head. “Not like Indian spices.”

They both take some time to compose themselves, and Lily Anne takes a deep breath.

“Do you feel better now?” Ben asks gently.

Lily nods, smiling. “Yes. Thank you for being so understanding and cheering me up, Ben. I appreciate it.”

Ben shrugs. “I know you’d do the same for me. If I can help you out in any way, I always will.”

Lily smiles, nodding. “The same goes for me. If you ever need anything, you know what number to call.”

Ben nods before frowning as Frankie barks. “Frankie, what’s going on? I’ll walk you in five minutes, girl.” He turns back to the camera apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Lily. Frankie is being impatient.”

Lily shrugs, smiling. “It’s alright. Go walk her and give her a treat for me. Thanks for talking with me, Ben.”

Ben smiles. “It’s no problem. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

Lily Anne nods and ends the call, sighing and leaning back in her car.

She listens to Leather and Lace on repeat until she gets home.

---

Ben walks into the little Indian restaurant the next day, and a hostess comes up to him, smiling.

“Welcome to Indian Palace! Are you waiting on anyone or would you like a table for one?” She asks, preparing to pick up a menu.

“Actually, I’d like to order something to go,” he says.

The hostess pulls out a notepad, smiling. “Of course! What would you like?”

He looks down at the notes on his phone. “I tried to remember everything she said she liked from here, but I can’t. She’s a regular customer here, though.”

The hostess nods. “What’s her name? I’m sure we know her usual order.”

“Lily Anne Mercury. She’s a friend of mine,” Ben says.

The hostess grins. “We love Lily! I know exactly what to get her, don’t you worry.” She begins writing down an order. “She’s the best, isn’t she?”

Ben nods. “She is. Also, she had a really bad day yesterday and didn’t get to eat any of her aunt’s Indian food, so if you could add what you feel she’d enjoy, I’d appreciate that greatly. I don’t care how much it is, as long as it makes her happy I’ll pay for it.”

The hostess nods and adds a few more items to the order. “Alright. Sit down and it should be ready in twenty minutes. It’s really nice that you’re doing this for her, and we’ll make her our top priority.”

Ben nods and sits in a booth, waiting for the food. The order is large and he doesn’t know what most of it is, but he doesn’t care. He trusts that the restaurant will take good care of Lily. All he has to do is be the deliverer of the food.

Twenty minutes later, the food is prepared and he carries the bags out to his car, driving off to pick up Frankie and go to Garden Lodge.

---

Lily Anne is penning the lyrics to a new song when her doorbell rings, and she gets up to look at the security footage. She sees a beagle and a tall blonde at the gate, and bags of what looks like take out. She opens the gate from inside, and opens her front door, leaning against the doorway in her sweats. She smiles as Frankie runs up to her and picks up the dog.

“What is all this, Ben?” She asks, scratching Frankie behind the ears.

Ben carries the bags inside the house with him and places them on the large kitchen island. “You said you wanted Indian food. I got you Indian food.”

Lily blinks, looking at the bags of food. “This is enough to feed a small village, Ben. What am I going to do with this much food?”

Ben smiles at her as she puts down Frankie. “I asked the hostess at Indian Palace what your usual order was, and told her that you had a bad day, so she should add whatever she felt would make you feel better. I don’t know what most of this stuff is, but it all smells great.”

Lily bites her lip, shaking her head. “All this must have cost you a small fortune, Ben! You didn’t have to do this for me.”

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to do it for you. Don’t worry about the money. It’s worth it if it makes you feel better.”

She smiles, and throws her arms around Ben, hugging him tightly. “I could cry right now I’m so happy.”

He hugs her back, grinning. “As long as you’re not crying from sadness I’m okay with tears.”

She looks up at him and grins, eyes bright. “You’re literally the best. You even brought Frankie to make me feel better.”

He shrugs again. “She always makes me feel better. I figured she would make you feel better too.”

After a moment Lily pulls away from the warm hug and begins to unpack the food. She squeals in delight when she takes out the tikki masala, jumping up and down. Reykja scratches at her pant leg and she looks down, shaking her head.

“We’ve discussed this before, darling. No spicy human food for you,” Lily says, looking down at the puppy.

Reykja whimpers and the woman sighs, ripping off a small piece of fresh roti and holding it down to the dog, who happily snatches it from her fingers.

“You’re a spoiled thing, aren’t you?” Lily looks up at Ben. “Can I give Frankie a small piece of roti? It won’t hurt her.”

Ben nods. “Sure thing. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Lily gives the beagle a piece of the bread and the dog takes it before running off to play with her friend. Lily watches as the two bolt to the corner of her living room filled with toys. The dogs get along so well, and it makes Lily happy to see the two fur babies playing together.

Ben looks over the large spread of food, and raises a brow when Lily laughs at the sight of an orange drink.

“What’s so funny?”

Lily smiles at the drink. “This is mango lassi. It’s like a mango smoothie, but less thick. People who can’t handle spice need it to soothe their tongues.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Very funny. I think I can handle eating some of this food without needing it.”

Lily raises her brows before snorting. “Sure thing, Ben. We’ll see what dish breaks you.”

---

“Holy shit. Lily, pass me the lassi,” Ben begs, his face flushed beet red. “My mouth is on fucking fire right now.” Lily laughs and passes Ben the drink. He got through at least five different kinds of chicken before he tapped out, which is actually pretty impressive. The curry can be quite spicy, and it certainly isn’t mild.

“You did pretty well for a white boy, Hardy. I expected the tikki masala to get you,” she comments, passing him the drink.

He drinks it desperately, and when he’s done panting, he wipes sweat from his forehead.

“Fucking hell… that’s delicious, but holy shit-- dear God!” He takes another slurp as the spice comes back for a second round. “It fights back! What kind of food fights back?”

Lily Anne leans back, grinning. “Indian food. At least for more sensitive tastebuds. I’ve been eating this since I was a baby. I’m well-acquainted with spice.”

Ben leans back, catching his breath. “I see why you like this so much. It feels comforting when it’s not setting your mouth on fire.”

Lily laughs. “Yeah, it does. My Nanni Jer made the best curry, and this is pretty much exactly what it tasted like. Her’s was spicier, though.” Ben’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, causing Lily Anne to laugh. “You wouldn’t survive dinner at my Aunt Kash’s house, but it sure would be entertaining to see you try.”

Ben rolls his eyes, and looks over the different dishes that have been laid out over the coffee table. “I’m so glad you enjoy watching me suffer.”

Lily shrugs. “You gave a valiant effort, and that’s enough for me. I’m proud of you for trying everything. The rest of the food would definitely be too spicy for you, but I’ll be fed for a good long while.”

Ben gestures to the vast array of food. “Good. That’s less grocery shopping you have to do.”

Lily looks over the containers of takeout and shakes her head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you did all this for me. What did I do to deserve this? I fucked up big time and this feels like a reward.”

Ben looks over at her seriously. “Progress isn’t strictly uphill. It can fluctuate. But it doesn’t matter how many times you relapse as long as you continue trying to quit. You need to be easier on yourself, Lil. Sometimes we need a little comfort in order to get back on our feet again.”

She looks at him tiredly and sighs. “I’m trying to be better to myself.”

Ben nods. “I know. But you’re struggling with that, and that’s why I’m here.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand.

She smiles, squeezing his hand back and closing her eyes. “Thank you, Ben.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, and both contemplate just how far they would go for one another to be happy.

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#starry writes #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #lucy boynton #borhap cast #borhap fic #borhap imagine

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fluffyllamas-23 · 6 years

Text

I should be doing homework, but whoops I’m not. This is part two to this fic.

Fic is under the cut

“When is your mom bringing Oreo back?” Zoey asks sleepily into Hayden’s chest.

It’s mid morning, and neither of them had gotten much sleep. It’s been about five days since Hayden came down with the head cold from Hell, and although he’s finally starting to feel human again, he’s still snoring because he’s still congested beyond belief. Zoey is completely drained, and has no energy to do anything but lie there, half asleep.

“She texted me a little while ago that she was bringing her back later today,” Hayden rasps, his voice is still congested, but nowhere near as badly as the past few days. “I think she likes the dog better than she likes me.”

“I like Oreo better than you, too.”

“Wow, thanks. Love you, too.”

She chuckles weakly, nuzzling closer to him, “you’re cute and all…but Oreo will always be cuter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, “whatever, I like Oreo more than all of you anyways.”

“Oreo is the best, it’s okay.”

“True,” he grins.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, eyelids drooping.

“I’m fine…I should be asking you that. Are you alright?”

“Mmm…” she hums, “just tired.”

“You sure? You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“Well, I hope not,” she groans, “I’m just so tired.”

“You haven’t been sleeping much…and you’ve been working, and making sure I don’t die,” he sighs, looking down at her so he can brush her hair off her face, “thank you, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course I’m going to take care of you, you don’t have to thank me.”

“You have the day off, don’t you?”

“Mmm…no..there’s a visit tomorrow.”

He grimaces, “visits are always awful. When do you work?”

“Three to eleven…probably longer,” she sighs, “no, definitely longer, but I’m not sure when.”

“Well…try and get some sleep, it’s only ten.”

She hides her face in his chest, “are you alright? You don’t need anything?”

“Zo, I’m fine, I promise.”

“You still sound like shit.”

“I know, but I feel better than I sound.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, closing her eyes.

Hayden starts to try and get up, but she tightens her grip on him and moves even more on top of him, “excuse you, sir. Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to let you sleep.”

“Nuh-uh. You slept on top of me and snored in my ear for five days. You owe me.”

Hayden chuckles, “alright, you make a valid point.”

He wraps an arm around her and pulls the blanket over them. She intertwines her legs with his just as she’s hit with another wall of pure exhaustion.

Hayden is half asleep on the couch, cuddling with Oreo and watching Netflix when the front door opens.

He shoots up into a sitting position, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand.

“What time is it?” He asks tiredly.

She immediately drops her bag on the floor and bursts into tears. Hayden is at her side in an instant, he wraps her up in a hug, and she slumps into him.

She’s exhausted. She was exhausted before her shift even started, but it had gone so much longer than she was anticipating (twelve hours), and now it was three thirty in the morning, and her body throbs and feels heavy with fatigue, and she’s desperate for sleep.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so tired,” she cries.

“Okay, okay, breathe, honey,” he says softly. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

She groans weakly, knees buckling. Hayden catches her with a yelp before she crumples to the floor.

“M’not feeling well, Hayden,” she mumbles, eyes burning with exhaustion.

He scoops her up so that he’s carrying her bridal style, “are you not feeling well because you’re tired, or because you’re sick?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles, shrugging listlessly.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Everyone works on Saturdays.”

“When’s the last time you’ve had a day off?” He demands, putting her on the bed. She flops over on her side and curls into herself.

“Um…eight days, I think.”

He purses his lips, “when do you work?”

“‘leven t’seven.”

“Are you kidding me? Honey, you need to call out tomorrow.”

Zoey mumbles something incoherent, and when Hayden looks down, she’s fast asleep.

She wakes briefly as he changes her into something more comfortable, but by the time he pulls the blankets over her, she’s dead asleep again.

“Zoey, you need to call out of work,” Hayden says, watching from the bed as she stumbles around the room.

“Can’t…needa work…we’re short-staffed…haveta…go,” she mumbles, the room suddenly tilting. She sinks to the floor shakily, getting onto her hands and knees as she lets out a groan of discomfort.

“No,” he says, kneeling next to her, “no you’re done. Call the store and tell them that you’re sorry, but they’ll need to find someone else to cover your shift…and maybe every shift for the next week.”

“I can-”

“-Zoey,” he snaps, “you physically cannot make it to work. You are on the ground, how the hell are you planning on getting to work? I don’t want you driving this tired.”

“I-“

“-You came home in tears, honey. You’re exhausted, call a manager and tell them you can’t make it.”

“I-I…I…okay…Hayden, I really don’t feel well.”

“I know,” he says softly, “you’ll feel better when you get some sleep.”

And they really thinks she just needs to sleep. That is, until she wakes up after a solid eighteen hours at 3 in the morning, feeling like death.

“Hayden,” she rasps, coughing into the blankets.

He inhales sharply, and looks around bleary-eyed, “Huh-wha? …Oh, hey. Look who’s back from the dead.”

“Hey, could you do me a huge favor?” She asks, patting his chest weakly.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I think…um…sleeping didn’t help…could you go get me Advil or something.”

He puts his hand on her forehead and then sucks his teeth, “yeah, you’re running a fever.”

“What time is it?” She asks, going into a spluttering coughing fit.

He attempts to pull her into a sitting position, but she’s so tired and weak, she resembles a rag doll more than she does a human.

“Geez, Zoey,” he winces, “that doesn’t…sound good.”

She groans into the comforter, “you didn’t answer my question.”

She coughs again, and he stacks up a couple of pillows before propping her up on them. He glances at the clock, “it’s…ah…about three thirty.”

Her eyelids droop and she gives a weak little cough, “oh…why were you sleeping so late? Are you okay?”

He blinks, “it’s three thirty in the morning, Zo."

“What?” She squawks, which triggers another coughing fit.

“Relax, it’s okay. You needed it.”

She groans, dropping her head back, “nnnnngh.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, kissing her too-warm forehead.

Zoey is pretty sure they’re cursed to never sleep. Before, it was Hayden keeping Zoey up, and now it was the other way around.

By the time morning rolls around, they’re both sleepy and ready to go back to bed. Instead, Zoey is curled up on the couch with a blanket, and Hayden is standing in front of her with his hand on her cheek.

“You want some tea? You’ve been coughing a lot.”

“I can get it…I feel bad I kept you up,” she rasps, “you should go back to sleep.”

He cocks a brow, “you’re not serious, are you?”

“Huh?” She frowns, struggling to get up.

He pushes her back down gently, “Oh my God, Zo, will you just lie down? I’m not even sick anymore. You’re basically dead.”

She groans, “I hate sitting around.”

“I know, but you still have a fever,” he says, crossing his arms. “Just rest and let me take care of you. Please?”

“Okay…but only because I’m exhausted,” she mutters, coughing into her blankets.

“Good. What do you want to eat?”

“Nothing…I’m not hungry.”

“You didn’t eat anything yesterday, you need food. Does anything sound appealing?”

She shakes her head, “could you make me some tea though? My throat is killing me.”

He sighs. Her appetite always goes right out the window when she’s sick, and it’s a struggle to get her to eat anything.

“How about broth or something?”

“I guess.”

“How’s your stomach?”

“S’fine…just not hungry.”

“It’s been a week, Zo,” Hayden frowns, handing her a cup of hot tea.

“Huh?” She frowns, brain fuzzy from the fever.

“You’ve been sick for a week, I don’t think this is just a cold.”

“Colds last seven to ten days,” she mumbles, fully aware that she shouldn’t be this weak and fatigued with a cold.

“You sound like hell.”

“I know.”

“You look like it too.”

“Hayden, stop,” she groans, head throbbing.

“Sorry,” he sighs, “I’m sorry. I just really hate how awful you’re feeling.”

She takes a sip of the tea, before shoving the cup weakly back towards him. She’s too tired to hold it any longer, and just wants to go to sleep.

“All done?”

“M’tired,” she blinks.

Hayden puts it on the coffee table, and then presses his hand to her forehead, “you still have a fever.”

“Figured,” judging by how sluggish and achy she’s feeling, it doesn’t come as much of a shock.

“I think I’m going to call your doctor.”

“Noooo,” she croaks, going into a coughing fit.

“You’ve had a fever for nearly a week. This isn’t just a cold.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she groans, head lolling to the side as her eyelids droop.

“I’m not being dramatic. You haven’t been to work in eight days, you never call out either, I have to practically force you to. We’re going to the doctor.”

“Fine,” she mumbles.

He nods once, “I’m going to go call…try and get some sleep, do you need anything? Want to go back to bed?”

“Don’t wanna move…too tired.”

“Okay,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair before he bends down to kiss her forehead, “I’m really sorry, Zo.”

“For what?”

“Getting you sick…this is my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself, it’s okay.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Just go call the doctor. Stop feeling guilty, I was going to get sick at some point. I’m not mad, you can’t be either.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs.

“Wow, what a great doctor’s appointment,” Zoey grumbles from the passenger’s seat. “I swear, she’s the most incompetent doctor I’ve ever gone to.”

Hayden glances at her out of the corner of his eye before focusing back on the road, “she wasn’t that bad.”

“She literally listened to my chest for two seconds, shrugged and said ‘I dunno what’s wrong…could be the flu…could need antibiotics.’”

He grimaces, “yeah, she sucked.”

She couldn’t get in to see her regular doctor, so the receptionist got her in to see another one neither of them had heard of before, and it’s soon apparent why.

Zoey coughs miserably, pinching the bridge of her nose, “hey, Hayden?”

“Yeah? You okay?” He asks, looking over at her.

“Could you take me home before you get them? I really just want to lie down…I don’t feel well.”

He frowns, “you sure? The pharmacy is right here.”

“Please?” She asks, sounding so small and tired and broken, his heart aches.

“Yeah, okay…are you feeling worse?”

She nods mutely, curling even tighter into herself as she coughs.

Hayden grips the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turn white. Hopefully the medications help, because he hates seeing her so miserable.

She spends most of the drive home half-asleep, facing the window. When he finally pulls into the driveway, he touches her shoulder.

“Zoey? Wake up, honey,” he says softly, rubbing her back. He manages to get her into the house and lying down before pressing his lips to her forehead, temple and cheek. “Are you good?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbles as he pulls the blankets over her.

“I’ll be back soon, text me if you need anything, okay?”

She nods, blinking heavily, “thank you.”

“Zoey…I don’t like this idea.”

“Hayden,” she whines, looking up at him from beneath the blanket with big, fever bright eyes. “Pleeeeeease?”

“You’re still sick.”

“But this is the best part of the holidays,” she croaks weakly before coughing miserably.

“I’m not dragging you around in the freezing cold with that God-awful cough,” he grimaces.

“Haydeeeeennnn.”

“Zoeeeeeeeey,” he mocks, quirking a brow as a smile plays on his lips.

“Shut up you jerk.”

He laughs, “honey, you’ve been sick for two and a half weeks and you’re just getting worse. I think we should be going to the emergency room, not out looking at Christmas lights.”

“We’re going, grab my coat, bitch.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I just want to go look at Christmas lights,” she moans dramatically.

He bursts out laughing, “Zoey."

She shoots him a grin that he thinks is her attempt at flirting, but she looks too miserable and out of it to accomplish what she wants.

Still though, it's an adorable fail.

She bats her eyelashes at him, "hey, hot stuff, you wanna-" she breaks off into a coughing fit.

“Honey,” he sighs.

"Just ten minutes. I just want to look at them," she says, looking at him hopefully.

He purses his lips, "okay. Ten minutes. That's it. Don't try and weasel anymore time out of me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

He squints at her, “I don’t believe you.”

She chuckles, which turns into a coughing fit, “I really do promise this time…ten minutes is all I can take, I think.”

A few minutes later, he’s shoving a hat over her head, and wrapping a scarf around her neck.

“Hayden, this is overkill,” she whines, voice muffled by the scarf.

“It’s not overkill,” he said, “and if you want to go walk around in the cold while you’re this sick, you’re going to be bundled up.”

It seems like as soon as she’s in the cold air, her coughing increases tenfold, as does Hayden’s worry.

“Zoey.”

“I’m fine,” she croaks between coughs.

“I think we should go back inside.”

“You said I have ten minutes.”

He purses his lips, “fine. Just try not to die on me.”

They lapse into silence, but it’s clear pretty quickly that Zoey is struggling. They’re stopped at the first house in the neighborhood, and Zoey slumps into him, suddenly too exhausted to stand up without help.

“Hey,” he frowns, when she starts coughing again “I know I said ten minutes…but you sound really bad.”

She tries to get out that she’s starting to feel worse, but she can’t stop coughing. She can’t even stop long enough to get in a breath.

Hayden feels his heart pound in his chest when she begins wheezing. This is bad. This is really bad.

“Hayd-“ she croaks out before her lungs are trying to eject themselves from her chest again.

“Alright, we’re going to the emergency room.”

Spots are dotting her vision, and she feels him scoop her up and carry her bridal style. She buries her face in his chest, the coughing finally having subsided.

“I c-can’t breathe,” she wheezes, trying to take another deep breath that just triggers another coughing fit.

“I know.”

“Hayden, it’s not your fault,” she croaks weakly from her hospital bed before resuming coughing.

“You have fucking pneumonia, Zo,” he says, pausing briefly before resuming his pacing. “How did I not know you had pneumonia? You sound awful.”

She just shrugs, too tired from the amount of coughing she’s done. Upon arrival at the emergency room, the doctor had her inhale deeply, and as soon as she did, it trigged a cough that would not subside. She tried stopping for the chest x-ray, but that just made her cough harder. Her chest burns, it’s as if someone had ignited her lungs, and she feels like she’s burning from the inside out.

She’s also exhausted from the fever that had spiked to a worrisome one hundred and four, and left her weak, achy and tired.

Hayden chews on his bottom lip, staring at her with concern etched into his features. She looks so small in the hospital bed, which is what everybody says when describing their loved one in the hospital, but she really does. Especially hooked up to all of the machines.

“Will you just come lay with me?” She chokes out. Hayden nods and climbs onto bed next to her.

“I’m so sorry, Zo.”

“About what?”

“I should have gotten you to the hospital earlier….now you’re going to be stuck in here over Christmas- oh my GOD YOU’RE GOING TO BE STUCK IN HERE OVER CHRISTMAS.”

“Hayden, shut up,” she croaks, coughing into his chest.

“I’m just really sorry.”

“It’s o-“ she breaks off coughing, and grips his shirt tightly. Hayden grimaces and rubs her back, guilt eating at the pit of his stomach.

He has to do something to make up for this - he’s the one who got her sick in the first place, and now she was in the hospital.

“Hayden?” She croaks, opening her eyes.

“Oh you’re up! How are you feeling?” He asks, wheeling around on his heel to look at her.

She just groans before the coughing starts up again.

He grimaces, “I wish you would have slept longer.”

“Me too,” she mumbles, eyelids drooping.

Hayden had sat up with her all night, listening to her cough and sniffle and sneeze. She didn’t even fall asleep until two and a half hours ago, and she’s exhausted.

He walks over to her and presses his hand to her forehead, “you’re still running a fever.”

“Thought so,” she mumbles weakly, coughing harshly into the blankets.

Hayden grimaces, each cough makes him feel even more guilty, because he can’t shake the feeling that it’s his fault she’s in the hospital.

“I decorated your room,” he says, cupping her burning cheek.

“Huh?”

“For Christmas!”

“Oh,” she mumbles sleepily, blinking heavily.

“Do you like it?”

“Mmm,” she nods, closing her eyes. “S’nice.”

Hayden sighs, he knows she’s too miserable and exhausted to really care, but he’s hoping she’ll start feeling better soon and they can enjoy some sort of Christmas celebration together.

“Zoey, wake up,” Hayden says, poking his head in the room. When she doesn’t wake up, he walks over to her, and shakes her with one hand gently, “Zoey, wake up.”

“What do you want?” She slurs, forcing her eyes open. The doctors had finally given her something to suppress the coughing, because she hadn’t been able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

“I bought you a present.”

She squints at him, “what are you doing? Why are you holding your jacket like that?”

He opens it, revealing a tiny grey kitten, “look.”

“You…am I hallucinating, or is that a kitten?”

“It’s a kitten!” He cries happily, grinning widely at her. “He doesn’t have a name though.”

“Why…um…why did you buy a kitten?”

“Well, you’ve been wanting one…and I didn’t know what else to do…so I panicked,” he says, placing the kitten on her stomach.

The kitten immediately lets out a tiny ‘meow’ and curls up on her stomach.

“He’s so fucking cute, ohmigod,” she squeaks.

“You like him?”

“Yeah, duh,” she mumbles, scratching him behind the ear.

“What do you want to call him?”

“Um…I dunno…um…Toby?”

“Oooh I like that.”

“Me too,” she coughs lightly, eyelids drooping, ‘m’really tired.”

Hayden kisses her forehead, “get some sleep.”

“Hayden?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you…I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#Hayden and zoey #OCs #sickfic #pneumonia #fever #coughing #I need to get off my ass and do homework bc i'm running out of days rip

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fanofafan2ff · 7 years

Text

51: Jumping The Broom

Madison

I was gonna kill Chris.

Leave it to him, to not only get Mijo drunk as a fucking skunk the night before his wedding, but he managed to get ALL the groomsmen pissy drunk last night. He strolled in the hotel room at 5 am this morning and not even fifteen minutes later, his head was in the trash can, puking his brains out. I wanted to slit his throat. Mel was gonna kill them.

I let him get it all out of his system before helping him get in the shower. There was no way in hell he was sleeping next to me smelling like that. The shower helped him sober up a little but, he still needed to sleep it off. He didn’t have much of a choice.

Kaya let me know she was getting Mijo together, mind you she was drunk herself. But, she was always the one to sober up the quickest. Her, Mel, Ashley, and some of the other women from Mel’s family went out last night too. From the looks of Snapchat, they were all lit last night. Between the drinks, the dancing, and all around atmosphere of Miami, they looked like they had a fantastic time. If I wasn’t this pregnant, I would have been down there shaking ass too, ha.

After getting Chris in bed, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So, I resorted to watching TV and rubbing over my baby bump. I was so excited for my baby girl to get here, I swear. With all the stress, wight gain, and swelling I was going through during this pregnancy, I was beyond ready for her to get here.

I was finally gonna have a mini me. Christian was so excited about being a big brother, it was the cutest thing! He and Chris had a talk about making sure they protect her at all times, and I could only shake my head. I could just see it now, they were gonna treat her like a little girl all her life.

Chris had to be the most excited. Right after the baby shower, he was already planning to redo the nursery. Mind you, we had it done already, all in neutral colors of course. But he was ready to throw every shade of pink in the room as soon as we got back home. I had to get him to pump the brakes. It was cute though.

As I watched Living Single, I couldn’t help but to think about the future. We were gonna have two kids running around. That made me smile, coming from being an only child, I knew Christian would love the company. The other thing that was floating around my head, was the fact that I was about to be Chris’s wife.

The thought alone brought tears to my eyes for the millionth time. I was such an emotional wreck these days, I couldn’t stand myself. I was gonna be able to spend the rest of my life with my bestfriend and our children, what could be better than that?

It was only 9:32 am when I checked the alarm clock on the night stand, and I was starting to get hungry. Knowing Chris was gonna have to wake out of his drunken slumber soon, I made sure to order enough food for him to munch on. I made sure to eat and take my vitamins before jumping in the shower. I washed and made sure to wash my hair. Just as I wash washing the deep conditioner out of my hair, I heard Chris dragging his feet into the bathroom.

“Good morning sunshine.” I laughed as he groaned. Instead of answering me, he went straight for his toothbrush and got to work on that stanking mouth. He brushed twice and gargled with mouth wash. “Good morning baby.” His voice was so deep in the morning, it always made me squirm.

“How do you feel babe?” “Like shit.” He replied. “You need advil or anything?” I washed the last of the conditioner out my hair. “Nah, I ain’t got a headache or nothing. I just feel shitty.” He admitted. “Well, I already ordered food if your hungry. It should still be hot.”

“Forget the food, you looking like a whole meal.” He watched me through the glass shower, like a damn vulture. I grinned and rubbed over my bump, posing real quick. “You see this ring blinking too? Issa garnish.” I said making him laugh.

“Babyyyy! I’m gonna be your wife!” I gushed. I rung the excess water out of my hair before washing my body off again. “I know. I done lost my mind for real.” I shut the water off and rolled my eyes at him. “That’s how you feel, baby daddy?” “Mhm, just send my ass to the crazy house.” He grinned.

“Hand me my towel please.” He grabbed my towel and came over to wrap me in it. I got on my tippy toes to peck him quickly. “Are you excited for today? Our bestfriends are getting married!” “I know, shit crazy.” He replied. I agreed and moved to the second sink to brush my teeth.

“You kissing me with stank mouth?” He playfully gagged. “You’ve kissed me after I’ve had nastier things in my mouth.” I smirked. Instead of replying, he returned my smirk and exited the bathroom. I scrubbed my teeth before applying some moisturizer to my hair. I opted to wear something comfty, since today was gonna be chaotic.

I got dressed while Chris ate. After I was dressed, I climbed back into bed. I made sure to call my dad to check on Christian. He insisted on staying with his Papa last night, latching onto him all throughout dinner. My dad loved it though. They didn’t get to see each other often, so he was all for it. Christian thought he was slick though, he knew his cute face and charm always suckered Tasha in baking him something. Another reason he chose to leave with them last night.

“Babe.. nah. Never mind.” Chris started. “What happened?” “Nothing, for get it.” Now I really wanted to know. “Chris what is it?” “What room Ashley staying in again?” He asked. “She’s two doors down, why?” He chuckled ans shook his head. “What happened?” I rose my brow. “I seen Austin creeping in there this morning when we got back.”

My brow rose even higher. “Austin? Your Austin? Your cousin Austin? Like Ashley’s ex boyfriend was sneaking in her room this morning?” I said in a hushed tone as if they could hear me. “Yeah, nigga.” He replied. He climbed in the bed with me, making sure to lay his head on my thigh.

“They’re getting back together.” I gushed. “Or they just fucking.” Chris shrugged. “Really, Chris?” I rolled my eyes. “What? It’s a possibility. You know they both don’t know what they want.” He said referring to both of them dating a bunch of people in the last few months. “I just hope they know what the hell they’re doing this time around.” Together or not.

Mel’s make up artist was so fed up with her shit. It was the funniest shit ever, considering it was her cousin. Every time she touched up her makeup, Mel would start crying again. The last time, she threatened to beat her ass in the parking lot as soon as they were done throwing rice. I was dead.

She had already gotten all the bridesmaids, maid of honor, and Mel’s mom’s makeup all done, with the help of her crew. We all needed to be dressed soon, but in the meantime, we were all chilling in the bridal sweet. We all lounged around and drank champagne (apple cider for me of course) and had girl talk.

Mel’s mom took the time to tell her how much she loved her and was so excited for this day. She also talked to us about how wonderful yet challenging marriage was. It was nowhere near being boyfriend and girlfriend anymore. We all took it in, absorbing the information.

When it was time to get dressed, Kaya helped me get dressed and Mel’s cousin touched up my makeup before we all waited for Mel to make her appearance. Kaya played with her hair, while I rubbed over my belly. “I have tea.” Kaya whispered. I almost didn’t hear her.

“Hm?” I hummed. “Ms. Maid of Honor got her back blown out last night.” Kaya sang. I looked at her to continue. “This morning, around like 5:30, I got up to pee and you know how her room is next to mine? Girl, she was getting her back blown ouutttttt!” Kaya giggled. “All I hear was yes, yes, Austin, yes!” She continued.

My eyes bulged. “Oh my God!” I whispered. “Chris told me he peeped Austin creeping in there this morning!” I confirmed her story. “Girl yes! They were going at it. Headboard knocking, drunk, loud sex. I’m so happy for her though. Finally got the dust knocked off that thang.” Kaya said making us share a laugh.

“Hey, if she likes it, I love it.” I shrugged. “I know that’s right.I just hope they know what the hell they’re doing.” She agreed. “You and me both.” I nodded. Speaking of the devil, she stepped out in the living space we were in, to see the smirks on our faces. Kaya being Kaya watched as she strolled over to the other side of the room to grab her jewelry.

“You gliding reaaaal good for a bitch that got her shit rocked like that last night.” The words couldn’t float around the room for a second before Ashley’s face turned red. She grinned but covered her face in embarrassment. “I hate y’all.” She muttered. We only laughed and high-fived.

Before we could tease Ashley anymore, Mel emerged from the room in her lace Lazaro gown, accompanied by the matching veil. My eyes filled with tears immediately. “Madison, don’t start me up again!” She whined. “I’m sorry, you just look so beautiful! I can’t help it.” I sniffled.

She thanked me and her mom handed her her bouquet before we were all called to the hallway. They told us that the groom and groomsmen were downstairs already. We all crowded the elevator and made our way down, leaving Ashley and Mel with her mom and the wedding planner.

They escorted us towards the ballroom, we could see Mijo and his groomsmen doing what they did best. Clowning around. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Chris though. I watched as he chewed his gum and laughed at whatever Mijo was telling him. My baby daddy was such a snack.

The music was cued and it was time to get the show on the road. The officiant took his place up front, the groomsmen made their ways down the aisle first. They had Chris and Mijo enter from a different door, standing in their respective spots. The bridesmaids made their way down the aisle next, when it was my turn, Christian-who was sitting with his grandparents- screamed “Hi mommy!” He was so cute.

Ashley strolled in after us. After her was Dominic, carrying the rings. His little cute self had a personality just like his daddy’s. So, on his way down the isle, he was saying hello to everybody and their mothers. The flower girls came down last and everyone knew what was next. I watched Mijo take a deep breath before “Here Comes The Bride” began to play softly.

And there she was. She strolled in with her mom on her arm, walking her down the aisle just like she said she would years ago when we all sat in our dorm rooms eating ramen for the millionth time that week. It was crazy how she had dreamed of all of this and now she was living it. My bestfriend was getting married to the man she loved.

It was surprising to see that she hadn’t shed a tear, but was in fact smiling the whole way down the aisle. Mijo’s expression matched her and I could tell all the nervousness, stress, tears, and doubt were all erased in this exact moment.

“Let’s make some noise for Mr. and Mrs. Barry Bradford!” DJ Esco announced as they strolled through the door. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were included in their little welcome dance, but when it was time for their first dance we cleared it and sat in our assigned seats. The first thing I did was slip my shoes off, and changed into something more comfortable, I couldn’t take it anymore.

Kenny Lattimore’s “For You” played as they swayed to the beat. It was so beautiful. It was so refreshing to see them both so happy (and calm, since this wedding had them going crazy). Chris stood behind me rubbing my belly as we swayed in the crowd.

Before dinner was served, Mel’s mom blessed the food. During dinner Christian found his way over to us and I couldn’t help but gush at how cute my pumpkin was in his little suit. Since Chris had cut his hair a few months ago, he was on track to be just like daddy so he had his hair cut too. They were looking like twins more than ever now.

He sat on Chris’ lap and ate off his plate while everyone engaged in different chatter. Kaya tapped my leg and nodded towards Austin and Ashley who were mighty close. You would have thought these fools had gotten married today the way they were on each other. I tapped Chris and he grinned at the sight. “My boy!” He said out loud, grabbing Austin’s attention. He was so annoying.

After the newly weds cut the cake, it was time for the toasts. Mel’s mom went first. She had everyone in here misty eyed as she talked about her daughter and her excitement to have Mijo officially join the family. Next was Mijo’s mom and dad. They couldn’t stop saying how proud of him they were.

Ty and Austin’s speeches were short and sweet. They just wished him luck and playfully clowned Mel. “Boy you done did it now.” Chris started as soon as they handed the mic to him, making some people chuckled. “Me and Mijo have known each other since we was kids. I mean when we was wearing T-Shirts and jeans three times our size.” He chuckled. “And even around them days when we was dating them little girls- cause you know we had them bruh..” He and Mijo took the time to fist bump and laugh a bit.

“Even through all that, he never mentioned marriage. Ever. Not even when we graduated high school. Never. But, after meeting Mel, he couldn’t shut up about her and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we all would be here witnessing this. Y’all are a perfect fit, since y’all both crazy alike.” He added.

“Nah, but seriously. Mijo was blessed to find a woman like Mel. And Mel was blessed to find a man like Mijo. Y’all really bring out the best in each other and I couldn’t want more for either of you. Y’all have a beautiful family and I wish y’all many more years of happiness together. I love y’all. Congratulations.” He embraced Mijo in a hug. And Mel made sure to hug and kiss him too.

Ashley, Kaya, and I kind of did our speeches together and we couldn’t keep it together for one second. Even Kaya’s mean ass was boo-hooing up there with us. We touched on the fact that we had all met at school and just bonded over little things. Almost ten years later, here we were. Despite having some off moments, we wouldn’t trade each other for anything. We made sure to congratulate them and Kaya added a “It’s lit” making everybody laugh.

The rest of the night was dedicated to taking pictures and dancing. All the kids were having the time of their lives, dancing to ‘Rolex’ by Ayo & Teo. Chris’ ass just wanted to show off when he joined the mix. He was so extra. The DJ switched the song to something more soft and everyone made sure to grab someone to dance to.

I watched as my parents swayed to Jesse Powell’s voice. To see my daddy so in love was refreshing. I would forever miss my mom, but Tasha filled that void for me. I watched my newly married friends cuddled close as they glided over the ball room floor. I watched as they spoke in each other’s ear and laughed soon after, they were so happy it was contagious.

Kaya and Darius were by the bar, cuddled up. She shared that things had been pretty rocky for them lately. Every couple had rough patches, so I was hoping they would get through it. I loved them together. Austin and Ashley... they just didn’t care at this point. They were so hot for each other, I was almost positive there was something inappropriate happening at the table in the farthest corner they were sitting at. Just ridiculous.

“Mommy! Come dance with me and daddy!” I heard Christian’s voice from the crowd. I eyed the crowd before I saw his tiny self running towards the table. “Come dance with us.” He took my hand and led me to his daddy. “Pretty lady, can we have this dance?” Chris asked. He picked Christian up and they both reached for my hand.

I obliged and soon enough we were all swaying to the music. I laughed seeing my favorite two boys staring back at me with grins. I was so blessed. The DJ soon switched the music and Christian asked to go dance with his cousins. Chris let him down and he ran off to the other side of the room. Chris took the opportunity to pull me closer.

“I love you.” I muttered. “I love you more, baby mama.” My heart swelled at the pet name. “Who would have known we’d be here?” “Right?” I giggled. “If it wasn’t for Mel, we really wouldn’t have got together.” I stopped and thought for a minute. “Oh yeahhh! I forgot she was the one that gave you my number.” I laughed. “Yeah, that’s why she married now. Good karma.” He said making us share a laugh.

He planted a kiss on my forehead. “I love you Madison. I can’t wait until you have my last name.”

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randoreviews · 7 years

Text

AT THE J.CREW

If you’re a guy going to a wedding you have to wear pants, only an asshole would wear shorts. I’ve yet to see that, I’m still waiting. (I’ve seen kilts but that doesn’t count, that’s a whole other thing.) To be honest I kept popping the button on my old khakis. Lower body workouts, man, they actually work. The kids call it gains. In other writings I’ve documented how I’ve actually ripped the ass in a pair of khakis, getting into a cab on my way to a wedding. (The bride thought it was in vogue at the time since I was coming from L.A... bless her heart.) The seat in these newer pants must have been sturdier but there was definitely a Mick Jagger/Sticky Fingers thing going on with the whole crotch area and I was like, Is this how women feel all the time? Constrained and always thinking they’re fat because their pants are so tight, even though it makes your (insert word here for ass) look good? But women don’t have penises, that’s the thing. That part, or lack thereof, definitely makes it easier for them. Still, don’t you just always want to go home and put sweats on? That’s why yoga pants are so great -- they’re really comfortable AND they show off the goods. But there’s no way in hell I’m wearing spandex. No fucking way, man. My dad used to, no lie, he used to pick me up at C.C.D. wearing them. Jesus must have been shaking his head. Did my mom like them? I don’t get it, and I don’t want to think about that. Point is, after she had sewn the button back on a couple times, and with an absolutely stacked docket of weddings for me this summer (God love ya and may He help you), my mom said, Ben, why don’t you get some new pants? So to the J.Crew I went, to Legacy Place. (What does the J stand for? Jurisprudence? If Jeff can be spelled with a G, then can George be spelled with a J? Is it Jeorge Crew?) True to its name, Legacy Place is a very historical place, about ten years old now, where you can struggle to find parking and go to the Apple Store and Anthropologie and Lululemon and Whole Foods... and Paper Source... and J.P. Licks... and Orvis... and a restaurant called Aquitane, which no offense to any of the people that work there but that’s probably the worst name for a restaurant I’ve ever heard. All very historical places like this, with a long Legacy going back generations. There’s even a SoulCycle. I had a whole exciting plan -- go get some new pants, and then go to the Whole Foods to get snacks and chocolate milk and a cleansing but also delicious juice and stuff. I am a consumer like you, I want to be immersed in Legacy Place and all that it has to offer, and be steeped in its traditions. Perhaps even go to Paper Source and see if there was any wrapping paper that really dazzled me. Here’s a parking tip if you ever journey to Legacy Place, like one of Chaucer’s pilgrims on their way to Canterbury -- park in the Whole Foods parking lot, the OUTSIDE parking lot. There are almost always spaces, unlike the central lot with all the surrounding stores, which is basically like a deathtrap you’ll never get out of. You’re basically entering the kill zone if you’re in that central lot, a weary coyote tempted by some meat close to a fire, unknowingly surrounded by spears. So many white people everywhere, it’s truly frightening, all entitled to the spots. I parked in the outside lot and was like FUCK YOU GUYS. Felt very pleased with myself. Going to get some new pants. Not wearing male spandex. Balls and that whole area excited to get some pants that would fit them. Just wanting some relief, as always. Not excited like that, just excited. In casinos, you know, they pump serotonin or something through the vents (or maybe it’s Melatonin?... just a bunch of Advil near the vent for the sweet candy coating?), and I SWEAR they do this at J.Crew too. Or maybe it’s just perfumes and colognes for teenagers and that starchy new clothes smell. Either way there’s a crazy stimulation that you could buy all these things and become a new person (fitter, happier, better) and be like those teenage models casually standing in a hay field next to a vintage truck. What girl doesn’t want to be that skinny model being propped up on a surfboard, held up by a group of buffed out guys? Ladies, as SOON as you buy those short jean shorts with the little frills on the end, RIGHT when you leave the store with that crisp bag swaying by your side, there’s gonna be those SAME guys just waiting outside for you ready to hold you up on a surfboard, or for a gang bang, I don’t know. If you wanted to. They all have abs to die for so it wouldn’t be like it would be a BAD gang bang. Unless you somehow resisted the magnetic pull of their abs and dimples at that moment and just wanted to get all their numbers and then you could text and date all of them and keep all of them hanging and be chased after and competed over by all these dreamy male muffin men. (Not even sure what that means.) And what girl doesn’t want that? Women think about sex as much as men do, I’m convinced. I’m onto you, women. See if you don’t keep thinking about this J.Crew gang bang scenario, late at night under the covers, or in the morning when you wake up, under the covers, or in the car when you’re driving to work. Me, I stopped looking for the girl on the surfboard. Women always want the J.Crew gang bang scenario, in some form or another. Or they just want to be with assholes, that’s probably the more correct answer. Or I’m a total loser, a writer, worse than a homeless person, and all the women are with great guys who are way better than me. It’s a tough old walnut to crack, that’s for sure. J.Crew has also perfectly figured out how to make clothes that will last about two years and then fall apart so you have to go back to the J.Crew, back to Legacy Place, and do it all over again, maybe buying an additional pair of sandals this next time around. A cute pair of sandals, YAAAAY! Fucking shoot me. (I bought a pair of socks with little surfer guys on them and ten times out of ten I would do it again.) No one helped me, I just drifted, in amongst the yellow, blue, red, green, plaid shorts, the socks arrayed in a circle of design on top of design, another line of shorts with stretchy drawstrings for the men who really wanted to be comfortable. I have serious commitment issues, even when it comes to clothes, I’ve written about it before. (See scintillating essay entitled, “New Clothes.”) So I walked around the men’s section in circles, many times, tentatively looking at something, tilting it out from its hanging position, and then saying no, no, no. That flannel shirt could break my heart. And then I would think about it every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I did this with the khakis, almost intentionally avoiding the khaki section for some stretches, even though I had expressly gone there to buy khakis, and for the love of everything sacred and with Legacy I was going to lest I ripped the ass in another pair of pants on my way to another wedding. I would circle far away from the khaki section knowing deep down that I would have to eventually circle back. Maybe I wouldn’t buy pants today. Maybe I would just wear my old ones. I liked old things. I liked things with Legacy. The woman on top of the surfboard was looking down at me smiling like, Here, come join the group so I can make you compete with all these other guys and fuck you over! I finally settled on some pants to take to the dressing room, it was like Indiana Jones doing the Leap of Faith when he can’t see that there’s a bridge and he closes his eyes and takes the first step out. I had to go up to the saleswoman, they were all a-twitter with something and paying me no mind, which is how I liked it anyway. No offense to this saleswoman I’m going to write about, I’m sure she’s a lovely woman with as vast an interior life as anyone, but as soon as she opened her mouth she seemed like the type of woman who may have strictly limited herself to saying the sentence, “Oh my god, do you love iiiit?” Try khakis on, yes. That’s all that was going on in my mind. Make this as quick and painless as possible. Try to speak clearly but not too loudly. I wonder if this woman goes home every night, puts her feet up with some tea, leans her head back and thinks, “God, I fucking hate people.” Do you love iiiit? Fucking hate them. We all have a song and dance, a Mick Jagger performance. Jumping ahead but she said to one of her coworkers when my credit card was doing its magic, “Oh my god, I totally was thinking of wearing that same dress today,” but with no spaces in between the words, and in my mind it immediately processed to, “Bitch, if we had worn the same thing I would have cut you.” How bad would that have been though if they were both standing behind the registers wearing the same floral jumper-type thing? It would be like 1984 but made manifest by all those people who send you requests to join Candy Crush so they can get more points. I got the damn pants, $150, because there’s the higher-end J.Crew stuff that could last five to ten years instead of two. (Probably exactly five and then they self-destruct.) And they were nice and well-made and buttery almost, and the whole private areas of my body could breathe, although it did not feel as sexy. That’s the trade-off, you want sexy you have to have things almost painted on and wedged into and cutting into your body. Sexy clothes aren’t breathable unless we’re talking about cleavage and g-strings and those are uncomfortable in their own ways. But they make you feel sexy, which feels great, if you want to feel that way. It’s a real power. Some good cleavage can bring the world to it knees. Some nice bum can hypnotize and make people mortgage their houses and do all types of questionable things, feeling that lust and need that’s waaaay down in you. It’s basically so the human race will continue and you can have kids and then they can shop at J.Crew. All in all I left with some socks with little surfers on them and I got some chocolate milk at the Whole Foods (opted to not go to Paper Source) and let my Great Wall down to let some new khakis into my life that my ass could fit modestly into, tried not to look at the Aquitane sign, so all in all it was a successful trip. Oh my god, I love it, so cute, YAAAAAAY.

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fluffyllamas-23 · 7 years

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Yes, hello, hi, it’s @taylor-tut‘s birthday, and she deserves all of the happiness and celebration in the world.

Paisley feels like she’s on the verge of a mental breakdown. School and work have been hectic, leaving her with little to no time to sleep, and she’s exhausted. To top it all off, Logan, who keeps her sane, is away for a week and a half on a family camping trip. He had asked if she wanted to come, but as much as it sucked to say no, she couldn’t afford to spend that much time without service. So, she and Ashton decided to use this time to finally hang out, because it’s been way too long since they’d actually spent time together.

The week had come and gone, and before Paisley knows it, it’s eight PM on a Friday night, and she’s ready to forget all of her responsibilities and just relax. Lord knows she needs it.

She walks through their apartment, and Ashton, who’s been waiting for this moment for the last twenty minutes, launches herself onto Paisley’s back.

“Yo, Logan is great and all…but I’ve missed you, and that butthead has been stealing you from me,” Ashton says, wrapping her arms around Paisley’s neck.

“Ashton, you fat ass, get off,” Paisley grunts, staggering under Ashton’s weight.

“I am not fat, you jerk. Anyways,” she says, climbing off of Paisley, “did you read the email she sent us.”

“Who’s ‘she'?” Paisley asks, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“Um…the um…the landlady,” Ashton says, gesturing wildly.

Paisley raises a brow, “dude, we’ve lived here how long, and you still refer to Jackie as ‘the landlady’?”

“…In my defense you know I’m bad with names. Whatever, did you read the email she sent us?”

“No…haven’t had time. What’d it say?”

“There’s gonna be construction for the next few days and they might have to cut the power.”

“Great,” Paisley groans.

“Yeah…it sucks…okay, off topic, but can we please have a girls’ night? I bought wine.”

Paisley grins, “um, yes.”

Ashton’s face lights up, “I have face masks too! Oh! Oh! Oh! WE NEED TO GO TO THE STORE!”

Paisley’s eyes widen, “WHAT, WHY? AND WHY ARE WE YELLING?”

“Because we need to go raid Target.”

“Um,” Paisley blinks, stifling a yawn, “not sure why that required yelling, but alright. What do we need at Target?”

Ashton grins, “junk food. ALL of it.”

“Yes. Perfect, who’s driving?”

“I will, you look dead on your feet, dude.”

“I’m just a little tired.”

Ashton narrows her eyes, “when’s the last time you’ve even slept?”

“Um…it’s been a day…or two…I can’t remember.”

“Paisley.”

“What? I had papers to write.”

Ashton rolls her eyes, “let’s just go, you ready?”

Paisley and Ashton are cuddled up to each other, shivering beneath a pile of blankets. The power had gone out an hour and a half ago, and taken the heat with it, so they were watching Netflix on Paisley’s laptop. Open bags of chips and candy are scattered on the coffee table and floor, their half-empty glasses of wine have been abandoned in favor of staying completely covered by the blanket.

“We shoulda bought a space heater or s-something,” Ashton shivers.

Paisley scrunches her nose, sniffling slightly before she ducks her head into the blankets, “Ihn’gstch! N’gstch! *snff* Mmm…yeah, I agree…s’cold.”

“Bless you…you okay? You’ve been sniffling all night.”

Paisley nods and nuzzles her face into the blanket with a sniffle, “it’s just cold…s’messing with my sinuses.”

“You mean you're sick.”

“Um, no. That’s not what I meant.”

Ashton rolls her eyes, Paisley has been sounding like she was coming down with something for a few days now, and she’s sure that this is just going to kickstart whatever it is.

“Dude, you’re sick.”

“No…s’just cold,” Paisley murmurs sleepily, drooping over until she’s curled up on the couch and completely covered by the blankets.

“Alright…well, you should go to…” Ashton pulls the blankets down past Paisley’s face and she chuckles lightly when she sees that Paisley’s already fast asleep. “Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would,” Ashton whispers, patting Paisley’s shoulder fondly before turning her attention back to the screen.

The sound of a jackhammer yanks Ashton from her sleep, it’s still dark out, but she has no idea what time it is. She looks down, expecting Paisley to be up and awake, because she’s the lightest sleeper on the planet.

Except, Paisley is still fast asleep in the same position she fell asleep in, and Ashton feels a spike of panic when she realizes that Paisley is probably dead. That’s really the only reason why the construction work hadn’t woken her up yet.

Or…

Ashton hesitantly feels Paisley’s cheek, and then inhales sharply at rolling heat that meets the back of her fingers.

“Dude, dude, dude, dude,” Ashton says, shaking Paisley, “wake up.”

After a few moments, Paisley groans weakly and attempts to bat Ashton’s hand away.

“Go ‘way…mb’sleepind’.”

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks, sitting up.

Paisley shivers, and grimaces at the sharp pounding in her head, “umb…c-cand I have s-sombe Advil?”

“You’re sick.”

“I’mb just t…heh…hih’ngxcht! Nngsh! *snff* ohhh…mby heeeeead,” she moans, coughing lightly.

“That’s the fever,” Ashton says, eyebrows knitting together, “you sound awful.”

“I have to study,” Paisley groans, her face crumpling as she stifles another trio of congested sneezes.

“You have a fever. You need to sleep.”

“I’mb sure it’s ndot that high.”

Ashton quirks a brow and holds a thermometer up, “I’m about to call your bluff.”

Paisley frowns, “where’d that combe fromb?”

“…I just went and grabbed it. You stared at me while I was getting it, too.”

“I…huh?”

“Damn, how high is it?” Ashton hisses, sticking the thermometer in her ear.

“Ash?”

“Yes?”

“I dond’t feel well…I wandt Logand…he mbakes everythindg better,” Paisley sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I know,” Ashton sighs, and stares at the thermometer, “and I know that a one hundred and-whoa…I know a one hundred and three degree fever can’t feel good…but hey, you have me. I’ll get you better.”

“Everythindg hurts,” Paisley mumbles.

“How about some medicine?”

“How ‘bout and axe to the head?”

“Sorry, dude. No can do.”

Paisley hides her head under the pillow with a tired groan.

Paisley is sitting up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket as she blinks tiredly at Ash. She insists on studying, although Ash isn’t sure why.

“Are you sure about this? You should definitely be sleeping right now.”

She sniffles and rubs her eyes. She blinks once, “what?”

“Alright, how exactly do you plan on studying when you can hardly focus on our conversation?”

She grins lazily after a beat, “you’re goindg to help…will you? Umb…help me, I mbeand.”

“You already asked.”

“…I did?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh…sorry.”

Paisley watches Ashton through heavy lids as she struggles to stay awake.

“It’s okay…just…I’m going to get everything set up, and then I’ll make you some tea, and we’ll get started, yeah?”

“Okay…that sounds like a pland…but…uh…” black dots dance in her vision, and she squeezes her eyes shut with a weak shake of her head.

“Paisley?” Ashton frowns, pressing her hand to her friend’s forehead, “you okay?”

“Mb’finde…dizzy.”

Paisley sounds like she’s just barely hanging onto consciousness, her words are slurring together and it sounds like her tongue is sticking to the rood of her mouth.

“Alright, it’s bed time.”

Paisley blinks heavily, her expression slowly changing into one of rage. Except, the rage is muted by her glassy, fever bright eyes and bright red flush across her cheeks.

“You said you’d help mbe study.”

“Yeah, and that was before you looked like you were about to pass the hell out. Come on, you need to sleep. You can study when you’re feeling better.”

“I-“

“-I swear to God that if you don’t lie down and sleep, I will tie you to your fucking bed.”

Paisley sighs and drops down on her side, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders, “I’mb just gonnda ndap…wake mbe up ind like…twendty mbindutes.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, not wanting to argue with her.

She has no plans on waking Paisley up though, and instead she tucks her in and pats her burning cheek gently before getting up and walking into the kitchen.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAY #I apologize for this shitty fic lol but I hope you liked it #i also hope you have a great day <3 #platonic lady friendship whump #OCs #also shoutout to collegeanon-sickfics for her prompt list

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