#yes that is a bomb he has inside the lining of his jacket. because the mafia wants him to blow up the prosecution's witness. obviously. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missymurphy1985 · 3 years

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Negotiations - Jackson Rippner one shot

Warning - smut / public sex / dubious consent (at first, anyway...) / Unprotected sex

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen

You were frantic - scribbling 18F has Bomb onto the bathroom mirror in a complete panic before taking a deep breath to calm yourself. Opening the door, you nearly screamed as Jackson suddenly pushed you back inside, hand over your mouth, swinging you hard so your back was pressed against the sink. He clocked the writing on the mirror and quickly locked the door behind him.

His face inches away from yours now, holding your jaw in his strong hand, his eyes peering into yours. You were absolutely terrified, and yet part of you couldn't help but feel hot.. you'd felt an instant attraction when you'd met in the bar hours earlier, and even though Jackson turned out to be a psychopathic terrorist with your father tied up back home at gunpoint, just waiting for Jackson's signal...

"You don't have to do this..." You whispered, seeing a glimmer of desire in his eyes.

He didn't answer. Just glared at you, before his eyes dropped down slightly, catching sight of your cleavage and the small scar across it. His fingers pulled down the material of your thin camisole top to see it properly, and your body shifted against him, making him push up against you a little harder. Both of you groaned slightly at the extra contact.

"I have no choice but to do this.." he whispered back. You could feel an extra pressure against your leg suddenly and Jackson's eyes closed slightly as you pushed your body up against it.

"You always have a choice, Jackson.." he was clearly attracted to you, and your core was on fire as he pushed himself against your leg a little harder now, groaning deeper.

"How did you get the scar.." you told him the story of the scar.. how you'd been attacked in a car park, the men taking advantage of you... His breathing became slightly laboured, as with every word your voice got unintentionally deeper. You tried to pull away from him but the limited space in the bathroom made it impossible.

"Why are you doing this, Jackson?" You asked, voice shaky.

"Because I have a job to do."

"I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about this..." You looked down, his hardness obvious now between you.

"Because I want you."

"You're fucking delusional..."

"Not really. I can feel how hot you are from here sweetheart.." his right hand remained on your jaw, while his left moved down to your hips, squeezing the flesh slightly making you jump.

"Don't do this... Please...?" You wasn't sure how much you meant that, admittedly..

"See now, I would believe you but the way you're grinding against me y/n.. I'm thinking you want this as much as I do..." You hadn't even realised you were moving, but sure enough, your core was flush against his. You froze, not wanting to provoke him any more but he ground his hips against yours making you shudder - the zipper on his trousers brushing over your clit perfectly.

"Jackson please..."

"Please what, sweetheart? What is it you need?"

"Release my father."

"What?"

"Release my father and you can take whatever you want from me. Do we have a deal?" You could see the cogs turning in his mind.

"I get to fuck you senseless in this bathroom, as long as I let your father go?"

"Yes..." You moved your clit over his zipper again, you were desperate for the friction.

"And if I don't?"

"It's going to be a really uncomfortable flight with this between your legs..." Your hips rocking against him now, and his eyes fluttered closed again at the contact. You could see the decision had clearly been made, and he wasted no time in lifting your skirt up over your hips, pulling your underwear down your legs.

Moving his body back up against hours, your fingers were soon working on his belt buckle and trousers, dropping them to the floor and biting your lip as his cock sprung free, already leaking a little. You wanted to take him in your mouth but you knew you both had limited time. His fingers were soon between your legs, sliding over your slick folds, smiling at how wet you were already.

"Turn around y/n..." He moved back, allowing you to face the mirror, and you bent over slightly, letting him open your legs a little before lining himself up against you.

"You on anything?" He asked before he pushed inside.

"No..."

"Better remember to pull out then hadn't I..." He smirked before thrusting into you with a deep groan, his hand covering your mouth quickly to stop you screaming from the sudden invasion. He built up a hard, fast pace quickly, and your body soon adjusted to him, your core throbbing and pulsing against his cock. You couldn't speak due to his hand covering your mouth, all you could do was groan quietly.

"Keep your eyes on me y/n..." He pulled your hair with his free hand as he pounded into you, lifting your face so you could see him in the mirror. "I wanna see your eyes when you come..."

That surprised you, you'd have thought all he was interested in was getting his own end away, but the way he angled himself inside you, it was obvious he was looking for that one sweet spot inside - he needed you to come. He found it, and smirked when your eyes widened suddenly, keeping up the pace as he fucked you hard, hitting it over and over again, making your legs shake underneath him.

"If I move my hand, will you stay quiet?" He whispered, and you shook your head, his hand over your mouth was turning you on even more, you didn't want him to remove it. He raised an eyebrow at you, and continued pounding, his left hand moving down to squeeze your ass under him. He wanted to slap it, but the noise would've been too much of a risk.

Your legs shook harder, that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach, you were so close. You moved your mouth slightly, allowing him to push two fingers inside it as you sucked and licked them, making him gasp. Looking at him through the mirror you could tell he was close too, his lips hanging open slightly, teeth gritted underneath them.

"Need to feel you come y/n..." And you did, your orgasm flowing through you like a hurricane as your mouth sucked harder on his fingers to stop yourself crying out.

With a deep, quiet groan he reached his high, thrusting deep inside and you felt his hot, thick cum line your walls.

"Fuck, Jackson I told you I wasn't on anything..." You gasped, realising what he'd done.

"What can I say, you felt too good..." He smirked, pulling out of you and pulling your pants up from around your ankles, holding your leaking juices in place. "You're gonna keep them there for the rest of this flight, and if you're lucky I might make you come in your seat before we land..." he pulled his trousers back up and kissed your lips hungrily.

"What happens when we land?" You asked as he pulled away, cleaning the writing from the mirror.

"Your father's release will be arranged when we sit down, I always keep my promises. The assassination goes ahead as planned, and you will help us with that. As agreed."

"And if I don't?"

"You can forget any more orgasms on this plane."

"I'm gonna need more than that, Jackson."

"On this plane, at the hotel, in your bedroom, you'll never get a piece of this again..." He held your hand against his crotch, you couldn't resist giving it a small squeeze.

"You release my father and I'll help you."

"You help with the assassination and you get to cum on my fingers when we get back to the seats."

"Deal..." You both tidied yourselves up and left the bathroom separately. You saw Jackson on the phone to your father's kidnapper, telling him to let your father go. He even showed you the call and let you speak to your Dad, confirming the whole thing. You sat back in your chair, and smiled. Jackson's hand resting at the top of your damp thigh under your skirt, his jacket placed over your lap as he leaned over to whisper in your ear.

"Ready for orgasm number 2 now y/n?"

#jackson rippner #jackson rippner x smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian x smut

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imjustwritingg · 3 years

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your love lifts me up (when i’m down, down, down)

Hi friends! That season finale was absolutely insane and I am still not over it, but here’s a continuation of it because Hailey deserves better and because I love Upstead and hate Hank Voight. The title is from the song "Helium" by SIA. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Read on AO3 and FFNet!

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your love lifts me up like helium

your love lifts me up when I'm down, down, down

when I've hit the ground

you’re all I need

‘cause your love lifts me up like helium

“I’m serious. Let’s get married.”

His immediate thought is complete and utter happiness as the words tumble from her lips and a smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, his eyes staring into hers with such love and affection.

His second thought is concern. Because as much as he may want to spend the rest of his life with the woman standing in front of him, she stands there with teary eyes and a familiar look on her face that reminds him of not too long ago that had him reassuring her he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What happened Hailey?” He finds himself asking.

“What do you mean?”

“You came in here seeming not like yourself and you just said we should get married. Not that I’m opposed to that with you, but it’s a little out of left field for you. You seem scared about something and it’s kinda freaking me out a little so just tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on. I just - I just want you. I - I don’t wanna wait.”

He takes a fraction of a step toward her, squeezing her arms gently and looking at her with the same soft expression he always has for her. “Hailey, I would marry you tomorrow, right now, if that’s what I thought you really wanted, but there’s something that you’re not telling me. I can see it in your eyes. It’s all over your face. And normally I’d let it go and give you your space to figure out whatever it is that you need to figure out, but I’m really worried here so just tell me.”

She shakes her head, somehow able to hold back the tears she has in her eyes as she stares back at him. If she were being honest, she wasn’t expecting him to say yes, that they’d suddenly be engaged or running off to City Hall the next morning for some shotgun courtroom ceremony.

The way he looks at her tells her as much, that he won’t let it go, and she can’t blame him considering the bomb she just dropped on him, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been so deep inside her thoughts and reeling from the events of the day and the night. The thought of losing him snuck into her head far too quickly and sent her into a panic and she just blurted it out.

Maybe she should have thought this through a bit more before proposing to him on a whim in the middle of her living room. She’d surprised even herself as the words fell from her lips. The idea of marriage should terrify her given the fact that the only example of it she has is her parents. But the idea of marrying him, her partner, her best friend - it sends an undeniably wonderful ache through her, like she needs it. She needs him. She’s never needed anyone in her entire life. Not her parents or friends or ex-boyfriends and past lovers. But she needs him.

“I don’t know why I said it,” she breathes out then. “I just, I saw you standing there and I thought about Kim and everything that’s happened and I - I don’t know.“

“I think that’s only part of it,” he says quietly, carefully. “Tell me why else.”

She knows exactly why else. What else. Who else. And it sends another ache rushing through her, but this one goes straight to her stomach and she swallows back the feeling of needing to gag that rises at the back of her throat.

“Can we go see Kim first?” She asks suddenly.

“Hailey - “

“Please? Let’s go to the hospital and see how she’s doing, and then we can come back here and we’ll talk. I promise.”

She says it in one breath, hurried and eyes pleading. She just needs more time. Time with him before she tells him everything that happened. Before she loses the one thing that means everything to her.

“Okay,” he sighs before jutting his chin to the bathroom behind her. “You wanna take a shower and change first or just head over?”

Hailey nods, taking a step back. “Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be quick.”

She pulls herself away from him and heads into her bedroom, his eyes following her with more worry than before as she closes the door behind her.

She takes a deep breath as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, trying to calm her too fast beating heart until her eyes land on a basket of laundry on the floor by the dresser. Her clothes, his clothes, mixed together. And then her eyes scour the rest of the room. A pair of his boots sitting on the floor beneath the window. One of his watches and a phone charger on the nightstand at the side of the bed. His side of the bed.

She shakes her head at the sight of all these things, his things, and pulls off her jacket. She tosses it to the bed before making her way into the bathroom and closes the door that leads out to the living room.

When she turns back around it’s only a few seconds before her heart seizes again as she glances to the sink. His toothbrush in the holder beside hers. A bottle of his cologne on the other side of the faucet, one of her favorite smells that is so distinctly him. She turns her head to the shower stall at the bottles of products that don’t belong to her.

He’s made himself at home in her space, engraved his presence in the place she had once kept so private and guarded. A space that had quickly become theirs.

She feels the tears burning in the corners of her eyes again and her bottom lip begins to tremble as she realizes this may be it. This may be the last time she sees their lives so intimately twined together and it breaks something inside of her. Cracks her open so quickly and makes the pool of tears spill over and fall down her face.

She wipes under her eyes with one hand and covers her mouth with the other, muffling the painful sob that falls out as she becomes overwhelmed with frustration and despair over the fact that she knows she won’t come back from this. Losing Jay. Losing them. She is sure he’s going to hate her. He’s going to become so disgusted with her, he’s going to leave when she tells him and she knows she can’t not tell him.

The only thing she can do is bask in denial and hold off the heartache that she’s sure will come for a few more hours. She can pretend that everything is fine, that she hasn’t crossed a line she can’t come back from despite being pulled across it involuntarily by her Sergeant. They can still be them for just a little while longer.

She turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom, wiping under her eyes again and grabbing her jacket from the bed before pulling open the door of her bedroom. Jay looks up at her from the couch, his phone in hand, and raises an eyebrow at her and the clothes she hasn’t changed out of yet.

“Let’s just go to the hospital now,” Hailey says, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her jacket again.

“You sure?”

She nods and forces a smile, stepping toward him and reaching a hand down to him.

“Okay,” Jay says with a shrug, taking her offered hand into his and standing from the couch.

They leave her apartment and make their way out to his truck, it not being lost on him the way her hand trembles in his or how she doesn’t let go until they separate to get into the cab. When they buckle themselves in, she reaches for his hand again over the console between them.

He wants to believe it’s just because of the events of the last few days. The case and Kim and the very real possibility that tonight could have gone a lot differently if he and Kevin hadn’t found their friend and colleague when they did.

He’s not that naive though. He knows something else happened. Something big enough to scare her into bringing up marriage even though he’s definitely not against it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had the thought of spending the rest of his life with her. He thinks about it often, but he knows there is something she’s keeping from him that she can’t find the words for right now so he won’t push her.

She said they’d talk later and he knows she needs more time to wrap her head around whatever it is that’s going on. He just holds onto her hand tightly and drives, glancing over at her every few minutes to see her staring out the window and lost in her own head.

When they get to Med and he throws the truck into park, she lets go of his hand only long enough for them to get out of the cab and for her to meet him at the hood. Her fingers twine with his once again and she holds on tightly to him.

Jay has passed the point of concern now as they enter the hospital through sliding glass doors, but Hailey still doesn’t let go of him, only holding on tighter as they walk down the corridors of the hospital. They ride the elevator in silence, huddled into a corner as it fills with staff and visitors, and Hailey lifts her other hand to place it on his arm just below his elbow. He can’t help leaning down and kissing the top of her head, pressing his lips to her hairline in a silent reminder of assurance to let her know he’s still with her.

They step off the elevator when the doors slide open a few moments later, hands still intertwined between them and Hailey’s hand holding his arm as they walk down the hallway together. When the pair rounds a corner they spot Kevin leaning against a nurse’s station, one hand tucked into the front of his vest and the other holding his phone up to his ear.

“How is she?” Hailey asks quietly as her and Jay approach him.

Kevin looks between them, his eyes glancing between their joined hands and their faces, and a soft knowing smile peeks out over his own. Because despite the horrors and the unknowns that surround them, at least there is some bit of happiness to hold onto.

“Hold up a sec bro,” Kevin says into the phone, holding it over his shoulder and then looking between the couple again. “She’s still in surgery, but they said she’s fighting, still holding on.”

“She’s been through a lot, but she’ll pull through this too. I know it,” Jay says and Hailey nods at his side in silent agreement.

“Y’all staying for a bit?” Kevin asks them.

“Yeah,” Hailey tells him. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Kevin nods and gestures to his phone. “I’m gonna head to Kim’s place. Take over for Ruze and watch Makayla so he can come down.”

“Sounds good man,” Jay says, lifting his free hand and clapping Kevin on the shoulder.

The officer gives Jay and Hailey one last look before he steps away, walking down the hall and lifting his phone back to his ear. They hear his quiet words of “I’m on my way to you” as he rounds the corner and then he’s gone.

Jay glances over at Hailey, her hold on him unwavering and the worry inside him growing heavier by the second, but he won’t bring it up here. He leads her to a small alcove of chairs and takes a seat, Hailey sitting down beside him, and he brings their joined hands to his lap and places his free hand over top of them. She leans her head against his shoulder, breathing out a quiet sigh that is quickly followed by a dragged out yawn.

He glances at her face to see her blinking slowly, fighting off exhaustion and whatever else is going through her head that he doesn’t yet know about, an unmistakable look of sadness etched across her face. He could tell she was crying when she came out of her bedroom earlier and all he wants is to ask her what is going on, but he knows he can’t do that in some hospital waiting room. They’re here for Kim. Anything and everything else can wait.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head again, hovering over her hair as he pulls back slowly, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispers back from beside him, squeezing his hand and his arm and not letting go.

Time moves slowly from there and Adam arrives almost forty minutes later, tears in his eyes and a disheveled mess of hair. He spots them quickly through the glass window of the alcove and walks toward them.

“Hey, any news?” He asks in a rush.

Jay shakes his head. “Before Kev left he said she was still in surgery, but we haven’t heard anything else yet.”

Adam nods slowly, pacing in a circle a few times before he finally takes a seat in the empty chair next to Hailey. He glances over at the half asleep blonde, smiling softly at the way she’s curled against her partner and clutching him with her hands.

“Is this a new development or - ?” Adam asks quietly, looking to Jay and nodding down to Hailey.

Jay smiles softly as he shakes his head and it makes Adam smile wider despite his own despair. “Well good for you guys then. It’s about damn time, man.”

“Yeah,” Jay mumbles softly, squeezing Hailey’s hand when she squeezes his fingers in her sleepy state.

Another twenty minutes pass in silence between the three until a nurse enters the alcove, a friendly look on her face.

“Are you here for the officer that was brought in? Kim Burgess?”

The two men nod and Hailey comes out of her sleepy haze at the sound of their friend’s name, looking up as the nurse smiles softly at them.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s stable right now, but still in critical condition. They’re transporting her to the ICU. Me or another nurse will come find you when you can see her.”

The nurse is gone as quickly as she appeared and they all breathe out a sigh of relief, Adam leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head lowering in front of him. They can tell by the way his shoulders heave that he’s crying as he holds his hands over his face, sniffling quietly beside them.

Hailey pulls her hand from Jay’s arm and places it on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing gently and then the dam breaks. All the worry and the anger and the not knowing where Kim was or if she was even still alive leaving the officer’s body through every sob that rips through him.

“Sounds like she’s gonna be okay,” Hailey whispers, giving his shoulder another squeeze and running her hand across his back.

He lets it all out in the safe space between him and his friends, and then lifts his head, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to wipe at his face. He stands a moment later, wiping at his face again and sniffling back his tears, and turns to face Hailey and Jay.

“Thank you,” Adam says quietly through teary eyes as he looks at Jay. “For finding her, for getting her here as fast as you did, for all of it.”

Jay nods and then Adam looks at Hailey. “And thank you for making me go home. For pulling me back from the ledge. You were right.”

Hailey smiles softly at him, nodding slowly and knowingly, as Adam breathes out another deep sigh of relief.

“I’m gonna call the others, Kev and Trudy and Voight. Let them know,” Adam tells them and Jay doesn’t miss the way Hailey flinches beside him at the mention of their Sergeant’s name.

He glances at her for a moment, but she doesn’t look at him, refusing to meet his eyes, so he looks back at Adam and gives a short nod. “You good man?”

“I will be. She’s out of surgery, still hanging on. That’s all that matters now,” Adam tells them. “It’s late. You guys go home and get some sleep. Kev’s with Makayla. I’m not leaving here anytime soon.”

“You sure man?” Jay asks, feeling Hailey stiffen beside him.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“When she wakes up, tell her we love her,” Hailey says quietly as her and Jay stand to their feet.

Adam assures them that he will with a small smile and a slow nod, and then they say their goodbyes. Hailey and Jay head out of the hospital, her hand never leaving his despite the way her body froze just moments ago and she holds onto him for near dear life in the same manner as when they first left her apartment.

When they arrive back at her place after another silent drive, Hailey kicks off her boots by the door and pulls off her jacket, tossing it over the back of the armchair as Jay does the same. She pulls her hair from its ponytail and tosses the hair tie on a side table, and when she turns to face him with tearful eyes he shakes his head at her.

Jay steps toward her slowly and looks directly at her, his eyes soft as always, but full of concern maybe more so than ever before. “What did he do Hailey?”

She lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. She knew she had given herself away in that damn alcove. Hearing Voight’s name had sent a chill through her as soon as she’d heard it and she just reacted. Out of instinct or fear or anger, she can’t be sure. She steps away from Jay and moves to the couch. She sits down and folds her legs up under her, resting her arms across her lap.

“He found Roy,” Hailey spills out through trembling lips. “He found him and he - “

She stops, shaking her head and keeping her eyes down at her hands as she picks at her nails, needing something else to focus on as she lays it all out.

Jay walks to the couch and sits down beside her, sitting sideways and facing her. He reaches an arm out toward her and rests a hand over her knee. “Hailey, what happened?”

“He gave me and Adam the locations for the knock and talks that were legit. He took the red flags. Adam had to take care of Makayla so I drove him to Kim’s apartment and went after Voight,” she speaks through a croaky voice as she looks up at him, having to force herself to do so despite the tears that pool in the corners of her eyes and blur her vision. “He - he was beating him. H-he had him cuffed. We had words and fought, I pushed him back. I convinced him to bring Roy in, that we found Kim and it was the right thing to do.”

Jay stares back at her, blood boiling and his heart pounding. He already knows how the story ends. The hand that doesn’t rest on Hailey’s knee shakes and he has to force himself not to ball it up in a fist out of anger for their Sergeant. He doesn’t wanna scare Hailey, so he squeezes her knee again gently instead.

“What happened after that?” He asks carefully.

“Voight went to uncuff him and Roy reached for his gun. He was gonna sh-shoot him and I just - it was a good shoot. It was a good shoot, but no one knew we were there. No one knew Voight was there. He went off book and didn’t call it in. He wouldn’t let me call it in.”

“Where’s Voight now?”

“I don’t know. He told me to leave. To go home and I just - I came here. I - I don’t - “ she’s shaking her head, tears falling from her eyes and her heart pounding in her chest, hands shaking.

“Hey, this isn’t on you,” Jay tells her immediately.

Hailey shakes her head again as she looks back at him. “I shot him. I killed him.”

“You did that because he was reaching for a gun. It’s completely justified.”

“But I was trying to be better! I was trying to be good!” She cries out. “Like you. I wanted to be better. I wanted to do it the right way.”

It’s him who shakes his head then, reaching for her shaking hands and holding them tightly between his, their knees touching as Hailey sniffles back more tears, but they just keep pouring out from her.

“You did it the right way, Hailey. You did all of it right.”

“I’m scared Jay,” she whispers, it’s so quiet he barely even hears her. “What if something happens? What if this comes back on me? I don’t wanna pull you into this. I don’t want you caught up in it. You’re too good.”

He’s shaking his head again as he tugs on her hands and pulls her toward him. He leans back and lies down on the couch, bringing her down on top of him and wraps his arms around her. One hand moves along her back and the other cradles her head against his chest. Her entire body shakes against his, sobs racking through her small frame as she cries out against him and grips his shirt tightly in her fists.

“I’m sorry,” she cries out, her words muffled against his chest as her tears soak through the fabric of his shirt, but he just tightens his hold on her and shushes her.

“It’s not your fault. We’ll figure it out. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” he promises with hushed words and soft touches. “You hear me? You’re not in this alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds her and reassures her until her sobs grow quiet and she hiccups through her tears as she lies on top of him, cradled between his legs and his arms. Their tight grips on one another don’t loosen as they lie on the couch, just holding onto each other.

As time passes and her cries die down, he can’t be sure if she’s just keeping quiet out of fear or panic, or if she’s cried herself to sleep. He runs a hand over the back of her head, his fingers weaving through her soft blonde hair. When he tilts his head to kiss her on the forehead, he notices her open eyes, red and puffy from the assault of tears and she blinks slowly as if she’s afraid to sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head again.

He pushes himself up with one arm into a sitting position as he keeps the other around Hailey and she clings to him, almost too scared to let him go.

“I promise you, I’m not leaving,” he tells her again, his tone gentle, but firm as he brings a hand to the side of her face to look her in the eyes.

The sight he’s met with as he looks at her crushes him. Her teary eyes, blotchy face and trembling lips. He feels tears of his own form in his eyes at the way she sits all, but in his lap, looking completely deflated, unsure, just broken down and nothing like herself.

“Come on,” Jay coaxes softly.

He stands from the couch and pulls Hailey up to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders. She still clings to him, her arms snaking around his waist as he leads them toward the bedroom and he switches off the lights of the living room along the way. He brings her to the bed and sits her down, the look of nothing on her face gutting him. She’s completely shut down now. He helps her undress, stripping her down to just a t-shirt and underwear, and then tucks her into her side of the bed.

He dresses down quickly to just his boxers before rounding to the other side and crawling in beside her. She reaches for him within seconds, attaching her body to his and holding on tightly and relentlessly and he just holds her, shushing her again and kissing her hair, praying for sleep to come to her quickly so she can finally rest.

It’s late as Jay lies in bed still awake, unable to settle his racing mind. Hailey sleeps beside him, breathing softly and snoring lightly from all of the crying and emotions of the last few hours, but even in her restful state she still doesn’t let go of him.

He can’t sleep. Can’t stop thinking about what she had told him, what their Sergeant had done, and it makes his heart beat faster and the anger boil hotter as he glances down at Hailey. She doesn’t deserve this.

He peels her hands from his body slowly and carefully so he doesn’t wake her, and slips out of the bed. He pulls on his jeans and grabs a t-shirt, and then walks out of the bedroom. He heads for the kitchen and grabs a notepad and pen from the island to scrawl out a quick note for Hailey. He knows the chances of her waking up are high and he knows the thoughts she’ll have if she wakes up in bed alone with him nowhere to be found.

He creeps back into the bedroom and places the note on his pillow, then checks to make sure Hailey is still asleep before he walks out to the living room. He pulls on his jacket and his boots, grabs his phone and keys, and then he sneaks out of the apartment.

It’s three in the morning, but he doesn’t care as he rings the doorbell and takes a step back. He stuffs his shaking hands into the pockets of his jacket and stays planted on his feet where he stands, afraid if he takes the tiniest step forward he might start swinging the second the door opens and that’s a mess that neither he nor Hailey can afford to handle right now.

When the door opens, his Sergeant doesn’t seem too surprised to see him standing on his front porch, even at the late hour.

“What are you doing here Jay?” Voight asks gruffly.

Jay stares back at him for a single moment and then says, “If this comes back on Hailey, in any way, I’ll bury you.”

His voice is completely calm, neutral, but there’s a layer of ice in his words that even he doesn’t think he’s ever used before with anyone let alone his boss.

Voight tenses his jaw, staring back at the man in front of him and very quietly, he says, “It won’t.”

Jay shakes his head, shuffling on his feet. “You don’t know that, Hank. You don’t know that! Look at what happened with Erin. With Al. When Ruzek got arrested. Everyone who gets close to you, who tries to help you, they take the fall. Not you. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen to Hailey. You’re not gonna drag her down with you.”

His voice comes out cold, uncharacteristically menacing, and the look on his Sergeant’s face tells him his words have stuck and they have hurt and he’s a little proud of himself for it.

Jay throws another glare at the older man in front of him, shakes his head in disgust at him, and then turns around and walks back to his truck.

By the time he gets back to Hailey’s apartment, his hands have finally stopped shaking and his heartbeat has slowed. He creeps inside and closes the door behind him as softly as he can before turning the lock and taking off his boots and his jacket. He pulls his t-shirt over his head as he moves to the bedroom and slides off his jeans before he slips back into his side of the bed again.

Hailey reaches for him immediately, snuggling into his side and he wraps his arms around her as she drops her head to his shoulder. She breathes deeply against him and he can tell she’s awake.

“You saw my note?”

She nods against him as she moves an arm across his stomach and squeezes his side. “Where’d you go?”

“I had to do something,” he says cryptically and she squeezes his side again. “He’s not gonna pull you down with him.”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him,” she says quietly, half-joking and worried.

“Not yet,” he tells her. “I just had some words for him.”

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head up at him and kisses his neck just under his jawline. He tightens his arms around her shoulder and her waist, and rests his chin over her head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Hailey. Whatever happens, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her again. Hoping his words will stick so she can fall back to sleep easily enough.

She reaches for his hand at her waist, weaves their fingers together and squeezes, then whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he tells her, dropping a kiss to her hair as she snuggles closer against him and lets out a deep breath against him.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” she admits a moment later amongst the silence. “I think that’s why I said what I said. The whole marriage thing.”

“You’re never gonna lose me, Hailey,” he says, breathing in and out against her hair. “That won’t ever happen.”

“I said it out of panic at first, but - but I do want it. I want that with you. I want everything with you,” she tells him and he squeezes her against him that much closer, smiling at her even though she can’t see it.

“I want everything with you too,” he says. “Except let me do the proposal okay? I’ll make it some big gesture with lots of planning and I’ll be a nervous wreck the entire time hoping you’ll say yes.”

She shakes her head against him. “I’d say yes over takeout on the couch. I’d say yes right now.”

“As tempting as that is at the moment, it’ll still be a surprise. And it’ll be a happy one. One you won’t see coming.”

She lifts her head and stares at him, smiling a tiny grin at him in the darkness of her bedroom despite her aching body and worried thoughts, through dried tears and a blotchy face, and then she leans up as he leans down. Their lips meet in the middle, pressing against one another softly, slowly, surely.

It’s an unspoken promise that is made in the safe space of her bedroom. Their bedroom. Their home. A promise of a future together filled with a proposal and a wedding and babies and everything in between. It’s a promise of a lifetime together.

#upstead #upstead fic #upstead fanfiction #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #hailey x jay #jay x hailey

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Bomb Squad Alternative

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: Here is another crossover between firefighter Y/N and Jay Halstead. Hope you enjoyed since I’m really proud lol. Personally I think this would be a great episode.

Requests for Jay are open again so send in your ideas! I’m thinking about putting out Christmas prompts since I’m feeling festive. Also, I’m quarantied :( went to test yesterday and I’m waiting for the results to kick in. I feel fine so I shouln’t worry but I still do yk? Anyhow, school is a b and I’m doing online atm (maybe high schools will switch to online completely until Christmas but who knows at this point).

It’s also exam weeks so that’s why I’ve been lacking time to get back to writing.

Now perpare for me to get on my knees for you at the end of this one shot. <3

“Everyone get out of the station!” You exclaimed, barging through the train station with the rest of 51. Your loud voices and heavy gear alerted everyone enough to get them to move back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A police officer questioned, throwing an accusing eyebrow your way.

Your lieutenant left you to the police officer’s mercy with a nod of his head. You sighed, turning to the man but still keeping a steady pace with the rest of your team. “There is a bomb threat, we need to evacuate the train station.”

“A bomb threat? I didn’t get a call,” He fought, looking around as if the bomb might be anywhere. Which was true.

“The intelligence is on their way, but I suggest you give us some room to do our job,” Matt joined his voice with you to explain. Although he quickly returned to shouting.

Soon enough, you saw two dark clothed figures march down the stairs towards you. Your boyfriend came striding down towards all of you, his blue eyes assassinating the surrounding situation.

Until they fell on you.

He looks good, you allowed yourself to think. Admiring his lean figure - the leather jacket covering his muscular arms and proud CPD badge at his hip - you watched as he stalked towards you. The old lady that was clutching to your side shakily suddenly became invisible to your eyes.

You weren’t surprised to see his jaw tick at the sight of you, which made you shake your head in annoyance. Helping the lady catch the arms of a fellow firefighter became your priority. You watched as she walked outside on unsteady legs.

“Y/LN, Casey.” Your chief grabbed your attention, “What’s the situation?”

“Still no sight of the bomb chief,” Matt said. “We’re trying to get out as many people as possible.”

“It’s rush hour Chief,” You breathed, glancing at Jay for a second before giving Wallace your full attention. “The next train will be here in 10 minutes. If this bomb has a timer then that’s exactly when it will go off. We need the bomb squad here now.”

“Understood. Voight?”

The sergeant looked at Jay who shook his head. “Stuck in traffic.”

You caught Matt muttering a violent curse under his breath, which only tempted you to do the same.

“Chief we need help!”

Severide’s shout brought you and Matt to your senses immediately. There was no time to think as you both ran towards him with your heavy gear on both your shoulders.

“Y/N stop!”

It was Jay who made you halt in your tracks to turn around. “What?”

He reached for your elbow, and with ease pulled you away. “Look I...”

You knew what was going on in his head. His protective nature over you often interferes with many things, including your job. But not today.

“I know you’re worried Jay, okay?” You reasoned, gloved hands grabbing his forearms in reassurance. “But this is my job. Trust me - I hate that we’re put in this situation but there’s nothing we can do except have each other's back.”

Jay let out a loose breath of fear before masking it under a facade of blankness. He waved his hand at the police officers, giving them a sign to follow him. “Be careful.”

You bobbed your head before planting a kiss to his cheek and running back to the scene.

The sight in front of you broke your heart.

A tiny boy with tears coloring his face sat at the bench with his foot dangling over the edge, connected to what looked like a time bomb. He was all alone - barely even 7 years old, with a bright yellow beanie covering his blonde curls. Rosy tear stained cheeks, and blue eyes filled with fear made you drop on your knees immediately.

Carefully, you approached him. The fear that brew inside was pushed aside and you plastered on a smile. “Hi buddy. My name’s Y/N. We’re here to help you”

You seized the ticking bomb and managed to decipher the numbers. Shaking your head, you ignored the buzzing of your anxious heart and grabbed your radio, dialing. “We have three minutes chief. No time to wait for the bomb squad. I have to do it.”

***

Jay looked at the police officers who surrounded him in an uneven half circle, and shook his head. He could see the men trembling, hands shaking and beads of sweat appearing at their foreheads.

“Alright listen up,” He boomed. “We need to evacuate immediately. Threaten with arrest, I don’t care. Just get the civilians out of here.”

They nodded in sync, each man letting out a different toned response before leaving him be to watch what was revealing a few yards away. Jay wouldn’t admit it, but he was shaking inside. His fingertips itched to grab your heavily clothed body and swing you over his shoulder in an attempt to keep you safe... No matter how chauvinistic that sounded.

But Jay Halstead had decided to date a strong woman. A dedicated feminist at that - a woman that refused to be manhandled unless it was to take her to bed when she desired.

Now he watched her - you - shout and shove around the train station, desperate to do what his job was too. Was he a bad man for not really caring if that man that just brushed his expensive suit against his shoulder came out of there safe? He only had eyes on you, so that’s why he spent moments watching you work around like a hawk.

And then you kneeled, and your colleagues stepped out of the way. Without his permission, his dark brows bunched together and his eyes narrowed at your stature. What are you doing?

His answer fell from the sky quickly - although not literally. Voight and Boden strode to his side to discuss the situation.

“There is no time to wait for the bomb squad,” Boden said roughly, his jaw clenching. “If that bomb isn’t deactivated within the next 3 minutes not only is that boy going to die...everyone on this block will.”

Voight knew what he meant by that. Thousands of casualties. Not only will Chicago lose millions of dollars worth of repair if the block blows up - as first responders what came to their minds were the civilians. How many of them will die or be injured because of a simple mistake of following protocol and waiting? They had a firefighter there, on the scene, ready to disable the bomb and save them.

Only that firefighter was you. And that made their decision ten times harder to make.

But Boden was sure in you, and so was Voight. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.”

Wallace nodded, griping his radio. “Y/N. Go for it.”

Y/N? Jay couldn’t believe his ears. It completely slipped his mind that you had been trained for this. At that moment, his body and mind said no. He forgot all about equality you have been trying to tattoo into his mind. You were you at that moment. A simple girl he fell in love with and wanted to protect.

“What the hell Sarge?!”

***

“Okay,” You sighed enthusiastically, hoping to divert the boy’s attention to your relaxed posture. “I need you to be really still for me. Can you do that?”

The boy could barely nod as Sylvie held his head still in the cervical collar.

“What’s your name?” Sylvie asked him, ignoring the fact that two minutes were left on the clock. You went straight to work the moment his attention was diverted and his leg was no longer shaking.

Swiftly, you grasped the leg of his pants and pulled it up, revealing the leather that was sunk in his flesh. You winced, “His leg circulation is bad.”

“Just focus on the bomb,” She reassured you quietly.

You grabbed the equipment and started to work on disabling it. Each step was more difficult than the other. You felt yourself tremble as the end seemed to never come any closer to you no matter how much you reached for it. “Go.”

“What? We’re not leaving you.“ It was Severide who spoke, only a meter or two away from you. Shaking your head at another trap within the system you decided that you needed all the help you could get.

1 minute.

“Jay?” You murmured against the radio - Jay’s reply was instant.

“Y/N you can do this,” his voice was raspier through the line, more prominent and harsh. Nevertheless, his words soothed you.

“I need help,” you told him. “You said this man is crazy right? Well I think there’s a story here. These wires mean something. Blue, white, yellow.”

You weren’t allowed to go for it... not when so many lives were at risk. This man was smart, that much you knew. There has to be a meaning behind the colors.

Jay could help you more than anyone. You knew it. He knew it too.

Blue, white, yellow.

***

“Blue, white, yellow.” He mumbled, not allowing himself to look at his watch. You didn’t have much time, he knew it - Jay just didn’t want a definite reminder of it.

He rocked his brain for explanations. For a clue within this case. Something.

30 seconds.

“Everyone evacuate now!” Boden shouted into his radio. Jay shut it out. His voice didn’t matter. Only you did.

Like an eagle, he searched for you and found you: crouched in front of the yellow capped boy, acting like his anchor he could hold onto. He couldn’t see how shaky you were from afar, he could only hope you were okay.

10 seconds.

“Jay!”

Yellow.

“This kid was his last target. He looks for the details,“ He explained to you. “Yellow.”

***

Like his beanie. You casted a stray glance at the boy, flashing him a tight lipped smile. The puffy beanie that was supposed to protect him from the cold just became the thing that saved his life. And the poor boy didn’t even know it.

3...

This is it.

2...

You didn’t think, only did what Jay told you. You cut through the yellow wire and stop the ticking destruction at the last second.

No sound is heard.

No man moves.

Only rigid breathing of your own manages to make its way inside your ears.

And then the boy starts to wail. His cries turn into what look like never ending sobs. You were glad he’s crying, and not in a bad way. The sound he started to make was a clear indicator of your survival. The bomb didn’t go off. You were safe. You never felt more alive.

Your friends swiped you in their arms immidiately. Every firefighter gave you a congratulation you never thought you would recieve. You just disabeled a bomb.

And it looked like you were the only one shocked.

Still shaking, your eyes searched for the man that helped you.

But Jay was already there, and by the time you turned around to search for him he had his fingertips around you. With a clean tug he pushed you against his chest and hugged you. His breathing was just as harsh as your own, but inside - he never felt prouder.

“You had my back,” you mumbled. Jay pulled a moment later, his blue eyes gazing down at you before he laughed. Laughed. “You were amazing baby.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Now let’s get you out of here.” He smiled, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you towards the exit. You were cheered after of course, it made your heart swell with pride.

On your way outside you saw the bomb squad, standing in lines next to their equipment. “Nice work guys.” Jay said sarcastically.

The two of you made your way to the shaky boy to make sure he was alright. People were gathered outisde, now that the threat was removed. Each and every one of them had their eyes glazed with tears of relief.

Their homes were safe. Their families were too.

Boden gave you the rest of the day off, and Jay was the one to drive you home.

“Let’s hope our work doesn’t clash like that ever again.”

“I agree,” Jay said quietly and pressed his lips safely against yours.

MASTERLIST

###

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#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #CHICAGO FIRE #chiacgo fire imagine #chicago fire fanfictio #reader oneshot

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frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Haunt (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Impeccable timing brings you and Wanda together.

Warnings: ghosts/demons, haunting, Ultron who?

A/N: as we get later into the series, the level of exposed I feel is only going to increase. I may or may not have put some of my own feelings into this one, which I usually do anyway, but this is a super personal thing that it took me a while to even tell my closest friend so...be gentle with me. and leave feedback!

**click here to be added to the taglist!!**

The rhythmic chopping of the knife through vegetables on the cutting board echoed through the sunlit kitchen, which was silent aside from the soft music playing through the bluetooth speaker. A grin appeared on Wanda’s lips as she realized she’d begun to mimic the beat of the current song, and if Pietro was here, he’d make his usual joke about her bringing work home. Luckily he wouldn’t be arriving for dinner for another two hours.

“Alexei, hi!” she greeted the tan corgi cheerfully as he padded into the room. “I’m sorry, but I can’t share any of this with you. The vet said you’re allergic to paprika, remember?”

An adoring smile was thrown Alexei’s way as he settled into one of his many beds to watch her cook. The vegetables were placed in a container near the stovetop as she headed to grab the aforementioned spice, sighing when she opened the cabinet and spotted the nearly empty jar.

“Can I trust you not to make a mess while I’m gone?” she asked Alexei as she faced him, chuckling when he raised his head from his paws with a curious tilt. “That’s what I thought.”

She quickly covered the food that was already prepped for the nonstick skillet resting on the stovetop and blew a kiss to her pup on the way out of the kitchen. Her phone and wallet were placed in the pockets of her jeans before she slipped on a hoodie, zipping it with one hand as she grabbed her keys with the other.

Traffic seemed lighter than usual as she made her way toward the main street, and she couldn’t fight the smile that appeared as she passed the many yards of children playing in front lawns. It was the last Saturday before the school year started, and they were determined to get as much time in the sun as they could before being stuck inside for five days a week. Wanda turned left at the end of the block and was just about to pass an alley when someone bumped into her.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

The whispered words seem to echo through the silent apartment at a deafening volume, each one timed perfectly along with every tap of your foot on the floor beside your bed. It was a taunting way of indirectly forcing you to count out the phrase that seemed to inevitably break you.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Please, can I just have one fucking day?” you pleaded as you lifted your head, keeping your gaze away from the corner of the room where the voice was coming from.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

A few more minutes passed before you grew tired of feeling suffocated, and you jumped off the bed to grab your phone and wallet, sliding them into your pockets before putting on a light hoodie that you zipped up as you walked. You snatched your keys from the hook beside the door before hurrying out of the apartment, locking the door and rushing down the hall and out to the street. Feeling the warm breeze and the sun on your cheeks was a welcoming contrast to the chill of your dark bedroom.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

You jumped in response to the rushed whisper in your ear, letting out a groan as the words continued to repeat while you took a shortcut through the alleys. Flashes of arms circling your waist and lips melting against yours poured into your mind and you stopped in the middle of the next alley to close your eyes and focus on breathing. The whispers quieted, and you were almost certain you were going to catch a break for once when a car horn went off. Your loud scream was masked by those of the children on the other side of the block as your eyes flew open and you started running, your journey to the sidewalk being cut short by another woman.

“Sorry!” you called out breathlessly as she stumbled back while trying to catch you, and you carefully pulled away with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No no, I’m fine,” she laughed nervously as she fixed her jacket sleeves, her bright smile falling a bit as she met your eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Also fine.” You averted your gaze with a harsh swallow, suddenly aware of how tired you must look. “Hey, I was headed to the grocery store...Am I going the right way?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes widened and her welcoming grin was restored. “I was actually going there myself if you’d like to walk with me.”

“Sure.”

The two of you turned and began walking side by side toward the busy intersection in silence, your steps seeming to line up perfectly, and you shook your head to clear the memory of those cursed words lining up with the tapping of your foot.

“So I’m not sure if this is too invasive of a stranger to ask but…” You faced the dark-haired woman and she did the same as you began crossing the parking lot. “I noticed you have a bit of an accent. Does that come from somewhere else?”

“Yes,” she answered with a bit of a chuckle. “My parents brought my twin brother and I here from Sokovia when we were 10, just before a bombing destroyed the building we used to live in.”

“Wow, your parents have impeccable timing. But that’s so cool that you have a twin. What’s his name? Well, I’d like to know your name first.”

“I’m Wanda,” she introduced herself with a smile that widened even more when you told her your name while shaking her hand. “And my brother’s name is Pietro.”

“Wait, is your brother Pietro Maximoff, the soccer player?” Your eyebrows raised instantly as she nodded. “My roommate loves soccer and she is obsessed with him. She has a huge Quicksilver poster on the wall above her bed.”

“They call him that because he runs so fast that the players from the opposing team always struggle to keep up.” Her laugh is muffled by the air conditioning as you walk through the automatic doors. “Do you need a cart? I really just came for one thing and maybe a bakery item or something.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just grabbing a few snacks.”

You take longer than necessary to make your way to the spices, snack aisles and bakery, which gives you a chance to learn about this bright-eyed, kindhearted woman with an accent that made your mind go a bit fuzzy. You found out that she was a music teacher at an elementary school, which sounded a lot more interesting than the job you’d chosen to stick with simply because you needed to pay bills. She was determined to convince you otherwise.

“Wanda, it’s fine!” you insisted as the two of you left the check out line and made your way toward the exit. “I actually prefer boring and normal right now anyway. I haven’t really ever been able to use those words when describing my life before, so this is great.”

You could feel her eyes locked on you as she followed you to the main street, and you waited for her at the corner to cross together, offering her a reassuring smile as the light changed. The two of you were standing in front of her one-story home within a few blocks, and as you took a look at the potted plants on either side of the welcome mat and lantern hung by the door, you couldn’t help but think that you’d be able to figure out this place was hers even if she hadn’t pointed it out.

“Pietro’s coming for dinner tonight if you and your roommate would like to join us,” she told you in a seemingly hopeful tone as she faced you from the steps leading to the porch. “I always make way too much food anyway.”

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Um...” You paused to clear your throat. “I actually have plans tonight but maybe I can come back tomorrow afternoon for a movie or something, if you’re not busy. I had fun with you.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great! I wake up pretty early so you can come over whenever.”

“Okay, cool. Cute dog, by the way.”

You nodded over at the corgi watching you from the window, grinning when Wanda followed your gaze and laughed, and you bid farewell with a simple wave before walking away to finish the trip back to your building. Your smile fell as the whispers began filling your ears again before you even reached the corner of the block, and you wondered how long this situation with Wanda would last before you scared her away.

Tags: @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #the avengers #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel

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bellakitse · 3 years

Text

I've got the remedy

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Derek gets sick with werewolf flu, and Stiles is left to watch over him. Their mutual crushes come to a head.

“Werewolf flu?”

Stiles Stilinski looks at his friend Lydia Martin dubiously as she stands in front of the stove, heating up soup. She’d called as he barely crossed back into the town lines – home on break from school, with an SOS text telling him to get his ass out to the Hale house. That wasn’t the surprising part, even being away at Berkeley didn’t stop the wolfy emergency-related texts. However, he could admit that their dear Alpha had a better handle on things these days, and he didn’t get too many ‘the world is coming to an end; we need your google-fu, Stiles’ call these days.

Not that Derek was willing to call his impressive skills ‘google-fu’ in the first place, no matter how much Stiles insists. Just because the big guy had mellowed out over the years doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a sourwolf.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, probably because she has explained twice, and he’s still not getting it. “Peter didn’t precisely tell us – “

“What?” he drags out sarcastically. “You mean Peter Hale was vague about something?”

Lydia shoots him another look, more annoyed than the last, and Stiles smiles delighted, riling her up is one of his favorite pastimes. “Yes, shocker,” she says, returning his tone. “And he didn’t call it werewolf flu, but that’s essentially what it is, and Derek has it.”

Stiles frowns, looking up at the kitchen ceiling like it’s going to open up and show him their Alpha. “Is he okay?”

Lydia rolls her eyes yet again, and Stiles is starting to worry for her eyesight if she continues this way. “Yes. He’s just more irritating, if that’s even possible. Werewolves barely ever get sick, so he’s handling it oh so gracefully,” she tells him. The aggravation in her voice makes him wince.

“Where is everyone?” he questions. He knows the pack arrived days ago, him being the last one to come back to town due to a late paper he had to hand in.

“Far away,” Lydia answers as she turns off the stove. “I called Deaton. He said that while rare, the werewolf flu is contagious to other werewolves, so I sent them away because I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with more supernatural whiny babies.”

Stiles snorts loudly at that. “Can’t Derek hear you right now?”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Like I care about the big bad wolf?” she asks, her mouth quirking upward when a growl vibrates through the house. Stiles shakes his head, amused. It’s times like this when he remembers why he was in love with her for so long.

“Okay, so why did you call me?” he asks, instantly regretting it when she gives him a bright smile. “No.”

“Stiles – “

He shakes his head quickly. “No, you just said he’s moodier than ever – “

“He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t drown in his own snot,” she says patiently, and the house shakes again with another growl.

“His betas – “ he tries over the huff Lydia lets out.

“Will get sick if they come near him,” she reminds him. “You really want to deal with a sick pack?”

Stiles lets out a sigh of his own as he reluctantly shakes his head. Scott alone used to be such a nightmare when he got sick before his wolfy transformation. “What about Allison?” he questions desperately.

Lydia looks at him like he’s stupid, and he knows why. Even years later, Allison and Derek aren’t particularly close. She’s pack because she’s Scott’s mate, but she’d probably just end up putting Derek out of his misery before bringing him tea with honey.

“You?” he questions in a last-ditch effort, knowing it useless by the way she looks at him.

“What exactly do you think I have been doing the last three days when I should have been studying, Stiles?”

“We’re on break,” he argues.

“You don’t win a Fields Medal by slacking off,” she shoots back with a flip of her hair. “Besides, I’m not Florence Nightingale.”

“And I am?” he asks. “What makes you think that leaving me with a sick and, per your words, grumpier Derek Hale is a good idea? I’m just going to annoy him more than usual, which I’m sure is not going to make him feel better faster.”

Lydia gives him a look that Stiles has come to know as her ‘Stiles, you’re such an idiot’ face. He’s used to it, but he’s not sure what he’s said right now to warrant it.

“What?” he questions when she continues to look at him like that.

Lydia rolls her eyes because it seems irritation is her default setting for the day and starts to make her way out of the kitchen into the living room to gather her jacket and purse. “The soup is ready. Make him drink plenty of water, and there are these herbs Deaton gave us. It’s already brewed. He has to drink that too. Word of warning, he says it tastes like death, so he’s going to pout about it. Make sure he drinks it in front of you. The first day the big baby poured it down the toilet.”

“Lydia, please,” he tries again as she puts her jacket on and heads for the door.

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Proving that she can be even more unimpressed with him still, Lydia rolls her eyes in a way that makes it seem it’s with her whole body.

“I don’t have time for your panic, so let me lay it out for you,” she says, not waiting for him to speak. “You two talk over the phone all the time. When you and I talk, you end up talking about him, and you get stupidly excited about making him laugh. He softens around you like no one else. You like each other, Stiles, and while it’s amusing for the rest of us to watch this little mating dance of yours, it’s also tedious as hell. Now, Derek has been a pain in the ass the last few days, and I guarantee you that you being here will put him in a better mood. So, I repeat, go upstairs and take care of your man.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out as he tries to process the truth bomb Lydia just dropped on his head. Seemingly taking his silence as an answer, she smiles, pleased with the havoc she has just wreaked, and walks out of the house, leaving him alone with a sick werewolf.

“Right,” he says to himself after a moment, closing his mouth and the door. He heads back to the kitchen, working on autopilot as he serves the soup Lydia heated up, pouring some of the herb-tea Lydia mentioned that does indeed smell like death and some water, placing it all on a carrying tray. All the while, he thinks about Lydia’s comments and the truth behind them.

He and Derek do talk all the time, sometimes for hours, about nothing and everything. He does get a ridiculous amount of joy when he can make the man laugh, and he’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing him, hoping to see and hear that laugh in person. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s had a crush on Derek since high school, something he thought he’d manage to hide pretty well, but if Lydia’s words were true, then maybe not so much.

He feels his face go hot at the idea that the pack might be aware of his feelings, or worse, Derek. Because even if by some chance he wasn’t aware of them before, there’s no way he’s lucky enough for Derek not to have heard Lydia now.

Every part of him is screaming at him to get back in his jeep and drive home where he could hide under his bed until it’s time to go back to school. Instead, he grabs the tray and starts to make his way up the renovated Hale house. He’s faced scarier things than his feelings since learning about the supernatural, and it’s not the first time he’s been interested in someone wildly out of his league.

It’s his M.O.

Besides, there’s no way he could actually leave a sick Derek alone to be miserable if he can make him feel better. Lord knows the guy has had enough misery in his life. With that in mind, he pushes the door to Derek’s room with his hip, ready to deal with whatever is inside.

What he isn’t ready for is how good Derek looks. Stiles hasn’t seen him in person in months since his last break, and he looks amazing. Leave it to Derek Hale to get some strange supernatural cold and still look like a GQ model.

Derek is sitting up on the bed, and except for an impressive bedhead and unusually flushed cheeks under his scruff, he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“Life is truly unfair,” he whispers to himself, getting a raised eyebrow in return. “What? Of course you would look this good while sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. Frankly, he’s annoyed by just how beautiful Derek is sometimes. “Can’t be like us lesser mortals who look like death when we have the flu? Do you just have to show us up?”

Derek stares at him for another moment before giving him an impressive eye-roll of his hazel-green eyes. “Why are you the most ridiculous person I know?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s simply not true. You also know Scott,” he answers as he makes his way towards the bed, tray in hand, silently apologizing to his friend for the dig.

Derek’s lips twitch for a second before he schools his features, but Stiles still catches it and celebrates the win with an amused grin of his own. It softens a bit as he sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table to get a better look at Derek.

He stands by his original opinion that Derek Hale is just way too gorgeous in general, much more for someone sick with a magical flu, but this close, he can see the bit of bruising around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His cheeks are rosy-pink from sickness, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to press his hand against one.

Derek lets out a surprised sound at his touch that startles Stiles into realizing what he’s done. He goes to take his hand off the werewolf, ready to apologize for overstepping when Derek gives him a surprise of his own by leaning into his touch, his pretty eyes fluttering shut, a peaceful look coming over his face.

Stiles holds his breath as Derek lets out another lovely rumbling sound from deep in his throat.

“Your hand is cool,” Derek murmurs softly, his eyes slowly opening to look at him. “It feels nice.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, feeling his stomach clench when Derek’s eyes drift to them, and he licks his own.

Holy shit, Lydia was right. This whole time he had figured that this was just one-sided. That it was him once again developing feelings for someone who would never return his affections. But looking at Derek now, he sees the same want and longing he sees in the mirror every day.

“Oh, screw you,” he breathes out, tightening his hold on Derek when he tries to pull away. “Nope, you don’t get to retreat now, sourwolf,” he warns him with narrowed eyes, proving his suspicions real by the way he listens to him. “You heard Lydia earlier,” he challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I have good ears,” Derek grumbles back.

“So you heard her when she said we have feelings for each other,” he says, his heart beating faster than usual with anxiety, and he knows Derek can hear that too. Derek’s almost timid, hopeful expression when he gives him a single nod helps ease that worry as he starts to feel hopeful too. “Only all this time, I thought I was the only one with feelings here.”

“I thought you were the smart one,” Derek murmurs, a small grin playing on his lips when he sputters indignantly.

Stiles huffs loudly, even as he’s unable to stop the silly grin that takes over his face.

“Your heartbeat sounds happy,” Derek tells him softly as he looks down to his chest.

“You like me back,” he answers, letting out an incredulous laugh when Derek smiles at him, not denying it. Instead, he looks at him fondly, causing Stiles’ heart to skip a beat at being the recipient of such a rare and special look. “I’m more than happy right now, Derek,” he shakes his head. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Derek smiles again, pushing off the mountain of pillows behind him, reaching out for him. Stiles does the same, placing his hands on Derek’s bare shoulders, playing with the edge of his white tank top. His face gets inches away from Stiles’ when he stops.

“Wait – “ he starts as Stiles already shakes his head.

“No, no waiting,” he whines, wrapping his fingers around the material of his shirt, leaning forward. He rubs the tip of his nose against Derek’s even as he tries to close the last inch of distance between their lips. “I have had a crush on you since like junior year, Derek. No waiting, no wasting any more time, kissing now.”

Derek chuckles slightly. This close up he can see Derek’s eyes shining with joy, and Stiles wants to be responsible for that from now on.

“I’m sick, remember?”

“Affects werewolves, not humans,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against Derek’s, sighing at the feel of their softness. His sigh turns into a low moan as Derek gives in, hauling him onto his lap, proving that werewolf flu or not, his strength is still superior.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as he cradles him between his legs. He kisses him slow and deeply, thoroughly, it being such a long time coming. He sinks his fingers into Derek’s hair gripping it harder than he intended, pulling on it on reflex when Derek gives his bottom lip a bite. The pleased growl Derek lets out against his mouth vibrates down his whole body, making his spine tingle. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, only for it to turn into a gasp when Derek ducks to kiss his way down his neck.

“Totally worth the risk,” he gets out, moaning as Derek traces his moles with his tongue.

Derek laughs against his throat. He pulls back to look at him, smiling widely. “You say that now, but don’t complain later if you do get sick.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, not really worried or caring right now when he’s in Derek’s arms. “If it happens, we’ll stay in bed together until we’re both better,” he answers, his eyes lighting up as he speaks. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s stay in bed.”

He waggles his eyebrows, grinning when Derek huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

“The most ridiculous person I know,” he mutters right as he rolls them over, ignoring the yelp Stiles lets out at the sudden movement.

Stiles blinks up at the ceiling while Derek throws an arm and a leg over him, settling around Stiles like he’s his own personal body pillow.

“What about the soup?” he questions even as he starts combing his fingers through Derek’s silky hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums out, his face tucked into Stiles’ neck, already sounding half-asleep. “It will keep.”

Stiles laughs softly, but still, he wraps his arms more securely around the sleeping wolf, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead because he can now, closing his eyes too.

The soup can wait.

#teen wolf #sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic #derek x stiles #my writing #my nostalgia for sterek kicked into gear today and this happened

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Ten

Summary: you finally get to visit the boys at the embassy. You and Javier finally get to consummate the relationship.

W/C: 6k+ (I’m sorry it’s the FINALE I had to)

Warnings: language as always, mentions of injury, SMUT! (18+ only), oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation if you squint, p in v sex, Javier Peña is his own warning when it comes to sex

A/N: YOU GUYS. this is it! I’m so honored that you guys love it as much as you do. This series was originally only supposed to be a oneshot but I just fell in love. I’m so glad I get to share it with you all! BIGGEST thanks to @remmysbounty for being my Colombian culture expert in this and helping me with my spanish phrases, listening to my ramblings, and generally being my editor and idea helper.

previous chapter | epilogue

“Ana, phone for you,” Lorena calls as you walk past the nurses’ station.

You nod, but you’re carrying a tray of medicine for a patient. “Can it wait?” You ask.

Lorena asks the person and then looks back up at you. “He says it’s quick.”

Sighing, you walk behind the desk. “Will you take this tray for me? Room 429,” you ask, and she nods dutifully, walking off with it after handing the phone to you. You answer the phone with your name, sitting in the chair Lorena was just in.

“Hey, it’s Steve,” a familiar southern voice says from the other end. You panic for a moment, wondering why he called you, but his voice seems relaxed. It can’t be anything too bad.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask, twirling the phone cord around your finger, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk.

Steve chuckles. “Not much. Just Javi bein’ a dumb fuck.”

“What’s new?” You sigh, but you both know that both of you have affection behind your teasing.

“Exactly,” Steve says in agreement. “Anyway, Javi’s back at work, as you know. The bandage he has is falling off, and he says it’s fine but I know enough from Connie to know that’s not good. She said you get off work soon, would you bring some stuff to the embassy?”

You look at the watch at your wrist. He’s right. You get off at noon, and it’s about 10 right now. “Yeah, of course. Could I bring you guys lunch too? Eat with you?”

There’s a small snort from the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds great. Listen, though, there’s some real shitty guys around here. You’re gonna get hit on and Peña isn’t gonna be happy about it.”

“I’ll be wearing scrubs, Steve. What is there to talk about?” You ask dryly, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Lonely and horny men desperate for an American woman aren’t above much. Just… lettin’ you know now.”

“I think I can handle it,” you roll your eyes, knowing he can hear it in your tone. “I’ll be there at 12:30 with lunch and supplies for Javi, alright?”

“Sounds good to me. Thank you, kid.”

“I’m, like, a few years younger than you. You act like you’re my dad.”

“Whatever,” he laughs and hangs up the phone.

After your shift, you enter Valeria’s diner. Her eyes light up as she sees you, rushing your way. “¡Ay, mi hermosita! ¿Quiubo, chiquita?” She asks, grabbing your arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell her genuinely with a smile. “I didn’t know if… the bombing, if it affected you. I’m so glad it didn’t.”

“And me with you! Especially that Javier, dios mio,” she shakes her head.

“Actually...” you chuckle a little. It’s a nervous laugh, afraid to tell her what happened. “Javi was injured. He and his partner were very near the bomb. He’s okay now, but he lost a lot of blood and had to have emergency surgery. He’s got a big scar here,” you tell her and trace along your abdomen where his injury was. “He’s back at work already, but he spent a few days in the hospital and about a week or two at home.”

Valeria frowns. “Oh no. I’m glad he‘s alright now. I worried so much about him, but I figured he lived since there were no American casualties.”

You nod. “Exactly. I’m actually on my way to the embassy now, bringing him some bandages, and I wanted to pick up lunch for him and his partner.”

The woman claps her hands together excitedly. “And here I am, blabbering on! I’ll go get an order in for you. What would you like, dear?”

You put in an order that you figure Javi and Steve would both like, waiting contently at a booth Valeria seats you at and sipping a coffee she brought to you.

The little restaurant makes you smile as you think about the memories. Laughing with Javier for hours in the early morning, sharing life stories and experiences. You realize now that you think you loved Javier even then, on the night when you sat a few booths over, wrapped in his leather jacket while his mustache collected little grains of sugar and cinnamon.

Not long after, Valeria comes to your table with two large bags of food. “I couldn’t help myself- I threw a few extra desserts and snacks in. Javier needs to eat more, tell him that I said that and that’s why there’s so much.”

You laugh happily and stand. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure to pass the message along.”

She takes your payment and hands you a large to-go cup of coffee- you deserve it after such a long shift, she tells you- before sending you on your way. The embassy is a distance away, and you hail a taxi to make your way there. The car fills with the scent of the fresh food, making your stomach rumble. When you arrive, you pay the driver and head inside.

A receptionist sits just inside. “May I help you?” She asks politely and without much interest.

“Uh….” you hadn’t expected this step. “Yes. I’m here for Agents Murphy and Peña?”

She nods, grabbing the phone. She dials a number and talks, making a face of annoyance as she switches to speaking English. She must’ve dialed Steve. She hangs up not long after. “Murphy will be here in a moment,” she tells you with a nod, and you back away to allow the next person to talk with her.

Steve finds you about a minute later. “Hey. That’s a lot of food,” he chuckles as he looks at the large bags you’re carrying.

“I went to Javier’s favorite place. This one waitress there absolutely adores him, so she gave me extra because he doesn’t eat enough,” you inform him with a smile. “She even threw in some free desserts.”

“Jesus. We could feed the whole embassy with those,” he shakes his head, taking one from you to lighten your load.

You walk through hallways and several sets of stairs, before entering the office area and finally reaching the two desks, one messy and one neat. Javier sits at the cluttered one, looking up and eyes lighting as he sees you. “Hey,” he laughs and even dares to smile: a rare sight when he’s at work. “What are you doing here?” He asks, rolling his chair back from his desk and taking your hand.

“Steve said you needed bandages,” you shrug and hold up one of the bags.

He gives him a dirty look and the blonde man simply shrugs, sitting at his own desk.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. What’s all this then?” He asks, referring to the bags you and Steve carry.

You set one on a free space in his desk and untie the top of the bag, setting a takeout container in front of him. “Lunch,” you say simply, opening the styrofoam to release a drift of a delicious smell.

Javier sighs at the scent. “Did you see Valeria then? Is that why there’s so much food?” He asks with a little laugh.

You nod. “Exactly.”

Javier sighs and grabs a fork from the bag. “Here,” he says, pulling you to sit on one of his thighs. You squeal at the movement, laughing and grabbing the desk once you’re seated.

“At least warn me, huh?” You laugh and he steals a quick kiss from you, earning a whistle from a man who walks past.

“Wow, Peña has moved on from fucking the informants,” the man chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

You both glare at him, though he finds yours more intimidating than Javier’s. “Mm, we’re projecting our sexual frustration, are we?” You ask, taking a bite of food in your mouth with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry about us, run on home to the wife who doesn’t want your dick anywhere near her,” you say with a sweet smile, turning back to Javier’s desk and sipping your coffee.

The man walks away with wide eyes and Murphy laughs genuinely. “Holy shit,” he shakes his head and smiles.

“What? It’s clearly true,” you chuckle, looking back at Javier and taking another bite of the food in front of you. He’s got his heart in his eyes, barely managing to hold back a grin.

“I fucking love you,” Javi laughs contently, waiting you to finish chewing. When you do, he kisses you passionately for a moment, releasing you a few seconds later.

“You got some observational skills, kid,” Steve snorts and shoves a bite of food in his face. “We should get you working here.”

You roll your eyes. “What is your thing with calling everyone kid, Murphy?” Javier laughs, and you nod enthusiastically. You were just about to ask the same thing.

Steve opens his mouth to answer but the phone on Javier’s desk rings. “Peña.” He makes several noises of agreement before hanging up a few moments later. “Trujillo needs something. Be right back,” he tells the both of you and presses a kiss to your head. You stand to allow him to, and he kisses your lips quickly before speed-walking up the steps from the bullpen area and out to somewhere else.

You sit back down and both you and Steve continue eating your food. A minute or so later, a woman walks past but stops as she sees you. “Oh my God, Steve, is this Connie?” she asks, leaning against his desk.

“No, this is Peña’s girlfriend. She and Connie work together,” he informs her. Her face sours at the word girlfriend.

You tell the woman your name and shake her hand with a smile. “Peña has a girlfriend? My god,” she laughs lightly. Javier walks back down to his desk and the woman’s eyes light up. You stand so he can sit again. “Javier Peña, all settled down.”

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckles and sits, pulling you back onto his lap. You squeal again at the sudden movement, more so for the amusement of the woman in front of you. Laughing, you steady yourself on his desk. “Javi, warm a girl!” You chuckle, turning around to kiss him quickly. You’d discovered recently that you couldn’t get enough of it now that you were allowed to do it.

The woman shakes her head and chuckles as she walks away, heels clacking on the tile floor of the embassy.

Steve rolls her eyes. “Ah, Carolina. Last woman at the embassy Javi hasn’t fucked, and she’s been going after him for months.”

“Bullshit,” you and Javier say at the same time, laughing and turning around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Bullshit to the fact that she’s the last woman here I haven’t fucked. Yeah, she’s been all over me,” he admits and nods.

“Well that’s too damn bad for her, isn’t it?” You laugh and offer Javier your cup of coffee.

He takes a swig and sighs. “Goddamn, this stuff tastes good. The coffee here is shit. We really need to do something about that,” he says to Steve, earning a shrug in response as he forks more food into his mouth.

The three of you eat in content silence, Javier keeping one arm wrapped around you as he eats. Steve flips through a file as he munches on his food too.

A couple of minutes later, a stone-faced bald man in army green fatigues walks. He raises an eyebrow as he sees you sitting on Javier’s lap.

You bite the bullet and introduce yourself first, telling him your name and offering a hand to shake. “Javier’s girlfriend.”

Javier chuckles at the man’s confused expression. “Yeah. Ángel, this is Trujillo. We work closely with him and his men. What else do you need?” He asks the man, turning the chair toward him.

“It can wait, I suppose, until after lunch. Wonderful to meet you, ma’am,” Trujillo says before walking off.

Javier shakes his head. “Now I see why the two of you can’t get shit done around here,” you tease and kiss the side of Javi’s head with a smile before taking the last bite of your food.

Not long after, the two men finish eating too. You stand from Javi’s desk. “Walk me out?” You ask him softly, and he nods. “I’ll see you later, Steve. Thanks for the invite,” you chuckle, taking Javier’s hand once you’re both standing.

As you walk through the halls, Javier is smiling. It’s a rare occurrence around the embassy, enough to draw stares. You smile proudly, lacing your fingers together as you walk. “So, Superman. I have a proposal,” you offer, looking up at him with big eyes.

“Shoot.”

“You get off work around six?”

“Sure do.”

“And I don’t work tonight.”

Javier chuckles as he looks down at you. “Where is this going, hm?”

You shrug a little. “All I hear about is how good you are in bed. How good of a lover you are,” you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. “Why don’t you prove it to me tonight, hm?” You ask, fingers tracing the seam where his buttons hold his tight shirt together- just barely.

“Oh god, cariño,” he murmurs. “I don’t know if my body is up to it yet, with the incision and-“

“I’m a nurse, Javi. Your nurse. I know medically that you’re stable by now. As long as it isn’t painful for you, we’re safe,” you tell him with a growing smile. “It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” You ask in a low voice, your hand sliding across the bare ‘v’ of his chest, exposed by his low-cut shirt.

“Yeah, it has.” Javier licks his lips as he looks down at you, a growing smile. “Your place. Sound good?”

“I’ve been waiting for this,” you admit with an excited grin, placing a kiss to his cheek as you reach the door. “You bring the protection,” you murmur next to his ear before kissing him softly on the lips. You break away and smile at his dazed face. “I’ll see you tonight. I love you,” You tell him and squeeze his hand.

“Fuck, I love you too, ángel,” Javi smiles and kisses your forehead, opening the door for you. “See you then.”

Six o’clock rolls around. You know Javier won’t come right from work, but you wait excitedly anyway. You treated yourself to a long hot shower, cleaning up and waiting. You’re dressed in a wrap dress and nothing else, waiting on the couch and trying to distract yourself with reruns of a telenovela. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses sit on your counter.

Surprisingly, a knock comes at your door around 6:15. You shout for them to enter and it’s Javier. “I thought you didn’t get off until 6:00,” you smirk a little as you look at him, closing the door behind himself.

“Steve covered for me. I left at 5, went home and showered, changed bandages and everything,” he chuckles, locking the door.

You smile and stand, walking over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How kind of him,” you chuckle softly, an arm around his waist. “Listen, I thought about it. If you’re still in pain, this can totally wait,” you offer, looking up at him with big and concerned eyes.

“I’ve wanted this from the moment I met you, ángel,” he murmurs, putting both hands on your waist. “Nothing could hold me back now.”

You throw your arms around his neck as Javier’s lips crash against yours, in a deep kiss that wastes no time. You make a soft noise of content against his lips and that spurs him on, his hands roaming all across your body. He breaks away, eyes wild and lips swollen already. “How many times have you cum in one night?” He asks, smirking.

You can’t help but moan in response, kissing him again deeply, your mouth exploring his. He breaks away again. “Answer.”

“Uh… three. On my own. Only once with someone else,” you tell him breathlessly, your brain so wrapped up in him that it’s difficult to think about anything other than him.

“Alright, then four’s the goal,” he chuckles, kissing you deeply and pulling your hips against his. His hands grope your ass and you moan softly.

It’s already the best you’ve ever had and he hasn’t even touched you. The passion and love you have for each other is evident in how deep and intense every little movement is, from the way you drag your nails down the back of his neck to the way he smooths his hands over the curve of your ass, feeling no panties beneath the dress. “Fuck,” he murmurs into your lips.

“My bedroom, please,” you whine, breaking away from him.

He nods, glancing in the direction of the hallway that leads to your room. He catches sight of the bottle of whiskey. “What was that for?” He asks, breathlessly chuckling.

“Confidence,” you admit with a laugh. “Don’t know why I thought I needed it. Not with you.”

“Well, it’ll go perfectly with cuddling in your bed after, hm?” He murmurs, kissing behind your ear. You sigh softly at the feeling and he walks you along to your bedroom, backwards, until you feel the backs of your legs pressed against your bed. “Let’s see what’s under here,” he mumbles breathlessly, kissing at your neck as he frantically fumbles to untie the knot around your waist that holds the wrap dress in place. He’s clearly experienced at removing all kinds of clothing, and you can feel your arousal starting to slide down to your upper thighs.

“Javi,” you whimper, and he swears he’s never heard anything sweeter.

“Oh fuck, dulzura,” he shudders at the way you sound, lifting his head and catching your lips in another intense kiss as he slips the dress off of your shoulders and it falls to the floor. “No bra, no panties,” he chuckles as he looks down, finding your exposed body. “Let’s begin, shall we?” He mumbles, his lips trailing from behind your ear to your neck to your collarbone to between your breasts.

“Please,” you whimper and Javier pushes you to lie down on the edge of the bed, sinking to his knees and spreading your legs. “Javi,” you mumble, gripping your breasts.

He looks up at you and swears he could cum in his pants right now, just from the way you look spread out for him. You’re already dripping and he bites his lip as he takes a long look at you. “Fuck, ángel,” he says with a shudder, unbuttoning his shirt quickly. “Play with your tits for me,” he commands as he slips the shirt off his shoulders, revealing his toned chest and the large gauze bandage covering part of his equally muscular abdomen.

You nod, though it doesn’t do much at this angle, and he finally gives in. His last bit of self control leaves his body as he licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, moaning into you at the way you taste. You whimper and your hips squirm softly before Javier brings a large hand up, pinning you down. “Javi… go slow, please,” you murmur. “It’s… been a while.”

He nods. “I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he breathes out, dark eyes even darker with his widened pupils. He’s just as entranced by you as he was by those heavy drugs in the hospital, his mind foggy from the way you taste. His nose nudges at your clit, causing you to make a soft noise. Javier slips a thick finger inside of you, shuddering at the way your walls flutter around it. “God, that’s gonna feel so good around my dick,” he mumbles, slipping in a second finger and lapping at your clit.

“Fuck,” you whimper as he curves his fingers inside of you, one hand sliding into that dark hair, gripping it. “I lied. You don’t have to go slow, do whatever you want to me,” you shiver and whine out, bucking your hips up only for Javier’s hand to push them back down.

“Patience,” he mumbles, latching onto your most sensitive spot and sucking on it softly. His fingers push in a little deeper and curve against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, wishing you had him to do it. You knew he would, with his reputation. Of course he would. He already feels like he knows every inch of your body, every sensitive little spot he can stroke to drive you wild. You squeal softly at the movement, your back arching. He smirks but continues, not bothering to stop and comment.

You’re already close, and it’s driving you wild, the other hand clutching at the comforter beneath you. “Not gonna last. Feels so good,” you murmur to him, almost ashamed at how quickly he’s going to make you reach your peak.

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” he mumbles into you, his eyes closing in concentration as his tongue works hard against your clit.

“Thought about this all the time. My fingers couldn’t get anywhere near as deep as yours, Javi,” you coo, brow furrowing. “Just wanted you inside of me, doing this to me. I thought about it every night since I met you,” you whimper. “Nowhere near as good- fuck, I’m about to-” you groan but it’s cut off as your orgasm washes over you, making your legs shake and your thighs clench around his head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the word tumbles from your mouth over and over again as it washes over you. After you come down, there’s a delicious oversensitivity inside of you. Javier doesn’t let up. “Javi,” you murmur softly.

“Gonna get another out of you, ángel,” he murmurs for a moment before going back with renewed intensity. You thought it was perfect before, but the way he continues now allows you to feel every bud on his tongue, every line in his fingerprints inside of you, the way his fingers move at slightly different speeds as they drag against that spot deep inside of you.

Only a few moments pass before you’re there again, whining out his name as you feel something warm gush from deep within you. It’s all too good, all too much, feels like an electric wire threaded through your limbs and core. “Javi,” you shudder as you finally come to your senses. “I- uh, did I just-” you say, eyes widening as you see the damp spot beneath you.

“You sure fucking did,” he smirks, removing his fingers from inside of you and sucking on the two slick digits.

“I’ve never done that,” you admit, biting your lip.

“It means I’m doing something right,” he chuckles a little, sitting up to kiss you softly, slowly. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you moan as his tongue probes your mouth ever so gently. “It’s all good, baby. Wanna see if I can make you do that again?” He asks, a cocky grin on his face. “You were promised four.”

You shudder softly, hands on his shoulders. “I was,” you chuckle with the little oxygen left in your lungs. “What do you say…” you trail off, reaching between the two of you and palming at his denim-covered erection, “I take care of you, you get one more out of me, and then we finally fuck, hm?” you ask, recovering your senses.

“How could I say no to that?” he murmurs, kissing you deeply again. You squeeze softly at the bulge, and he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “How- I, what do-”

“Lie down up there,” you tell him and nod toward the pillows. When you stand, you tear the comforter off of your bed and toss it aside. “We’ll just have to sleep without that tonight.” He raises an eyebrow. “You are staying the night, right?” You ask, suddenly taken aback.

He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah.” He pushes down his jeans and boxers and his dick springs free. He’s huge, not overly long but very thick, and you bite down on your lip to hold back a smirk. “Oh, you like this?” he chuckles a little, lying down with his arms above his head.

“Fuck,” you laugh softly, already imagining how he’ll feel inside. “Yeah, I do,” you nod and crawl onto the bed, lying down on your stomach between his spread legs.

You slowly trace a stripe along the underside of him, paying special attention to the frenulum and noticing the way his leg jerks beneath you. Adjusting yourself, you make big eyes up at him as you suck on the head, tracing the tip of your tongue against the little spot. “Fuck, you’re gonna have me cumming in seconds,” he laughs breathlessly. “You’re fucking amazing, baby,” he mumbles, his eyes slipping shut at the feeling. “Wait, stop, stop.”

You do exactly that, looking up at him with wide questioning eyes. “Yeah?”

Javier takes a deep breath and smirks. “You can make me cum with your mouth another time. I want this to be about you. Get up here and sit on my face.”

The boldness of his words makes your mouth fall open into a soft o-shape. You’ve certainly never done that before, but the idea is interesting. “It’ll be good, I promise. I already made you cum twice with my mouth, you know that,” he chuckles, stroking the side of your face.

“But…” Javier is much more experienced than you, you know that, so it must be fine, but there’s a little nagging insecurity inside of you. “What if I squirt again and, like, drown you?” you ask shyly.

Javier looks at you for a second before laughing softly. “No, it won’t. Come here, I can prove it to you if you’d like,” he offers, pushing a wisp of your hair back. The fact that you’re less experienced makes him even harder, if that’s physically possible, and you can feel it in your hand. He wants to do this, and that reassures you. You gulp and nod. “That’s my good girl,” Javi mumbles darkly.

You shudder at his words, your skin prickling. He can feel it. “Oh, you like that,” he murmurs. He scoots to lie flat on his back on the bed. “Come on up here, baby,” he says softly, and you agree.

You straddle his legs and gradually make your way over his body, careful to lift your hips as you pass over the incision. You’re hovering above his chest, looking down at him with the question in your eyes. “What if I like, crush your head?” You murmur and bite your lip.

“If you don’t want to, we won’t,” he mumbles, stroking your thigh. “Do you want to?” he asks.

“Yes,” you nod shyly. You’re not used to being this open about your wants.

“Then let me take care of you,” he murmurs, hands on your hips and pulling you gently. Inviting you onto his waiting lips.

You slide your hips the rest of the way and moan as his tongue finds your clit almost immediately. He moans back, entranced by you already. He puts on a bit more of a show, making loud noises and digging his fingers into your ass. He murmurs something into you but it’s lost in your folds as he lavishes your clit with his attention.

“Okay, I like this,” you admit with a breathless chuckle, moaning at the way his tongue works against you, his mustache tickles you, his nose nudges your clit when his tongue is elsewhere. You’re still hyper-sensitive from earlier, and you can tell. Your orgasm approaches rapidly, faster than it has ever before. You fall slightly forward, bracing yourself against the headboard as the tingling sensation builds.

“Gonna cum,” you warn him, panting heavily, your hands gripping the headboard tight. He makes a noise of approval and the vibrations from it cause you to let go, practically wailing his name. Your toes curl in pleasure, whimpering as it pulses through your body. It leaks from you before you can notice it, squirting into Javier’s mouth. He swallows every last bit of it, moaning at the way you taste.

Javier’s been so patient with you, putting everything about you first. He continues to eat you out as you come down from it. Eventually, you lift your hips, kneeling with your still-dripping pussy over his face. “You gonna fuck me now?” you ask, barely any air in your voice.

“Oh God yeah,” he chuckles, pressing one last kiss to your clit before pushing you over to lie next to him.

“Javi!” You squeal out with a laugh, falling next to him, his face by your legs. You’re giggling as you look over at him, hands on your bare stomach. “What if I would’ve landed on you and hit the incision?” you chide, though you both know it’s joking.

“It’d be worth it,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee. He stands with a groan, cracking his neck and grabbing the condom from the pocket of his jeans. He opens it and rolls it over his leaking dick, and you smirk as you look at it, adjusting yourself back where he was lying.

“You sure this’ll be okay with the abs?” you ask him as he walks back to your side, your fingers ghosting over the gauze-covered incision.

He nods. “Yeah. You ready?” He asks, a hand cupping your face to look up at him.

“I’m waiting on the fourth,” you tease, giving his dick a gentle tug and earning a groan. “Now get on top of me and fuck me, Superman,” you say with a seductive smile, licking your lips.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles softly, propping his arms up on either side of you and nestling his hips between your legs. You can feel his dick pressing against your folds, and you grind your hips up into his. He moans, shivering hard. “Oh fuck. You better know it’s not gonna take long,” he tells you. “Fuckin’ dreamed about this for so long. First time I saw those tits bouncing on the treadmill, your ass when you were doing those squats,” he admits, hand running up your side and pinching a nipple as he finally admires your bare body beneath him.

“Get poetic later, get inside me now,” you beg of him, leaning up and kissing him deeply. He paws at a tit and you whine into his lips, harder when he rolls a nipple between two fingers. “Don’t tease,” you plead, spreading your legs wider.

He finally slides in and swears he’s seeing stars from the second the head is past your entrance. He groans out before he can stop himself, and you involuntarily make a matching sound. “Javier,” you cry, the way he stretches you making your already dripping pussy even wetter.

He nods. “Yeah baby,” he mumbles next to your ear.

“Start moving, I’m ready, come on,” you urge, nipping at his earlobe that dangles just above your lips. He shivers at the feeling and nods, pulling out and pushing back in. The first thrust and he’s already holding back.

He moans your name quietly, starting a slow but steady rhythm, pounding in and out of you. He looks down and bites his lip as he sees the way your tits jiggle with his thrusts. “Oh, ángel,” he groans. You bend up and kiss at his neck, daring to work a mark into the skin. “Yeah, that’s my girl, marking me up. Want that girl at the embassy to see it when I’m at work tomorrow, don’t you?” he grunts, breathing heavily already.

“All mine, no one else’s.”

“All yours, baby,” he nods, thrusting harder. “Give ‘em something to talk about, mark me up,” he groans, his eyes almost rolling back in his head from the feeling. You nod, leaving love bites and hickeys all over the smooth skin of his neck, the skin that smells like aftershave and soap and cigarettes and his sweat.

He reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs circles into your clit in time with the thrusts. “Oh, fuck do I love you, baby,” he groans. “You gonna come again?”

You’re embarrassingly close already, and the fact that he can tell is even hotter. “Yeah,” you whine into the thick column of his neck.

“Good girl, gonna squirt around me?”

“Yeah,” you whimper again, hips grinding against his hand. “Love you so much, Javi.”

“Love you too. Go for it, baby. Do it,” he asks of you, and who are you to deny him of the sensation in the moment? You stop holding back, your walls fluttering around him and your pussy leaking as your whole body tenses.

“Javi,” you cry into his ear, clinging to the back of his head and pulling him down to where you’re now lying flat, limp as a rag doll from his ministrations.

“That’s my girl,” he coos in his gravelly voice, biting down on his lip. “So good, fuck, love you baby,” he grunts in time with sporadic thrusts as he finally spills into the condom, an animalistic cry coming from his throat.

His thrusts slow and he gradually pulls out of you, lying down and pulling you into his side. “Would you believe me if I said that’s the best I’ve ever had?” He pants out, kissing the side of your head.

You drape an arm across him. “It’d be an honor,” you chuckle softly.

“It was,” he tells you honestly, this time kissing your lips. “God, I fucking love you,” he tells you with a dazed smile, eyes slipping shut.

He’s so sexy like this, sweat beaded on his forehead and dark hair stuck to it. He’s fucking beautiful is what he is, like a work of art with those swollen lips and the developing bruises on his neck. He’s your personal masterpiece. You’ve done all of those things to him, made him fill that condom, hell, you put those stitches in yourself before he left the hospital. He’s fully and truly yours. “I love you too, Javi,” you tell him, pressing your lips together in a smile as your eyes water.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks quickly as his eyes open.

“I just love you so much,” you admit with a watery voice. “That was the best I’ve ever felt, and you let me ask stupid questions, and you did this all even though I thought you were gonna bleed out in my arms a couple of weeks ago.” You bury your face where his chest meets his arm, the tears freely running.

“Ángel,” he coos and kisses your head. “You are the entire world, you know that? You saved my fucking life, not just from the shrapnel. I would’ve drank and smoked and worked myself to death if you didn’t come in.”

“And I would’ve died from that cold,” you add with a weak giggle.

“And you would’ve died from that cold,” he chuckles and lifts your head. “I love you so much. No solo como te quiero, como te amo.”

There’s a difference in the way Spanish speakers say “I love you” that native English speakers cannot understand. We say I love you to our dogs, to our partners, to our sisters and parents and to our lovers and spouses. It’s all the same way to say it: I love you. In Spanish, there is te quiero and te amo. Javier might say te quiero to his father, to Connie when she brings him food during a rough hangover. Never in his life has the man said te amo and meant it. Not to Lorraine, not to any girl he ever held in his arms as he pounded her senseless. Never, except to you.

And you can feel it in the way he presses a tender kiss to your face, in the way a tear drips from his eye and onto your forehead. He loves you in the way that inspired the greatest artists to write sonnets and plays and make beautiful art, the way that Escobar would do anything, would kill for his beloved Tata, the way Romeo and Juliet loved and fell hard and didn’t care about the repercussions and died for love of each other.

“Javi,” you coo, looking into his big brown eyes that are brimming with tears. “Te amo también, te amo, y nunca lo olvides.”

thanks for reading!

translations:

quiubo- what’s happening, what’s up

Chiquita- girl, girlfriend

dulzura- sweetheart

Y nunca lo olvides- and don’t you ever forget it.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @diogodxlot @wonderlandgabby @yooforia @sara-alonso @dodgerandevans @pedrosmustache @apascalrascal @tanyaherondale @marydjarin @obsessivelysearching @sleep-tight1 @drinkingwhileblogging @pedro-pastel @notabotiswear @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #narcos fanfic #narcos #blood sweat and tears #pascalpanic

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tlou-1 · 3 years

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Joel Miller x Reader (Home) Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Joel still hasn't returned from patrol, you set off after him and what you find is beyond what you could have worried about.

You look at the clock again, 11:15 and still Joel wasn’t back. You had been pacing the kitchen with Patrick playing at your feet, Joel was over an hour late. Another half an hour passed and you couldn’t sit in the house any longer. You picked up Patrick and made your way to Maria’s post for the day in town, “Maria it’s been two hours and none of them are back. Looks at the clouds out there, somethings wrong I can just feel it” You plead with her but she just says they have probably bunkered down with the snow, “and nothing on the radio either?” You ask, she shakes her head. Right that settled it, you turned and made your way to your sisters. Before Molly could greet you as she opened the door you began “Joel has been out since dark this morning and still isn’t back. I need you to take Patrick for me”, you try to hand him to her but she says “No”, there is a pause for a moment “No? What do you mean No, Molly I really need” but she interrupts you by grabbing a jacket and locking her door, “Because I am coming with you. We can drop him off at the day care”.

You and Molly try to sneak into the stables to retrieve a horse each but of course Maria had you sussed and was waiting for you. “Maria I need to go out there, I know it sounds crazy but I have a bad feeling” you argue.

“You’re right, it does sound crazy“ she responds, she was always so set on rules.

“Do you know what, maybe it does but it’s your husband out there as well. Tell me you aren’t worried about them being out there with no sleep, in a blizzard with reports of hoards of infected. I am more capable than most folk in this town and I am going out there” you say sternly close to her face and she knew you were not going to budge.

“Okay” she concedes and proceeds to pass you the reigns of the horse and your bag back filled with your gear. “I cant spare many folks to go out with you, Jesse, Dina and Ellie are already out there you can meet them at one of the posts” she explains. Jesus now your worry turned to them but your line of thought is interrupted by the radio, it was Jesse. “Maria, Tommy and Joel didn’t show to trade off” he explained. You take the radio from Maria, “Jesse its Y/N, where were they patrolling? Can you get, Ellie and Dina and meet me there?” You ask, he agrees to your plan. Your sister in laws body language had changed during the exchange.

“We need to go now” you shout to Molly as your get on your horse and take off. Behind you Molly is following and Maria had saddled up obviously now sharing in your worry.

The wind and snow was harsh and whipped at your face as you rode ahead as fast as the horse would carry you, you must have been not far behind Ellie now. Neither Joel or Tommy’s had been at their post but their tracks had led you to a Chalet you had visited a couple of times on patrols. As you approached closer you could see more than two sets of tracks, they were disrupted slightly from the storm but there was defiantly a number of different footprints, other people were here. You had to be smart about this, the rest of the guys were still a bit behind you. You move into the building as quietly as possible and have to take out one guy standing watch at a patio door, he had a fresh cut right across his face. If anyone finds him they will know someone else is here, you had to move swiftly. As soon as enter the lodge you can hear cries of pain, guttural cries. It makes your stomach churn, you were right to have had a bad feeling. One more girl is pacing in the kitchen, you silence her by taking your small knife down on her. It had been a number of years since you had taken the life of a living person but you didn’t hesitate after hearing those cries.

You follow the cries to a narrow staircase with a door at the bottom of it, you could feel your heart in you mouth as you took each step closer to the door. You peer through the slight crack and see a group of unfamiliar people and a figure standing above a bloody one. You take a breath remember where each person was standing, attach your silencer and pushing open the door quietly, you take out the three people closest to the door, one dead ahead the other two to your right side. You were still one of the best shots without a doubt, maybe just as good as Tommy. There were three left by the time they realised what had happened and your presence, a young man standing next to a women with cropped dark hair and a large women standing above the bloody figure, it was Joel along with Ellie and Tommy unconscious.

The man goes to grab a pistol, lying next to the body of one of the men you just shot and without hesitation you reach round to your backpack pocket. Thank god it was still there.

“Don’t any of you fucking move, or I will blow up everyone of us in this room” you spit out as you hold the grenade in their sight. They each stop in their tracks and the large girl standing above your husband loosens her grip on club. Joel tires to speak but barely a sound escapes his lips.

“You’re bluffing, why would y-“ she begins.

“Try me”, you challenge her and there is a long pause “You let them go… you leave here and everyone gets to walk away from this or every single one of us just end it here”. This was madness but what other chance had you got, either way the people you loved could wind up dead, the only thing to stop these strangers was the threat of loosing their own lives and if it meant you went with them, so be it.

“No, not him, not after what he did.” The girl lifted the club but you jump in “What ever he did, I am walking out of here with him, our daughter and that other man alive or none of us are”

“He took everything from us! Killed my father, ruined any chance of a cure” the women says lowly shaking her head.

“You’re fireflies?” You ask looking around at them but you already know the answer from what she had said.

“Were. There are none, left he made sure of that. Killed most of us.” She answers. You speak without thinking, a stupid thing to do.

“I don’t blame him… Protecting her, I would have done the same. They were going to butcher the brain of a child, our daughter for the smallest chance of cure. If that’s the price for a potential cure and humanity were so eager and willing to pay it, we didn’t deserve it. I know that much.”

She looks like she has seen red and goes to lift the club again but before she can send it crashing down one of the fireflies, the man stops her and you have pulled the pin on the grenade keeping your finger firmly pressed on the clip as he intervenes.

“Abby stop! She is going to kill all of us” he pleads with her looking between Abby and the women behind him with cropped dark hair that he called Mel. Your hand is shaking from your firm grip on the clip.

“Are you insane?” The man asked, “When it comes to my family, yes” You reply looking down at Joel and Ellie.

“Figures, crazy man, crazy wife” scoffs the other woman says looking between you and Joel.

“Don’t fucking touch him. I am giving you all a chance, take it. If I let go of this clip, dead or alive it only takes two seconds for this thing to go off”. You try sounding as calm as possible and it seems to pay off but inside your terrified more than you had ever been. In your head you pray, you had never prayed in your life, for them to leave, for the woman to put down the club, for them not to shoot you, for this bomb to be a dud like Joel had said but for them to not find out it was.

You can hear commission from upstairs as the rest of the search party have caught up with you, you had bought all the time you needed. Owen grabs Mel by the arm and leaves through garage door.

“You should go with your friends”

Abby looks torn for a moment her eyes fixed on Joel before she flings the golf club to her side and takes off, on horse back alongside her friends but you felt this part of the past would rear its ugly head again.

As soon as it sounds clear you carefully place the pin back in the grenade and fall to the floor, guess you will never know if it was a dud or you almost killed everyone in this room. Ellie is still breathing but bruised, you look across at Tommy, the same. Your husband, you crawl across to Joel, the ground around him covered in blood you can feel it soaking your jeans.

“Jesus, Joel can you hear me?” you say softly, tears in your eyes from the sight of him. His right eye swollen, strips of blood pouring down his face from a couple gashes he had taken on the head. You were worried to touch him in case it caused any more pain, it was hard to look at him like this.

“You got to stay with me, you cant leave me, you hear? You promised” you cry just as Maria, Jesse, Dina and Molly enter the room.

“Holy Fuck” Jesse whispers. You beg them to help Joel, Dina checks on Ellie who is starting to gain consciousness along with Tommy.

“The storm has almost passed, Jesse and Dina find something we can make a stretcher out of. We can strap it to one of the horses and pull him back”. Maria says at her husbands side, it was the best anyone could do in the dead of winter. No one even thought about going after the remaining three strangers, what was important was the three people who each of you loved in this room.

You rode behind Jesse who’s horse is pulling Joel the entire trip, he sometimes groans or shifts and all you want to do is ask to stop and let him rest but there was no time for it, you had to get back as swiftly as possible. As soon as you arrive back in Jackson men are there to carry Joel’s stretcher into the surgery, you follow behind asking Dr Henry if he would be okay. She didn’t respond focusing solely on Joel, she tells you to stay in the hallway and when you start to protest and push forward Jesse is there pulling you back and when you stop fighting him into a hug. You finally let out a cry from everything, the horror of what you had seen, what you had almost done and at the thought of your husband’s life still hanging in the balance. Everything goes to black for a moment.

*NOTES - I have to say I found this one pretty difficult to write so I apologise if it doesn't land as well as the other chapters. There is just so much that happens. I have decided to deviate slightly from the game, we have all seen the dark ending for Joel in the game so lets try something different

#the last of us fanfic #The Last of Us #The Last of Us Part 2 #The Last of Us Part ii #Joel Miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou joel #tloufanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #Ellie Williams #ellie x joel #tlou ellie #tlou dina #tlou jesse

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rekisboard · 3 years

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✨Shadow x Oka oneshot for the soul✨

“Roses mean love, they show love, like my love or well like wait no, damnit! I can’t do this.” Shadow squatted down on the floor.

“Yes you can Shadow. Just look him straight in the eye and and tell him you wanna go out!”

“Yea and like you weren’t in my place when you asked Langa out red.” He lifted his head up.

Reki blushed and rubbed the back of his head muttering something “well whatever, but come on Shadow. Your so amazing im sure Oka will love you. He seems to never shut up about you after Langa’s winning party anyways.”

“Yea right. I’m just some scary unlovable guy to him.”

“Shadow im serious. Hell ask Langa he’ll tell you the same.”

Shadow sighed and stood up when he had an idea “hey wait I have a beef in a few days! Maybe he can watch me!”

“Ok but do you really want him to see you throwing bombs and stuff at someone. I mean he already has but like-“

“No I can do it! I’ll invite him myself! Show him I’m worthy!”

“I... you know what alright Shadow. I’ll be right behind you on this.” He smiled.

“Alright well my breaks over so you should get going. Don’t you have a date with Langa anyways?”

Reki’s eyes widened and he ran out the back door of the shop and ran in a hurry. Shadow chuckled and sighed walking out of the room and greeting his manager again. He was still a bit heartbroken when he found out she had a boyfriend but then he met someone better. Throughout the day he had a gentle smile, more so than usual, and a skip in his step. He was going to ask him today.

“Hiromi? You seem happier then usual today. Anything special going on?”

“You could say that. I’m going to ask someone on a date.” He said to his manager.

“Oh well I hope they say yes! You deserve the best in the world anyways.” She smiled softly.

He nodded and hugged her goodbye as he left the shop. As he rode in his car he looked at the purple sky as it shifted into night. He smiled and took notice of how beautiful everything looked at the moment. Of course he still had anxiety starting to build up as he got closer to the shop, but he was getting even more fired up as well.

Oka stretched his arms and leaned back in his seat. The shop had been slow today but that was okay, especially since the two love birds wanted to have a date today. He looked over to the pot on the front counter. He smiled softly, he never thought Shadow, that mean scary hunk of a guy, was in actuality, a sweetheart. The flowers he gave where still in good condition, thanks to Oka of course.

He was awakened from his gaze when the door opened. He looked over ready to welcome the customer, when he realized who it was.

“Hey Shadow! Sorry the boys aren’t here tonight-“

“Oh Umm I didn’t come to see them. I wanted to see you.” He smiled walking to the counter.

“Me? Oh well I’d assume it’s about a board then, so what kind of board-“

“Will you watch me at my next beef?” The room went silent.

Oka could feel the heat come to his cheeks “you want me to watch your next beef?”

“Yes. It would be an honor honestly.” Shadow was turning the same shade as Reki’s hair.

“I’d love too.” Oka smiled.

“Really? Cool cool cool. Yea cool. Umm anyways it’s in two days and umm I can pick you up if you want.”

“Yea I’d like that.”

“Ok then I will. I should get going now though.”

“Are you sure? I mean you just got here.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Oka hesitated a bit before he spoke again “yes.. I mean I am closing up shop in a few minutes so it would be nice if I had some help.”

“Yea of course I’ll help you.”

The two cleaned up shop will talking about different things, but both had the same idea in their mind, and both where very happy and excited. When they had to part ways a heavy tension was in the air, nothing bad of course, more of a sad tension.

“Well I’ll see you again in two days.” Oka said stepping into his car.

“Yea, two days you’ll be cheering me on.”

“Of course.”

Two days where so little, yet so so so so so so, very slow.

The day of the race Shadow had been running around trying to make his makeup the best it’s ever been before. He was great full for Cherry though, since he offered to take the boys to the race instead so that it could just be him and Oka just for that small bit.

Shadow got to the store and smiled. Oka had Sketchy on his shoulder as he ran to the car smiling. When he got inside the two greeted each other and went off. It was quiet at first until Oka spoke up.

“So, what’s the beef about?”

“Some newbie really, he challenged me and whoever wins burns the others wheels on his board.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know really. This was all him. I was bored at the time so I said hey what the hell why not and here we are.”

“Do you think you’ll win.”

Shadow hesitated “maybe. I uhh I’m changing my ways a bit for tonight. You know he’s just a newbie anyways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

The crowd was pretty big that night. It had been a while since Shadow had a beef so everyone was quite excited. The newbie was pretty impressive already too. So they all new this would be an interesting race.

Reki Langa and Miya had been fighting over why people can’t breath underwater if water had oxygen already when the too walked up.

“Hey guys.” Oka smiled.

“Oka knock sense into my boyfriends head please! He thinks we should be able to breath underwater!” Reki yelled.

“Well we should! If water has oxygen why can’t we just adapt to having gills and breath the oxygen out?!” Langa yelled back.

“Both of you have good points and that’s what I hate!” Miya groaned.

“Should we answer that question?” Shadow said.

“No I go through this daily anyways with those two.” Oka said.

“Boys stop, all three of you sound idiotic. Hellow Shadow. Hey Oka.” Cherry walked up with Joe trailing behind.

“Hey Cherry. Have you seen the newbie?”

“Yea he’s already at the start.” Joe responded “he says he going to wipe you out.”

Shadow scoffed “we’ll see about that.”

The group made their way over to the starting line and saw the newbie standing there waiting. The group wished Shadow a good luck and he went over when Oka quickly grabbed his arm.

“Be safe, alright?”

“Yea, of course.” He smiled.

Oka sighed and let him go watching him go up. They got ready and zoomed off. Oka grabbed his phone and started making his way to the finish line while watching. That’s when he realized it, what Shadow was doing differently.

“I thought they said you have tricks and gadgets uo your sleeve!” The newbie said sounding a bit angered.

Shadow groaned ignoring him and skated up infront of him. The match was boring for Shadow as it was. The newbie would try getting infront of him but it would be so predictable that Shadow would be quick to avoid him.

“He’s not using his bombs or anything.” Reki said looking at the screen.

“That’s unusual for him.” Cherry stated. “Then again, he seemed more stiff tonight. Why did he bring Oka anyways.”

Reki smiled “Too scared to ask Oka on a date so he brought him here.”

“Shadow likes Oka? That’s new.” Joe chuckled.

“I assume he didn’t bring anything because he didn’t want to look terrible infront of Oka.” Langa noted.

Oka got to the finished line and continued watching his phone. Shadow seemed pretty happy, he looked like he was having more fun without his stupid tricks he could say. Oka smiled when Shadow entered the building with the rookie trailing behind. Oka stood watching the stairs as Shadow came hurling down laughing. Oka laughed at his expression once he hit the ground.

Shadow hit the ground and looked up seeing Oka standing right infront of him smiling. His eyes widened and he grinned wider pushing his way past the line and straight over to Oka. The crowd cheered for Shadow but Shadow had something else on his mind at the moment.

“I did it! Did I do good?”

“You did amazing Shadow. I’m impressed, you didn’t use any of your fancy tricks today.”

Shadow smiled and rubbed the back of his head “yea about. I just.. I just ummm. I I know your not a fan of it so I really like Umm I don’t know-“

“You didn’t use them because I was here? You should have, don’t let me not hold you back-“

“That’s not what I’m saying, I didn’t want to use them because, I wanted to impress you. That I could win without anything.” Shadow was currently very great full for makeup.

Oka blushed “I think your cooler with them.”

Shadow smiled and fiddled with his jacket. He’d almost forgotten that the rookie was behind him waiting for him to burn his wheels. He looked pretty defeated. Shadow sighed and agreed that he wouldn’t do it, he had important matters right now. Let’s just say, the newbie was greatful for that.

The two walked away from the building in silence. But it wasn’t awkward, it was comforting.

“Hey Oka, wanna leave before the others come and get something to eat?”

“It’s a date.” He smiled.

Shadow smiled and grabbed his hand as the two ran to his car. Tonight has definitely gone better then expected.

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 reki #sk8 renga #langa sk8 #cancel the sk8 palm trees #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #joe sk8 the infinity #renga #cherry blossom

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firstfrostfall · 3 years

Text

A Cold Lament - Chapter Five

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

“I’m freezing my fucking balls off, Tom,” Arthur grumbled while taking a sharp swig from his flask.

Tommy stood with his brothers in an open field atop a grassy hill, the ground beneath them still moist from an earlier frost. It was a clear and sunny day, despite the bitter December wind that nipped at their faces. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue above the hazy tree line on the horizon, without a single cloud in sight.

They were trying to purchase the Appaloosa that Tommy had his eyes on, but it was turning out to be more of a waiting game than anything else. Their meeting spot with the seller was out in the countryside, far away from any signs of civilization. So much so, that the roads were nothing more than sets of winding dirt trails, and the truck they borrowed from Charlie Strong had gotten stuck in muddy puddles on more than one occasion during their drive. Another fucking headache.

“Easy,” Tommy reached for his pocket watch and glanced at the time. It was only a little after 11 am. “The seller will be here any minute now, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying any minute now for twenty fuckin’ minutes.” John retorted.

“Can someone remind me why we’re buying this damned horse again?” Arthur tugged his cap lower on his head. “It’s the bloody winter. What do we need a horse for? The races aren’t until spring.”

“Horses take time to be trained, Arthur.” Tommy gave him a tight-lipped reply.

Eventually, after about another twenty minutes of waiting around in the cold (much to John’s dismay), their seller came sputtering up the road in a beaten-down truck with the horse in tow.

“G’day, boys!” The seller called from the truck, waving his hand wildly out of the window. Two gruff-looking men sat in the seat beside him. “Brisk morning, isn’t it?”

“Quite.” Tommy quipped, forcing a smile. John scoffed and rolled his eyes.

The seller hopped out of the driver’s seat and tipped his ragged tweed cap to them. He was a short and stout older man, with bushy eyebrows and a scraggly white beard.

“Leroy.” He reached to shake Tommy’s hand.

“Thomas,” Tommy jerked his chin toward his brothers who stood beside him. “These are my brothers, Arthur and John.”

“You’re Polly Gray’s kin, yeah?” Leroy asked while plucking a tall piece of dried grass from the earth and placing it in his mouth.

“We’re her nephews,” Arthur answered, glancing at the two men who were still sitting in the truck.

“Ah, that’s very nice.” The older man chewed on the blade of grass. “Very nice.”

Tommy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something off-putting about the man. Too much small talk, too many fake pleasantries.

“What clan are you from?”

“No clan, just traveling on my own.”

“Who's in the truck?” Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, no one. Just some hired protection for myself,” Leroy waved a hand at them. “Nothing to concern yourselves with. I’m an old man selling horses, can’t ever be too careful, yeah?” he paused for a moment, then added with a wink, “I’m sure you boys know how these deals can go.”

Tommy hummed in affirmation. An old man selling stolen horses, that is.

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, kicking at a clump of dirt on the ground.

“Now, enough with the niceties. Shall we take a look at that horse?”

Tommy gave a pointed nod and followed him around to the back of the truck. The three brothers watched Leroy eased the horse out of the stall, whispering to her while she wildly thrashed her head around.

“Ha, she’s got quite the personality,” The seller grimaced as he tugged on the reins in an attempt to quell her, so vigorously that his heels dug into the muddy earth.

“We can see that,” John scoffed while nudging Arthur in the side.

Eventually, the horse settled, huffing and puffing clouds from its nostrils and into the frigid air. Tommy stepped forward to appraise the horse more closely. He ran his hands down its legs and inspected each hoof, then curling back its lips to examine the teeth. She had a palomino coloring, a white mane and tail with a chestnut coat that faded into white speckles.

“She’s beautiful,” Tommy gave the horse a few final pats on the shoulder. “We’ll take her.” He motioned for his brother to come toward him with the flick of his wrist. “The payment, John.”

John nodded, taking a few strides to his brother. Before he could reach into his coat for the money, Leroy cleared his throat loudly.

“Ah, yes, the payment,” He smiled and gave the reins a tug. “The price is double of what we spoke about earlier.”

Tommy stared at him blankly. “What changed?”

“My mind. That’s what changed.” Leroy exhaled dramatically. “This here is a good horse,” He punctuated each of his words with a pat on the horse’s neck. “I have a lot of interested buyers who are willing to pay the extra... fees.”

“Fees?” John echoed, his mouth agape. “What fees?”

Tommy raised a hand to silence his brother. “You said you were only dealing with us.”

“Yes, well,” The seller shrugged. “People say a lot of things.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head, reaching for the cigarette case he tucked inside of his jacket. “We’re buying the horse for the amount we originally settled on.”

“Says who?”

“Says us.” John narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Leroy placed a hand on his heart. “But the doubled amount is my final and only offer. I’m just trying to make a living here- I’m sure you boys can understand that.”

Tommy nodded while he perched a cigarette between his lips. “We’ll pay the original amount and a half.”

“Fuck, Tom.” Arthur removed the cap from his head and ran a hand ragged through his hair.

Leroy stroked his beard thoughtfully and then shook his head. “No. I’m only taking the doubled amount.”

“I won’t go any higher than what I just offered,” Tommy said.

“If that’s the case, then continuing this conversation for any longer is pointless.” Leroy furrowed his eyebrows together. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Tommy lit the cigarette, the flames of the match just barely touching his fingertips. “Consider our business over, then.” He dropped the match to the ground and stamped it out with his shoe.

“What a waste. I can’t believe you mingy folks won’t scrounge up a little extra for a horse of this caliber,” Leroy grumbled as he led the horse by the reins back into the stall. He jerked his head toward the front of the truck. “I should charge you for the coin I wasted on these two oafs in there. Useless.”

Tommy fought the smirk that quirked at the corners of his lips. The uncanny polished veneer of pleasantries was fading fast from the man’s persona. He was just another rat looking to make a few extra bucks on a black market horse. Sure, it was a nice horse, a beautiful horse, even, but certainly not worth the inflated price Leroy was preaching. It was stolen, too. He knew he should’ve been getting a better deal for that.

“I’m still willing to go over half of what we originally agreed on,” Tommy called to him.

“Let me think again,” Leroy tapped a finger to his lips. “And my final answer is,” He spat on the ground in front of them. “That.” He muttered a curse under his breath, and then spat on the ground again. “And that’s for your aunt, for sending me a fuck all deal.”

While the crassness of Leroy’s comments and actions were an irritation to Tommy, he knew what game he was trying to play. He was trying to get a rise out of them, he had those two men in the truck, after all. He didn’t get his deal (it truly was more of a scam), and now he was nipping at their ankles in a desperate attempt to get his payout.

Arthur, on the other hand, was sent into a spiral. He should’ve known that his brother was nothing but a ticking time-bomb at this point. He had been nursing his flask all morning long (he had to have been halfway drunk), and Leroy’s demeanor was the icing on the cake. The situation was flint, and Arthur was the tinder.

“Fuck.” Tommy and John said in unison.

Arthur knocked Leroy onto the ground and reached for his cap. In the same instance, the two men inside of the truck must have heard the ruckus and were taking rushed strides toward them, each with a crude shiv in hand.

While Leroy was trying to evade Arthur’s wrath, Tommy sensed an opportunity. The reins were no longer in Leroy’s hands, and instead, the horse was bucking and braying about, clearly spooked by the fighting.

Tommy lunged for the reins but was knocked onto his stomach by the wild thrashing of the horse’s head. For a moment, he managed to scramble on the ground and get a steady grip on the reins, but his efforts were futile, for the horse was too strong from that angle. His grip went slack, and the horse bolted out onto the field. Tommy watched as it galloped away, causing something crimson and furious to boil up inside of him.

By the end of it, panting and covered in sweat, Tommy could barely remember the details of what had just happened. It started with a horse, a sniveling old man, two hired thugs, Arthur’s rage, a horse that was now gone, and blood.

At some point, Leroy had managed to slither into the truck and drive away (Arthur tried chasing him down the road, much to John’s bemusement). His thugs, on the other hand, were curled up onto the ground, whimpering as they clutched their scarred and bleeding faces.

“At least that old loon got his money’s worth with these guys,” John commented wryly, spitting blood onto the ground. His lip was bloodied, and would certainly bloom into a dark bruise within the next few hours.

“We should’ve killed him and took the horse in the first fucking place.” Arthur took a long swig from his flask and wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

There was only one thing Tommy could say. “Fuck.”

The three of them were bruised, covered in blood and dirt, and the horse was gone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Polly sat them down and looked at their wounds in the parlor when they arrived back at the shop.

John had a split lip and a few cuts on his hands, while Arthur was more so just bruised and battered from a rolling tussle with one of the hired men. Tommy was sore, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the hit he took from the fucking horse, or the nasty slice he had gotten from one of the thugs on his forearm.

“It’s for the best,” Polly said while deftly cutting up a bandage. “Buying a horse in bad faith like that,” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Bad luck.”

“Bad luck,” John scoffed while splashing icy water onto his face. “How’d you even know this guy? He was a nutcase.”

“It’s been a long time. I never said he was a friend,” Polly rolled her eyes while she poured alcohol onto a rag. “I warned you that he was a scoundrel. The horse was stolen after all. Now let me see that lip.”

Their bickering became background noise in the back of Tommy’s head. It didn’t matter how anyone knew Leroy. They were one horse short, and his chest fucking hurt from that same fucking horse thrashing about amidst the chaos. But, he found a tinge of humor in the fact that they, of all people, were calling that man a scoundrel.

After an hour of sitting still with several bandages looped around his knuckles, he was getting antsy.

Tommy stood up and made his way toward the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” Arthur bellowed from the table. His face was red, and it wasn’t from the fighting- he was certainly drunk now.

“Bed.”

“Pol hasn’t looked at that cut on your arm yet."

“I’ll wrap a rag around it.” He ignored the rest of his brother’s slurred shouts and walked to his room.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Tommy’s ears wouldn’t stop ringing.

He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling, watching as the long shadows waned from afternoon to evening, to nightfall.

The red tendrils of rage continued to knead and claw at his gut. He needed horses for the races, and not just any horses. Good horses. That Appaloosa was going to be a good fucking horse. If he was going to have any chance at fixing the big races come springtime, he was going to need a lot of good fucking horses.

Hell, he was trying to build a fucking business here.

There was a moment where he almost reached for his pipe. His head-ached and his muscles were painfully sore. He was just about ready to cut his losses for the day, and call it a night. But then, he thought of something else.

Perhaps, he needed a drink first.

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He watched her sweep the floor of the pub from the window. Her back was to him, and she didn’t notice him until the front door slammed shut.

Anna flinched, almost dropping the broom onto the floor. “Christ,” she turned to him, her face softening in recognition. “Mr. Shelby, you frightened me-” she cut herself off, “Are you okay?”

He knew he looked like a proper mess, certainly felt like one too. He didn’t bother fully changing out of his clothes from earlier, either. Under his winter coat, he was wearing a cotton shirt that was stained with blood, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to make room for the bandages that covered his cuts. His trousers and shoes were caked with mud too- another lost cause.

“I’d like a drink,” Tommy waved her off as he took a seat at a random table and dropped his coat to the floor. He could see her hesitate, her eyes darting anxiously between him and the rack of booze behind the bar.

“The same as always?” She asked, her voice wavering only slightly.

“The very same.”

Anna propped the broom against the bar and quickly went to work on pouring his drink.

“Where’s Harry?”

“He had to step away early this evening,” She rounded the table with his glass and gingerly set it down in front of him.

“All by yourself again?”

She nodded.

When he reached for the drink, a sudden pain shot through the length of his arm, from fingertip to shoulder. It felt like a thousand tiny little nails pricking at his skin all at once. He glanced down at his forearm and saw that the makeshift bandage he had tied around the gash was soaked red, and was coming loose. “Shit.”

“Here, let me.” Anna sat beside him and took his arm in her hands, slowly unwrapping the bloodied rag. The slice on his forearm was nastier than he initially realized. It was red, hot, and angry. His hands were in poor shape too, a few cuts on the palm, and scratches on the knuckles. Not to mention the bruise he knew was forming on his chest. Her eyes flicked from his forearm to his eyes. “I’m going to get some water, I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the back room, and minutes later, came back with an iron pail and a clean rag over her shoulder.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” She stared at his face intently. “Or do you want me to stay?”

Truthfully, he was taken aback by the questions.

“You can stay.”

She gave a curt nod and took a seat next to him.

“Can I help?”

“Not much I can do with these hands.”

Anna smiled and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear.

Everything felt, quite suddenly, as though it was too sharply in focus. Tommy watched her while she rolled up the sleeve of his shirt up farther past his elbow, her movements deliberate and gentle. The first time she dabbed at the slice on his forearm, he winced. She noticed this, and each time after she touched it, she glanced at him cautiously, just to make sure it was okay.

Tommy decided that from that moment forward, she was a blue mystery. He wasn’t even sure what that fucking meant, but that’s what she was to him. A blue mystery. She could’ve materialized from the Queen’s fucking castle, for all he knew. But here she was, living alone in a dingy flat, and no one ever saw her other than this fucking place and her family. Her hair was always curled, and she did not speak much. Yes, he thought. She was a blue mystery.

He couldn’t tell if he was delirious or not. Perhaps it was from the lack of sleep and blood, but the light in the room made her hair look like a halo. A halo of red hair. He had to have been fucking delirious.

During his musings, he noticed that he had gotten blood on her blouse.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“Oh,” Anna glanced down at it and shook her head. “Don’t mind this old thing.”

He scoffed and turned away from her for a moment.

“You said you’re from a place called Eastcliff, right?”

“Ah,” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “You have a good memory.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well, it’s rather a long way from here, as you know.” She explained while softly gripping his forearm to keep it steady. “It’s right by the sea. Absolutely freezing in the winter, but pleasant in the summer. If you have a map handy, I could show you.”

The drawn-out words. Rather. Absolutely. Pleasant. It was all so painfully upper class.

“Do you like the ocean?”

“Yes,” She started grinning. “I love it in every season but the summer.”

“That seems a little backward.”

“I suppose it is. I hate the heat, and I always look like a lobster when I leave.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Does everyone in Eastcliff have that accent?”

She blinked, lips parting slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I can’t imagine everyone in a little seaside town sounds like they’ve come straight from the Queen’s drawing-room.” He meant it as an earnest jest, truly.

“Yes, well,” She squeezed the excess water from the rag and back into the bucket. “I went to a boarding school in London and spent the summers at home. In Eastcliff.”

His question seemed to stop Anna short, in a way that nothing else had so far that evening. Nothing else meant him, showing up to her place of work, covered in blood and mud. He really didn’t have much to say after that. She kept squeezing water from the rag until it went taut.

“How’s that cut on your forehead?”

Tommy tilted his head toward her and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even realize that there was a cut on his forehead.

Anna narrowed her eyes at him and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Let me.”

She leaned in close to him now, close enough that he could see the dusting of freckles on her face, the smell of her perfume, the graceful curve of her neck. While she dabbed at his forehead, she never looked at him directly. When their eyes would meet, Tommy noticed the slightest flush on her cheeks. How did she go from a little seaside town, to this fucking city?

“May I ask you something bluntly?”

“I think you’ve earned it.”

“What happened today?”

“A horse.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Must’ve been some horse.”

“It was.” He replied, his voice dreamy. “An Appaloosa.”

“Ah, a nice horse then.”

He blew air out of his nose. “Are you much for horses?”

“Truthfully?” A smile appeared on her lips, it was a real one, because it made her cheeks dimple. “No. I’m terrified of them, ever since one bit me as a little girl.”

“A shame.”

“A shame indeed. But I still think they are beautiful, for what it’s worth. I enjoy watching them, and attending a good race now and then.” Even her voice started to have a dreamy lilt to it. “Are you much for horses, Mr. Shelby?”

“Yes,” He answered with a smirk. “I’m much for horses.”

“Except for Appaloosas?”

“Perhaps.”

They sat in silence for a long while after that. He thought it was amicable, and pleasant enough. The only other noises between them were the sounds of a rag being torn in two, and water sloshing about in the iron pail. Tommy started speaking again when she finished tying a fresh bandage around his forearm.

“Do you need someone to walk you home?”

“Mr. Shelby, if I can be quite blunt- again,” She said with a grin. “If anyone needs someone to walk them home, it’s you.”

He shook his head with a scoff, lips forming a tight-line.

“It’s Tommy, by the way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name.”

“Tommy,” Anna repeated his name slowly, almost as if she was testing it out on her tongue.

“When it’s just us, call me Tommy.”

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Home Bound (Part 3)

Summary: Dean has finally moved out with Sam to Lawrence and is beginning to move on for himself when a chance coincidence changes everything for him...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, injury, mention of character death, mourning, supernatural events

A/N: Written entirely in Dean’s POV. Enjoy the final part!

______

Two Months Later

“Hey,” I said, popping into the kitchen in Lawrence to see Sam and Eileen both eating greasy breakfasts. “Hangover?”

Eileen nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, Sam giving me a careful look. We’d only moved out the week before and he was still watching my every move carefully.

“A bit. We got plenty of bacon left over,” said Sam.

“Nah. I’m gonna run into town and get some coffee, see if I can find out if any garages or construction crews are hiring,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours. Want me to pick up anything?” I asked. They shook their heads and I grabbed my keys from the front table. Sam stood up as I put on my jacket and I watched him from down the hall. “Yeah?”

“There’s a garage over on Henderson. Small place. They got an opening,” he said.

“I’ll check it out,” I said. “I’ll be back by lunch.”

Ten minutes later I was parked on a side street and walking along main, hands in my black winter coat Samson had shipped back to me. Sammy had been right on that front. Back when the leviathans were trouncing around with our faces on, his parents had shown him that was the Winchester boy apparently. He said his sister was doing good and he was planning to come out soon to get to know her again. They talked most days and she was staying with her parents, not too terribly far away. He had a sneaking suspicion that she’d snapped and killed the man that took her but the evidence pointed to a home intruder that had hit her on the head and that’s what was causing the memory loss.

I told him I’d look into it if he wanted but at the moment he was simply happy to have her safe again. And that I was keeping the coat.

At least I’d convinced him to let me buy him a drink when he did come out for a visit.

I tugged up my collar as a light snow filtered down on the March day and spotted the coffee shop that apparently had the best pie in town. God, I hadn’t had pie in months and I was so looking forward to bringing some home.

It was around nine so the morning rush was gone when I stepped inside, the little bell going off. A few people were eating pastries and sipping on drinks at the tables but there was no line and I walked right up to the counter, taking a look to find something called cinnamon death pie on the menu. Well that was definitely on the list.

“What can I get you?” asked the girl in the baseball cap, her back to me as she wiped up some spilled coffee from the back counter. The voice sounded so familiar and I stared at her, looking her over. She stood and turned around with a smile, my eyes wide. “Coffee? Baked good? It’s all fresh.”

“Y/N?” I said and she smiled again.

“That’s what my name tag says. Wow, you are really attractive,” she said. I kept staring and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was...what can I get you?”

“Dean. It’s Dean,” I said. She grabbed an empty cup and jotted down my name at the top, glancing at me. She looked happy and warm and she had no idea who I was. “Um. Black coffee. I’ll take a blueberry and cinnamon death pie to go too.”

“Full pies each?” she asked, marking off the cup.

“Yeah,” I said with a thick swallow.

“The death pie is the bomb. It’s so good on cold wet days like today,” she said. She put in the order and I watched her get my coffee together. Someone brought out two boxed pies in a bag and set it on the front counter. She brought back the coffee and hummed. “Alright. That’ll be fifteen dollars even.”

“Thanks,” I said, handing out the money. I stuffed a fifty in the tip jar and her jaw practically dropped.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Take it. Go to school. Buy a house. Go on vacation. Just...be happy,” I said. I grabbed my things and left, ducking out the front door. I skirted around to the alley and leaned against the brick. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” she said. She was standing there in her waist apron and a t shirt, getting soaked and goosebumps covering her arms.

“Just take the tip,” I said, trying to head down the alley when she caught up and grabbed my arm.

“Before...I thought you knew who I was. You know, the Whiltiston girl that was kidnapped,” she said.

“What?” I said.

“I know. But...you ever just meet someone and you just have a connection? Some part of you just knows that’s the one? I know I sound nuts but the way you looked at me back there...maybe you understand what I mean,” she said.

Shit. Fucking shit. Exactly what I wanted was right in front me. When I’d finally, finally, just started to have a glimmer of not feeling like crap all the time. My first day out and of course she’s there all happy with a real family and having no idea all the horrible things she’d been through. I’d have to push her away and fast.

“Lady. You’re nuts,” I said. She frowned and bit the inside of her cheek like she did when she was upset and didn’t want anyone to know.

“I know it sounds crazy but you sounded like you knew me or something. I don’t know. I just want to talk to you for five minutes. Please. I don’t remember a lot of stuff so well. I do but there’s all these gaps. It’s like I know you. I don’t but I do. Do you understand?”

Her shirt was soaked through now and she was shaking a bit. I’d have to be mean if I wanted her gone, wanted her to forget the fuck about me.

“No,” I said, stepping up and getting right in her face. “I think you’re crazy. I don’t blame you for whatever it was that you went through but that’s not how the real world is. You’re delusional and you need serious help.”

Her eyes watered a bit and she swallowed.

“I am not crazy. I have head trauma but I am sane. I don’t even show signs of PTSD that’s how little I remember of whatever was done to me. You’re just a cruel person who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are.”

“Fuck you,” I said. She glared at me and I knew I’d made a mistake. She was still upset but now she was pissed and for Y/N that meant no backing down. “Listen. I-”

She grabbed my collar and kissed me. Hard. After a split second it softened and she moved away, staring at me. I blinked and then she was pounding her fist against my chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! You were just gonna leave me here!” she said, hitting me a few times before she was kissing me again. She slid her hand down and rested her head against me, taking deep breaths. “Dean Winchester I could kick your ass right now.”

“You remember?” I asked. She nodded and looked at me. I squeezed her way too tight, hearing the gasp of air escape her as I picked her up. I set her down after a moment, shaking my head at her.

“How…” I said and she smiled.

“You know my evil parents? Apparently the witch that gave them those powers or taught them at least...she put a little curse on them. If they used their powers to harm a child and that child died before them, they’d die not too long after. A few months was all. When my old piece of shit father croaked, I came back very confused. We know that witch, De. Red head. Queen of Hell. We might be friends with her and she always was leery of people hurting kids I guess so Ro had my back I guess. I think she did magic so I wouldn’t say anything on accident to the cops.”

“So you’re okay?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m livid with you for nearly walking away from me but I’ll get over it,” she said. She shivered and I set the bag and coffee down on the ground, taking off my jacket and tugging it over her. “I like your coat.”

“Your brother gave it to me.”

“You know Sunny?” you asked. I cocked my head and she smiled. “Samson? We call him Sunny cause son.”

“Yeah. He picked me up when I woke up in the middle of Colorado. We never did quite figure out why I came back or why there.”

“It’s not a coincidence my brother was the one who happened to find you,” she said.

“No, I don’t think so either.”

“When did you come back?”

“January 8th, about midnight. I had a dislocated shoulder.”

“I dislocated my shoulder that night. I slipped on some ice when I was coming home from a late dinner with my parents. You know it took the fake dad two months to die after I had. January 8th was two months exactly after I came back.”

“You think I came back because you did?”

“I don’t know. Apparently I can still tell you’re my person even with no memories. It’s sounding more likely. We can always ask Rowenna.”

“Yes, dearie,” she said, suddenly beside us both. Y/N jumped into my side and I wrapped my arms around her. “Sorry. If I’d known...I’m a different witch now. You’re both fine. You could have called though Winchester and I would have cleared this up. Also, that smells delicious and I’m taking it.”

She bent down and took the pies before disappearing, Y/N starting to giggle.

“She took my pie!” I said.

“She did kind of bring us both back,” said Y/N. “Come on. I’ll get you some more.”

She grabbed my hand and walked me back inside, ducking behind the counter in the back. Ten minutes later she walked out with three pie boxes, her coat on and mine tucked under her arm.

“I told them I’m not feeling well,” she said, handing me the coat. I put it on and took the bag in one hand, using the other to take her hand. We walked down the street aways until we got back to Baby and she slid in the passenger seat. “There’s forks in the bag too.”

“Come here,” I said as I sat down behind the wheel, setting the bag in the back for the moment. I moved over and pulled her into my lap, brushing off a bit of melting snow from her cheek. “Don’t go away again.”

“You were ready to walk away not ten minutes ago.”

“Because I thought you’d be better off not knowing about everything you’d been through,” I said. She smiled, that soft little smile that always made me feel better.

“Some parts were bad. But it wasn’t all terrible. Some parts were really, really good,” she said. She kissed my cheek and bumped her nose to mine. “I’ll take it all if it means I get to love you again. I don’t want to ever forget that I love you, Dean.”

“Me either,” I said, holding onto her tight. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do now but you’re not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she said. She was quiet, tucking her face in my neck and I smiled for the first time in months. She was happy and safe and mine again. “Want to drive to the park and eat pie in the backseat like we used to on rainy days?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. That sounds like the best day ever. I’m so happy you came home to me.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

________

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #spn reader isnert #supernatural reader insert #dean x #spn fanfic #superantural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean series

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introvertguide · 3 years

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Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964); AFI #39

The most recent movie for the group to review was the Kubrick dark comedy, Dr. Strangelove (I am not writing out the whole title each time). This film has some of the most legitimately funny lines of bewilderment, with some occasions involving an actor playing across from himself. For most film goers, this will be Peter Seller’s most famous role since he plays three main characters, all with different accents, appearances, and quirks. The film was nominated for 4 Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Actor) but did not take home any trophies. The film did win best picture at the BAFTAs. This film was definitely in the style of Kubrick, but it was in a genre that I don’t believe he delved into again. I want to review the plot before discussing further, so let me get the usual out of the way:

SPOILER ALERT!!! I AM ABOUT TO GIVE AWAY THE WHOLE PLOT OF THE FILM!!! IF YOU WANT TO WATCH THE FILM ON YOUR OWN WITHOUT HAVING ANYTHING SPOILED, STOP NOW AND WATCH THE FILM!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

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At the start, we are introduced to United States Air Force Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) who is commander of Burpelson Air Force Base. This base houses a group of B-52 bombers armed with hydrogen bombs that are constantly in the air. The planes are constantly within two hours from their targets inside the USSR in case of nuclear war. General Ripper orders his executive officer, Group Captain Lionel Mandrake of the UK Royal Air Force (Peter Sellers), to put the base on alert and to issue "Wing Attack Plan R" to the patrolling bombers, one of which is commanded by Major T. J. "King" Kong (Slim Pickens). All of the aircraft commence an attack flight on the USSR, and set their radios to allow communications only through their CRM 114 discriminators, which was designed to accept only communications preceded by a secret three-letter code known only to General Ripper. Mandrake discovers that no attack order has been issued by the Pentagon and tries to stop Ripper, who locks them both in his office. Ripper tells Mandrake that he believes the Soviets have been fluoridating American water supplies to pollute the "precious bodily fluids" of Americans. Mandrake realizes Ripper has gone insane.

In the War Room at the Pentagon, General Buck Turgidson (George C Scott) briefs President Merkin Muffley (Peter Sellers again) and other officers about how "Plan R" enables a senior officer to launch a retaliatory nuclear attack on the Soviets if all superiors have been killed in a first strike on the United States. It would take two days to try every CRM code combination to issue the recall order, but the planes are due to reach their targets within hours. Muffley orders the U.S. Army to storm the base and arrest General Ripper. Turgidson then attempts to convince Muffley to let the attack continue, but Muffley refuses. Instead, he brings Soviet ambassador Alexei de Sadeski (Peter Bull) into the War Room to telephone Soviet Premier Dimitri Kissov on the "hotline". Muffley warns the Premier of the impending attack, and offers to reveal the positions of the bombers and their targets so that the Soviets can protect themselves.

After a heated discussion in Russian with the Premier, the ambassador informs President Muffley that the Soviet Union had created a doomsday machine as a nuclear deterrent; it consists of many buried bombs jacketed with "cobalt-thorium G", which are set to detonate automatically should any nuclear attack strike the country. Within two months after detonation, the cobalt-thorium G would encircle the planet in a radioactive shroud that would render the Earth's surface uninhabitable. The device cannot be deactivated, as it is programmed to explode if any such attempt is made. The President's wheelchair-bound scientific advisor, former Nazi German Dr. Strangelove (Peter Sellers one more time), points out that such a doomsday machine would only be an effective deterrent if everyone knew about it; Alexei replies that the Soviet Premier had planned to reveal its existence to the world the following week.

Meanwhile, U.S. Army troops arrive at Burpelson, and General Ripper commits suicide. Mandrake identifies Ripper's CRM code from his desk blotter and relays it to the Pentagon. Using the code, Strategic Air Command successfully recalls all of the bombers except Major Kong's, whose radio equipment has been damaged in a missile attack. The Soviets attempt to find it, but Kong has the bomber attack a closer target due to dwindling fuel. As the plane approaches the new target, a Soviet ICBM site, the crew is unable to open the damaged bomb bay doors. Kong enters the bay and repairs the broken electrical wiring while sitting on a H-bomb, whereupon the doors open and the bomb is dropped. Kong joyfully straddles the bomb as it falls and detonates over the target.

Back in the War Room, Dr. Strangelove recommends that the President gather several hundred thousand people to live in deep underground mines where the radiation will not penetrate. He suggests a 10:1 female-to-male ratio for a breeding program to repopulate the Earth once the radiation has subsided. Worried that the Soviets will do the same, Turgidson warns about a "mineshaft gap" while Alexei secretly photographs the war room. Dr. Strangelove declares he has a plan, but then rises from his wheelchair and announces "Mein Führer, I can walk!" as the Doomsday Machine activates. The film ends with a montage of many nuclear explosions, accompanied by Vera Lynn's rendition of the song "We'll Meet Again".

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This is a pretty weird film, but it has some of the funniest lines in cinema. Discussions of not letting a Russian envoy into the war room because he will “see the big board,” the president announcing there is no fighting in the war room, a crazy general constantly talking about a plot to steal American bodily fluids, and a discussion about how the high ranking officials and generals would be hidden in shelters with a 10-1 ratio of hot women to men with the expectation of constant impregnation which everybody suddenly favors: it is all absurd. But I really love it and laugh every time I watch.

The three roles of Peter Sellers is especially noteworthy, as all of his characters are so different. He plays a very British foreign exchange officer (I am not sure this exists), an absolutely whacky former Nazi scientist, and the straight man of the film in the form of the US president. Since Dr. Strangelove was an advisor to the president, there were many scenes in which Peter Sellers was acting across from a stunt shoulder or the back of a head that was supposed to be him. He did a fantastic job of making light of total world destruction during the cold war.

One very notable thing about the acting of Peter Sellers was that he had a couple of ad libs during the movie. Stanley Kubrick is not a director that particularly cares if he gets along with his actors, often times demanding dozens of takes for even the simplest of background scenes. Long dialogue scenes are repeated over and over to the point that many actors did not want to work with Kubrick. And still, the director seemed to like Sellers quite a bit and kept a couple of the takes that were ad-libbed, specifically for the character of Dr. Strangelove. Perhaps the crazy former Nazi character was so unpredictable that random whacky outbursts (like the scream for “Mein Fuhrer” at the end) seemed appropriate.

A little side note is that this was the first film appearance of James Earl Jones as one of the bombardiers on the B-52. He was known for his work in the theatre at the time, so of course he had a bit part in which he was mostly covered in a flight suit and said very little. Now that is a misuse of talent.

A point about the movie that I was unaware but was pointed out by a follower of the group was that the promotional material for the film shows that the plane was named “Leper Colony” (thank you @themightyfoo). This implies that this group was actually a bunch of screw ups, which is part of the overall joke that this group was given access to world ending bombing capabilities. Maybe it was assumed that the order to drop the bombs would never be given and this group was just given this detail to get them out of the way.

So does this movie belong on the AFI list? Yes, but maybe not ranked so high. It has a lot of name recognition, but I think that is more due to the very distinct naming and the titular role. Maybe the notoriety is also due to the subject matter and the time it was released. It is a fine film with great acting, but I find it hard to put above Jaws, Rocky, or Taxi Driver. I guess that is more my humble opinion, but I agree the list would be lacking without this film. So would I recommend it? Absolutely. It is an interesting story about how red tape allowed one high ranking individual to literally destroy the world. And it is a joke. It is such a well told story that they had to put a disclaimer at the front. A great lesson, even today.

#dr. strangelove #stanley kubrick #top 100 #movies #black and white #nuclear war #cold war #dark comedy #peter sellers #george c. scott #introvert #introverts

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

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Bonus from Human Relations (Jello Salad, NASA, and Epic Jon Bitchery)

Short little thing thumped out in an hour last night. I was challenged to write a genuine argument and Elias eating Jello Salad. I succeeded in one of those things.

TW for discussions of, as you can probably expect, 1950s racism and maladaptive relationships

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

The name must have been familiar, carrying its own power - honestly, a peerage, man was annoying every time - because a waiter appeared from nowhere very quickly to take Jon’s hat, coat, and briefcase. Jon took the opportunity to straighten his fine suit and tie, and glance around the room.

Part of him couldn’t help but be proud: barely four years ago, it would have been impossible to step foot inside the finest restaurant in Washington, DC. Senators dined on these tables, creating backroom deals and manufacturing methods of state and politics, and Jon had been forced to rely on some creative means to work himself into those deals. These days, it was as simple as walking in through the front door. Of course, the entire room was staring at him extremely pointedly, but that was what the peerage, money, and reputation was for. Jon never much cared if people disliked him - he tended to only concern himself with people who could do something about it.

Everyone of import in Congress knew Jonathan Sims. A whisper on the wind, a knife in the dark: that had been Jon, always. It still was. But now, people looked at him with respect. Everyone did.

Everyone except, of course, the young man sitting at the pristinely white table that the waiter lead him to. Utterly unrecognized, but dimly familiar in the way that the endless parade of Jonah’s bodies always was: a thin, emancipated type of look, in his early twenties, with a thin but healthy comb of blonde hair and light muscle that would soon go unattended under Jonah’s careful attention. Hilariously, he was still short - would that man ever find a body over five feet seven?

Jonah smiled as Jon and the waiter approached, waving aside the waiter’s silent question of if it was really Jon that he had been waiting for. Honestly, the more things changed.

“Jonathan,” Jonah said warmly, “how long has it been?”

“Too long to say in polite company,” Jon said lightly, shaking his hand tightly. He was waiting for public hugs between men to go back in style. He missed it, slightly. “You look...different.”

Of course, Jonah noticeably preened. “I think this one has a nice, strong jaw, don’t you?”

“It’s...the jaw that the English peerage is famous for,” Jon said tactfully, sitting down on a delicate and fine chair. “What brings you to DC, Jonah? Normally you can’t be pried away from London with a crowbar.”

Jonah gleamed a bright white smile at him. “Can’t a man miss his close business partner after so long apart?”

“That would imply you’re capable of human emotion.”

“True, my mistake.”

The waiter appeared, and Jonah ordered something carelessly expensive and good wine as Jonathan carefully ordered a very refined and dignified cut of filet mignon. The wait on the food was short, of course, and Jon and Jonah wasted time by chatting about their business ventures. Jon’s was going extremely well, obviously. Jonah’s was extremely boring and slow, obviously.

“This industry boom is incredible. The technological innovation, the jump forward in progress, the persistent fear that it will all be taken away the minute we step out of the conformist line…” Jon picked up his fork as the plates of steaming and small portions were slid onto their table. “Mark my words, Jonah. 1953 will be our year.”

“My good man,” Jonah said sympathetically, “it’s well into 1957.”

“Years should be longer. Simon agrees with me.” Jon frowned, picking up a fork and cutting into his meat . “We’re investing in Simon and his projects, by the way.”

Jonah smiled over the rim of his wine glass, raising a delicate blonde eyebrow at Jon. “Wonderful of you to make these decisions for us.”

“When you insist on spending all of your time in the crude and backward England, I shall do as I please,” Jon said haughtily, only to see Jonah snicker into his glass. “I’ve been working with him to push his little initiative through Congress.”

“How quickly the prodigal son shuns his motherland.” Jonah ate slowly, never once looking away from Jon. He had never forgotten that tendency of Jonah - to keep his eyes always, always on Jon, as if keeping an eye on a dangerous predator. But in that hooded, dark gaze, a half-smile always tugged at his lips. In his better moments it seemed like fond indulgence; in his worse it appeared closer to a child watching his kitten chase a dangling piece of string. “A decade or two in the land of tomorrow and you’ve adopted a new home country?”

“It is a land of progress,” Jon hissed, jabbing at Jonah with his fork. “England is stagnant, putting on airs of civility and progress when it does little more than languish in its former greatness. Look what happened with the mess in India. What do we have left? A few impoverished African territories? Yemen? We have lost all ambition. The English still fancy themselves the greatest population in the world, when they’re little more than a bombed out shell. At least America had the decency to profit off war.”

“War is fairly pointless if there’s no profit in it,” Jonah agreed mildly. He sipped his wine again delicately. “So you figure that space is the next frontier, then?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is always in our best interest,” Jon said primly. “I was skeptical too, Jonah. But I met this lovely young engineer, a Ms. Johnson, and she’s opened my eyes. NASA is the future, and NASA is here. Only habit keeps you in England, now.”

For the first time, Jonah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A respect for history is far from a habit, Jonathan. Have some respect.”

“Your history, not mine. And you’re ancient history too,” Jon pointed out. He calmly ate his filet as Jonah sputtered. “Admit it. You’d walk around in the cravat you were buried in if you could.”

“The cravat is dignified. It’s hardly my fault if young men these days flaunt themselves in those dirty blue jeans.” Jonah sneered the word with marked disdain. “I can see their calves.”

Despite himself, Jon smiled into his filet. “Did it give you a case of the vapors?”

Jonah reversed his grip on his fork and held it casually within stabbing distance of Jon’s hand. “Do not get us kicked out of this establishment.”

“Were you forced to recline on your fainting couch with your smelling salts?”

“I have propiety,” Jonah hissed. Hilariously, his new body had the tendency to flush a little, and his ears were noticeably red. For the first time, Jon wished that he owned one of those camera things. “At least I don’t while away my hours with your harlot of a girl.”

Almost immediately, Jonah seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and Jon was distantly aware that his neon green eyes had taken on a dangerous tint. Jonah leaned back a little from where they both had been unconsciously leaning in, and Jon carefully readied his grip on his steak knife. “Watch how you speak of my wife.”

“Wife?” Jonah crossed his arms, tone dripping with condescension. “When did you marry that gold digger?”

“Thirty years ago,” Jon ground out, and Jonah blanched. “You were there.”

“Ah.” Jonah paused a beat. “Well, you know how time gets away from us.”

“You were my best man.”

“Maybe we can Christmas together!” Jonah said, faux-brightly. “Christmas has become quite popular lately. I can buy her one of those dishwasher things suburban women are always losing their minds in Macy’s about.”

“We have people for that,” Jon said condescendingly. “And we don’t live together, anyway. She’s experiencing the beatnik lifestyle with that little gang she runs around with. I think they write novels.”

Jonah stared at him blankly. “What is a beatnik?”

“I believe they’re similar to bohemians? I don’t understand either.” Jon wiped his mouth with the napkin again, having cleared his plate. He replaced his napkin, carefully keeping the grip on his knife. On the other end of the table, Jonah’s grip on his fork was just as tight. “She expressed no desire to be a politician’s wife, and I have no expectation of her being so.” Jonah snorted - quietly, subtly, but visibly. Jon narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re always a gas, Jon.” Jonah’s own plate cleared, he flagged a waiter to take their plates away and refill their wine. “A politician’s wife.”

“I am a politician,” Jon said testily.

“Mm-hm.”

“I pushed a large bill limiting freedom of speech just last month.”

“Of course.”

“I’m close, personal friends with Senator McCarthy.” Jon’s grip tightened on his knife until the wood bore into his palm. “Even if it’s in no - no official capacity, I’m making a real impact here. My service to ou - God has been extraordinary. Unlike you.”

There it was - a hit scored, a gauntlet thrown. Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Yes, because doing your job and collecting records for the Institute is a waste of time that has no relevance to God. As opposed to what, Jonathan? Wearing fine suits and putting on your own airs?”

Bright, sparking irritation flashed through Jon’s chest, but it was laced with something more. A hard defensiveness, bared teeth, curling up to prevent a weak belly. “I’m allowed the fine suits, Jonah! I am allowed to have this!”

“They’re just suits, Jon,” Jonah said condescendingly, eyes a mirror of false pity. Always pity, always false, always pretending he was weak, or - or -

“I have fought for everything, and -”

“Oh, not this drivel again.” Jonah wiped his hands on a linen napkin and balled it up, throwing it on the table and leaning back. “Yes, yes, you suffered, whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You’re so boring. Maybe it’s the nature of Archivists to be incredibly dull. My new man, Angus...whatever, he’s unbearably bland.” A glint of humor shone through his casual airs. “We’d benefit from you.”

“Oh, here it is again,” Jon said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He threw his hands up. “Every time, you harangue me, tell me my work is meaningless, and try to drag me back to your boring and tepid old library -”

“Who are you fooling, Jonathan?” Jonah retorted, also perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nobody but yourself, and you know it! You aren’t a politician. You aren’t anything.” At Jon’s deranged look, Jonah quickly backtracked. “You aren’t anything without God. Everything you have is because of it.” It was something that couldn’t be argued, and Jon huffed out a breath as he untensed. Jonah smiled faintly, lowering his hands as if he was placating Jon. “Not to say that you aren’t doing any good. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. But aren’t you more interested in being where you can do the most good? In being in the place of your highest productivity, your most effective worship? I understand America is...new, but it’s a dalliance. An infatuation. Which is more meaningful, Jonathan? A summer fling with an attractive woman, or a faithful wife who maintains your home and heart?”

Jon squinted at Jonah. “Georgie doesn’t like maintaining homes.”

“I do not understand your relationship with that woman. She hasn’t even given you any children, for lord’s sake.”

They were both incapable - how could an Avatar of the End give life? - but it was another tasteless thing to say, so Jon glared Jonah into submission over it again. For all Jon constantly heard praise over how impressive and charismatic and charming Jonah was, he was insufferably rude and tactless in reality. “Neither of us are very much in the business of allowing society to tell us how to live our lives. Society will pass, age, and die before we do. Why bow to it?” Jon smiled coyly. “Why bow to anything that ages?”

“You’re lucky you’re useful, you slimy little -”

But Jon just laughed, because he had won: Jonah had raised his voice in righteous anger that echoed across the suddenly deathly quiet restaurant, and the maitre’d was walking towards them very quickly. Jon laughed even longer as the waiter spoke in smooth, ubiquitous, but firm tones to Jonah: do try not to cause a disturbance with your companion, sir, this is a respectable establishment -

“As respectable as you when you cheated on your wife with the housekeeper?” Jonah snarled, and the maitre’d blanched. “Get out of my sight. Don’t come back unless you’re bringing us a plate of Jello salad.”

Jon laughed harder as Jonah sat back down, huffy and embarrassed. His ears were red again - how quaint. Jon had the feeling he’d grow to enjoy this James Wright body - as much as anybody could enjoy Jonah, of course. “Jello salad? Is that the nasty preserved food you people are all eating?”

“It’s modern cuisine,” Jonah said stiffly. “It’s quite good. Aren’t you the one who’s so fervent in preaching the gospel of modernism?”

“Not if it comes in Cool Whip and bologna, I don’t.” Jon pulled a mock sympathetic face. “You ought to be more careful, Jonah. It’s worth keeping an eye on your health. I heard that bologna helps promote aging.”

“I will spear you with this fork and cook you over a fire,” Jonah said pleasantly.

“My, are you balding so soon -”

In the end, they were thrown out anyway. It was for the best, anyway: Jon had no intention of eating that suburban trash.

That day was the last he ever saw of James Wright. It was the last he saw of Jonah Magnus, too - at least, until he received a phone call in 2015 saying that Gertrude Robinson was dead, and that he was required home to select a new Head Archivist.

It stood to reason that Jon wasn’t really necessary for the process. He had no part in choosing that woman Archivist - why would he be necessary for the next one?

“I am beginning to think,” Jonah said over the phone, voice strange and uncanny with Jonah’s familiar cadence in a reedy and light voice, “that I am incapable of appointing controllable Archivists. Every one you’ve picked has been blissfully, wonderfully boring, and the ones that I pick defy me, ruin my plans, and try to kill me. Get back here and choose one yourself.”

“But Jonah,” Jon had said, delighted, “you choose me as your Archivist.”

“I said what I said. Get back here, now. Please.”

And that, in the end, was what brought Jon home: the fact that Jonah hadn’t cajoled, manipulated, or tricked. It was the fact that he had asked. Had said please.

He had never said please to Jon before.

But maybe it was pointless anyway: Sasha James was no more malleable than her predecessor had been.

#georgie shows up as a beautiful but aloof woman in On the Road who won't sleep with sal because she's too beautiful and free #i'm trying to reconcile here 'jon & jonah like each other and are family'#with 'jonah has a paternalistic and controlling attitude where he just thinks jon should spend all of his time working for him #and when he inevitably wants independence and freedom they fight #still working on it!#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #my writing #human relations #jonathan sims #jonah magnus #*breakdances* literally every relationship in HR was controlling and manipulative and I have feelings about this

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auroralwriting · 4 years

Text

Three Months

Request: Would you be willing to write of how Hiddleston would react to hearing he got the reader unintentionally pregnant?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Pregnant! Reader

Warnings: Angsty if you squint, total fluff tho

Masterlist

Staring down at the white stick in your hands, your heart drops to the floor boards as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Two lines. Two red little lines, clear as day.

You’re pregnant.

It wasn’t like you and Tom were trying, you two weren’t even married yet. You sighed as you realized you’d have to buy a new wedding dress, one to fit the baby bump that was soon to come.

Your fiancé and you had gotten engaged a few months ago in a quiet little setting one night after Tom had prepared a romantic dinner in your kitchen for the two of you. Yes, you had done it prior, but you were always so careful. You always had protection. But, as the box says, it doesn’t work all the time.

You felt like Rachel from FRIENDS. Of course, your Ross per say was your soon to be husband, but you didn’t know how Tom would react. And you were scared, too. How do you even be a mother? Is there a handbook or something?

The knob on the front door rattled, shaking you from your state of panic. You quickly threw the test under the sink and into the cabinet. You couldn’t tell him now, you weren’t ready. Maybe in a week or so after the thought settled in.

“Darling, I’m home!” Tom called out from the living room. You heard the thump of his bag he took from his trailer to the apartment hit the floor.

“Hi, baby. How was filming?” you asked as Tom embraced you into a warm hug. You weren’t an actor, but you knew a few tricks Tom had taught you over the last few years. Enough to keep him from being suspicious until that bump appeared.

Tom sighed. “Good, good. I just missed you. Wish you could’ve been on set today.”

“I know, Tom, but I had work. You’re not the only one who gets a pay.” you chuckled. “I have dinner ready. Come eat with me?”

“Of course, love. Give me a few minutes to change.” Tom nodded as you pulled back from his arms.

Over the next three and a half months, you ad kept your little secret hidden from Tom. Somehow, you were still terrified to tell him. It seemed like as the days went on, you got more frightened.

You had a small bump going on, but wearing loose clothing and sweatshirts helped a lot. You’d even managed to get Tom to change the position in which you cuddled at night, claiming him spooning you got too hot. You had to wonder if he was suspicious, but he never seemed to give any thought to the idea. Maybe he actually had no clue, maybe you still had some time to gather your thoughts.

Tom, on the other hand, really didn’t have a clue. He suspected nothing. Yes, you did seem off, but nothing too much. It could be anything, but it wasn’t anything too concerning. So, when you went to the store, he decided to give you a little spa day at home. Tom understood work stress, that’s what he was convinced it was.

As he looked around the bathroom, grabbing bath bombs, cute little candles with your favorite scents, he was missing one thing: soap bars.

The cabinet doors opened as Tom stuck his head in, searching for the small bar of bubbles. As he went to grab the bar, something else caught his eye. Tom grabbed it, eyebrows furrowing as he turned it over. He almost passed out when he saw what it was. A pregnancy test that was positive.

Was it yours? It had to be, who else’s would it be? But it was positive. How long ago had you taken this?

Suddenly, it all made sense in his mind. The turning away, loose clothing, it was because you were getting a baby bump. Tom put the test behind the soap dispenser as he put the soap bar under the water, allowing it to let bubbles fill the top of the water. He lit the candles and threw in the bath bomb, allowing the water to turn into a light lavender color that was still clear. He dimmed the lights to allow the candles to take over as light.

Tom shit the door to the bathroom, sitting on the couch and turning on the tv to whatever channel popped up first. He only had to wait fifteen minutes before you opened the door, your formal jacket falling to the floor.

“It’s too hot in the office.” you said, slipping off your heels and flopping down next to Tom. “I’m gonna file a complaint. It’s gotta be, like, eighty degrees.”

Tom chucked as he grabbed your hands. “Luckily for you, I have a surprise waiting in the bathroom.”

You cocked your head to the side as Tom motioned to the bathroom. You stood up, walking over and opening the door. You gasped as your eyes watered. It was perfect. You didn’t know why you were about to cry, must be the hormones.

“Tommy, it’s so amazing. I love you, thank you.” Tom smiled lovingly as you went to slip off your clothes. Wait. If you did, Tom would see the bump. “Uh,” you stuttered. “I forgot that I have to run a very important errand.”

“Love--”

“If I don’t I’m sure my boss will fire me.”

“Darling--”

“And I don’t want to leave the money situation all up to you.”

“Y/n!”

Tom’s voice shook you out of your babbling haze. “Yes?” you replied as innocently as you could muster.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.” He noticed. He noticed the act you had put up. It was game over. “I’m worried for you, you haven’t been acting normal for the last few weeks. Is everything alright, my love?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, hesitating on what to say next. “Well, uh, my uncle’s dog died. And I’ve known that dog for a long time now.” you lied, hoping you were as good as an actor as Tom.

“What was his name?” Tom asked, concern laced into his voice. Maybe you did fool him.

“Cosmo.” you replied.

“Which uncle?”

Shit. You weren’t read for that. “Uncle Felix. You know, my dad’s brother. The one with the black beard even though he has red hair.” you said.

“Baby, Felix doesn’t own a dog. He’s allergic, remember?” Tom asked. Well, it seems you didn’t fool him. You sighed, blinking your eyes closed for a second and accepting defeat. “Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

Your eyes shot open as you looked to Tom in a panic. “Am I what?” you questioned hurriedly. “Am I pregnant?”

Tom grabbed the test from behind the soap, looking at it, then to you. “Are you?” he whispered softly.

“I’m so sorry.” you shook your head. “I should have told you, I’m just so scared. So, so scared.” your voice shook as Tom set the test down on the counter top, embracing you into a hug.

“Don’t apologize, darling. It’s alright. And don’t be scared, please. We can do this together, okay? We can be nervous, but scared isn’t something we should be. Plus, it won’t be too good for the baby.” Tom chuckled, pulling back and putting a hand on your stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Three months or so.” you replied.

Tom stared at your belly. “Can I see?”

You nodded, pulling the loose blouse over your head. Tom’s eyes got watery as he stared at the tiny bump that held your child. His hands slowly ran across the area, making sure no inch of skin was left untouched. He leaned down and pressed a kiss above your belly button, trailing kisses back up to your lips.

“I bet it’s a girl.” Tom smiled. “Imagine how beautiful she’d be.”

“But if it were a boy, imagine how handsome he’s be. Getting all the ladies.” you and Tom laughed as he looked to the water.

“Let’s not let the water get cold. Can I join you?”

You nodded as you and Tom slipped out of your clothes, sliding into the tub. Now, all you had to do was wait six more months before you found out what the gender of your baby would be. And that made you more excited than anything.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston one shots #tom hiddleston imagines #marvel actors #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction

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