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deathskid · 2 years

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SELF DEFENSE

why would you need pepper spray, when toji can show you how to defend yourself .. amongst other things?

➠ self defense teacher!toji x reader

➠ wc: 4.7k

➠ cw: unprotected sex, fingering, pussy slapping, praise kink, mating press, mirror sex, choking, orgasm control, brief mention of masturbation, groping

➠ click here to join my taglist!

MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI.

from the minute you stepped into his studio, you realized this was a mistake. you were new to the city. you recognized you needed a better means of defending yourself besides the pink can of pepper spray that dangled from your keychain. but you began wondering if you were better off with the expired aerosol rather than attending toji fushiguro’s self-defense classes.

there was no point in denying your interest in the raven haired man. setting eyes upon him, you saw why everybody gushed about his lessons.

on your first day in his studio, he commended you for how quick of a learner you were, but you rolled your eyes at his played out praises. his seductive demeanor was nothing shy of agitating. he flirted with every woman in the class, groping them with the excuse of “realistic measures”. their incessant giggling and skimpy clothing worked your last nerve, especially because toji entertained it.

however, as the weeks passed, you noticed that slight tingling in between your legs becoming more difficult to overlook. at first, you thought you were losing it, denying the tension brewing between the two of you. his sleazy passes at you and subtle sexual quips shot straight to your core, the arousal now impossible to ignore.

his praises started affecting you more and more. every time he called you “good girl”, your mind drifted to lewd places. you tried to swat away the obscene thoughts, but his crotch rubbing against your ass during drills didn’t help. it seemed as if he paid extra attention to you with each session.

when he corrected your form, you faltered as his palms lingered on your frame a few seconds longer than they should have. your breath hitched and heart skipped whenever he touched you.

you began wearing less to his classes. instead of leggings and an oversized tee, you started sporting short spandex and ultra thin tank tops. you convinced yourself it was only because you got hot in the studio, not because you wanted toji to notice your frame.

you weren’t totally sure why you were so hyperaware of the throbbing sensation in between your legs now, but everything toji did drove you closer to the brink.

whenever he spoke, you’d rub your thighs together, wondering how alluring his moans would sound while he’s stretching you out. the way he’d come behind you and whisper instructions in your ear made you wonder what kind of obscenities he’d whisper to you while shoving two fingers inside of you.

and his fingers. those thick and calloused digits that you always gawked at. it didn’t matter if he was just pointing across the room or touching you. you wanted them knuckle deep inside of your cunt, pumping in and out of your wet heat. you wanted to cum all over them and watch him lick your juices up.

if you showed up early to class, you’d be able to catch a glimpse of him changing his shirt in the back. god, you felt like a perv watching him through the cracked open door, but you couldn’t help yourself. you watched him remove his hoodie from his body, tossing it on the ground and replacing it with a thin t-shirt. your mouth watered as he revealed his godly pecs and abs, the light reflecting off of the thin sheen of sweat covering his body. and if you were lucky enough, his sweats would hang just a little bit lower on his hips, revealing his sharply cut v line and happy trail.

by the time class actually started, your panties were drenched just thinking about him and undressing him in your mind. it was embarrassing how much you anticipated him correcting your form. just to feel his hands burning into your flesh, his touch lingering on your skin long after he’d moved on.

when you got home, you’d throw your things down and immediately start working your cunt, furiously rubbing your clit and stuffing your fingers inside while you thought about him. he occupied your head almost every minute of every day. even at work, thinking about how his hand squeezed your waist when you got a counter right had you sprinting to the bathroom to get yourself off.

eventually, your fingers weren’t enough. you needed him inside of you. when he took water breaks, the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every sip had your mind hazy. the way he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt. the way he made direct eye contact with you and spread his legs when he sat down. you felt dirty looking at his crotch, but his bulge was massive and hard to ignore, and you couldn’t even imagine what his print looked like if he was hard.

there were times when he caught you staring. your cheeks heated up with embarrassment, but he only grinned and chuckled to himself. he knew how flustered he made you. he knew what you daydreamed about during class. that’s why he’d go out of his way to check on you and use you for class demonstrations.

he’d bring you up to the front of the class and grope your body. he’d touch you in every way possible while he pretended to be an assaulter, letting you demonstrate your counters on him. it took everything in you not to drop down on your knees and suck him off in front of everyone. hours after class ended, you swore you still felt his hands roaming and squeezing your body.

and that one time he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder ignited something inside you. he did it so effortlessly, like you weighed next to nothing. your arousal was so strong, you thought he could smell the lust and desire oozing from your hole.

whenever he talked, you barely registered anything because you wouldn’t look anywhere other than those plump lips and that damned scar. you only thought about how good his lips would feel sucking on your clit and ravishing your sweet cunt. how he would kiss every area of your body and worship your skin with his tongue.

and his back. his wide and muscular back on display whenever he turned around. you saw the way his shirt clung to his body and outlined his muscles, imagining clawing his back while he fucked you. scratching your nails up and down as he pounded into your tight walls, hissing at the welts forming due to your clawing. all you wanted was to feel him stretching you out like no one else. to feel his hands exploring your body and learning its ins and outs.

“y/n? you payin’ attention?” toji’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. you blinked before realizing what was going on. the man stood in front of you with his arms crossed as you woke up from your trance. you glanced around the studio to see everyone stretching out in a child’s pose. you stammered and nodded, slumping to the ground and getting in the position.

but when toji came behind you to correct your form, you essentially freaked out and shoved him aside the instant his hands clutched your hips. you already suffered the embarrassment of zoning out thinking about him, but his hands on your body was the last thing you needed when trying to refocus. today was your breaking point.

“i don’t need your help to stretch out some fucking muscle, okay? i can do it on my own.” you snapped, being sure to keep quiet so only he could hear. your temper confused toji. you were normally mild-mannered and compliant during sessions. he wasn’t sure why you were so testy all of a sudden.

“relax, sweetheart. just tryna help you. spread those legs,” he said before walking away. your brain distorted the seemingly innocent remark. you knew what he meant, but erotic images of him plagued your mind. the thought of him spreading your legs open as he took off your panties, embedded in your head.

for the rest of the lesson, you kept interaction with him to a minimum, hoping to subdue the tension. he noticed how out of it you were. you were unfocused and blanking on things you should’ve known. he wasn’t sure what had gotten into you.

after class ended, you were gathering your belongings when toji instructed you to stay back for a while. your hands became clammy at his request, heart pumping rapidly because of how nervous you were.

“what’s going on with you today, y/n? your counters are all over the place and you aren’t focused.” he sighed, cleaning up the studio as he spoke. you huffed, leaning against the mirrored wall and crossing your arms.

“it’s fine, i’m just having an off day. i’ll be good by friday.” you replied, kicking at a torn piece of the mat.

“sweetheart, there are no ‘off days’ when you have to defend yourself. c’mere. you’re not leaving until you get this right, understood?” the added bass in his voice caused you to stand up straight, knowing he would not ask you again. you nodded and shuffled to the middle where toji stood.

you peered up at him as he hovered over you, his massive and bulky frame nearly blocking the fluorescent lighting of the studio. his black shirt clung to his chest, sweat decorating his collar and beading his forehead. you found yourself staring, internally berating yourself for finding such a sleazeball like him handsome. he was clearly teaching these classes to get pussy, not because he cared about the safety of women.

“we’ll start simple, alright? i come at you with a bear hug. what’s the first thing you do?”

“um, stomp on your foot and move my hips so i can hit your groin.”

“good girl. now, show me.” toji appeared behind you and secured his arms around you, pressing his chest against your back. he was so close, you felt his breath fanning your neck. it took everything in you to keep your composure, your ass brushing against his bulge as he got into position.

you inhaled and began your fight, grunting and kicking your legs in the air to escape his hold. his grip on you didn’t budge as you struggled to stomp on his foot, the studio filling with the sounds of his grunts and your heavy breathing.

“i know this ain’t all you got, c’mon.” your feeble attempts at escaping his attack bored toji. you became more frustrated with each passing second that he still held you. the irritation bubbled over until you eventually stomped on his foot, taking the opportunity and gently elbowing his groin. you exhaled and plopped down on the mat, not being able to celebrate the slight victory because you knew you were better than this, and toji did too.

“i know what you’re gonna say, so keep it to yourself. it shouldn’t have been that hard. i’ve countered trickier attacks, blah blah blah. i fucking know.” you waved him off, grabbing a sip of your water. toji chuckled and squatted next to you, emerald eyes boring into yours.

“so if you know, why couldn’t you do it?” he cocked his head to the side.

“oh my god, i don’t know. actually, i’m just gonna leave. i’ll be back friday, and i’ll have time to reset and practice.” as you stood up, he caught your wrist and pulled you down to the floor. you swallowed and glanced over at him.

“nah, lay down.you can do one more. if you counter this, you can go home. if not, you’ll stay for another thirty minutes until you get it right.” he pointed towards the mat, gesturing for you to lie down on your back. you rolled your eyes and complied, laying back with annoyance etched all over your face as he crawled on top of you.

“don’t look at me like that, fix your face. all i’m doing is helping you stay safe.” you resisted the urge to punch him, only because he was right. he didn’t have to help you at all. he should’ve let you walk out, knowing you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself properly. but he stayed until you got it right.

“i’m choking you, what’s the first thing you do?” his large fingers wrapped around your throat, being gentle enough so he wasn’t cutting off your air. even still, your breath hitched as he did so, arousal pooling in your core as you darted your eyes to the ground, hoping he didn’t sense your sudden shift in energy. you withstood the attraction before, but now that he was so close to you with his hand on your neck, the pulsing between your thighs became insufferable. your heart pounded against your chest, thudding loud enough for toji to hear as your mouth went dry. you became incapable of forming sentences as erotic images engulfed your mind.

“i- um… it’s…” you faltered off, lifting your arms to make a move.

“i know you didn’t forget. it’s the first thing i ever taught you, you can counter it.”

“what if i don’t want to?” you murmured under your breath, praying he didn’t hear. but he did. he heard you loud and clear. a smirk appeared on his face as he looked down at your flustered state, your hands settling on his forearm. he tugged you closer to him with his hand still resting around your neck. you gasped, finally lifting your eyes up to find his.

“don’t tell me you like it when i manhandle you like this.” toji cooed, fingers pressing the sides of your throat. you shook your head, trying to deny the obvious.

“n-no, i didn’t mean that.” you recanted, but the way you rubbed your thighs together told him otherwise. you only meant to say it in your head, not out loud.

“hm. maybe we should try a different approach.” toji leaned down closer to you, his face mere centimeters away from yours, the tips of your noses barely rubbing together. “maybe i need to fuck the lessons into you. don’t you agree?” rendered speechless, you whimpered and nodded, unable to peel your eyes from the scar decorating his lip.

toji crashed his lips onto yours, holding your chest against his as you arched into his touch. the two of you moved in sync with each other, his tongue lazily pushing its way inside of your mouth and swirling around yours. his free hand traveled down your body, grabbing and gripping at your flesh to see what makes you tick. when he reached your hips, a light sigh slipped from your mouth as he squeezed the plush skin. you gasped, moving back to tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. the air was heavy as you pulled away from the passionate kiss, your chest heaving as you caught your breath.

he pressed his mouth to your jaw, trailing wet kisses down to your neck and sucking on it. his hand traveled to your scalp, tugging your head to the side for better access as his pillow soft lips continued their attack. a string of curses fell from your mouth as you found yourself grinding down on his thigh, your cunt aching and needing more. after toji realized how needy you were becoming, he gripped your hips and slid you back and forth, your pussy dampening the fabric of his sweats through your spandex.

“toji, fuck,” you purred. he smirked into your neck, satisfied with your adorable reactions. toji sat up and pulled you into his lap. he took a moment to relish in your beauty before turning you around and holding your back to his chest. forcing your eyes to meet your reflection in the mirrored wall, he swiped his thumb across your bottom lip.

“look at how pretty you are.” he held your hands behind you with one of his, the other dipping beneath the waistband of your spandex shorts and underneath your panties.

“so fucking wet, baby. all for me too?” his finger teased your clit, moving up and down your folds to collect your arousal and circling the swollen nub.

“yes, tojiiii.” you drew out, nodding and bucking your hips into his fingers. he hummed to himself before pressing his thick digits at your entrance, gradually driving two into your warmth. your mouth gaped open, squeezing your eyes shut as your head fell on his shoulder. his digits moved in and out of you with leisure, making sure you felt him scissoring in and out of your cunt. you wanted nothing more than to grab hold of toji, but with your hands still held behind your back, you only sunk your nails into your palms.

“and look how easy my fingers go in.” toji was in awe of how wet you were for him, your tight cunt squelching around him as he pried you open. he pulled your tank top down, uncovering your braless tits to his gaze. “no bra either? it’s like you wanted this all along.” he snickered, caressing your breasts and rolling a nipple in with his free hand. his fingers curved up inside of you, massaging your g-spot as you moaned out his name.

“more, need more,” you sighed.

“if you can manage to free your hands, i’ll let you cum on my dick, sweetheart. you still have to learn your lesson, yeah?” he buzzed in your ear, his fingers moving faster than before.

“i c-can’t.” you stammered, your cunt squeezing his digits and sucking them in.

“aw, so you don’t want me to fuck this pretty little pussy?” you saw stars as he continuously assaulted your g-spot, struggling to pry your hands from his grip. he sneered, looking at your body in the mirror and watching you writhe as you continued your attempts to slip away. “that’s it. you can do it.” he coached, placing chaste kisses on your collarbone.

“open your eyes, look in the fucking mirror. i want you to see what i see.” he whispered. against your better judgement, you opened your eyes and fixated on your disheveled and vulnerable state. your breathing became more erratic as toji held your gaze through the mirror. embarrassment washed over. you looked crazy, squirming in his hold while he fingered you. you had dreamed of this moment, but now that it was actually happening, you felt small. you shook your head, fixing your eyes back shut.

“i don’t like it.” you mumbled in between moans, but that just pissed toji off. you thought he didn’t hear you, but he did. he was waiting for the right time to show you something different.

unbeknownst to you, he was slowly relaxing his restraint just for you to wriggle free. he didn’t want to be cruel and use his full strength on you—not when he needed to have your precious cunt wrapped around his cock.

miraculously, you slipped through his grip and freed your hands, immediately moving to lace them through his hair as his thumb pressed to your clit. he rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves, whispering praises in your ear and telling you how proud he was.

“i knew you could do it. i know how badly you want me inside of you,” he said. “but first…” he trailed off and grabbed you by your neck, removing his hand from your shorts.

“look in the mirror and say you’re beautiful.” he demanded, his chest heaving from irritation. he couldn’t believe you’d brought yourself to say you didn’t like what you saw in the reflection. you whined and shook your head, but your response earned a slap to your cunt. “say it, baby. you see how pretty you look all desperate for my cock?”

“i’m beautiful.” you murmured half-heartedly, but toji knew you didn’t believe it.

“you can do a lot better than that. try again.” another slap. you yelped and wiggled in his hold, tears decorating your cheeks.

“i look so p-pretty like this.” you sniffled, licking your lips as he soothed the stinging by rubbing your cunt through your shorts.

“yeah? one more time.” his hand rubbed faster, your clit brushing against the fabric sending you into a frenzy.

“‘m so pretty, fuck! toji, fuck me, please.” you cried out, that familiar maddening sensation creeping up on you. he halted his movements, pulling your shorts down and off of you. he gawked at your glistening cunt in the mirror, spreading your lips apart as your arousal oozed onto the mat below.

“so fucking beautiful.” toji took off his shirt and tossed it aside, twirling you around on his lap to face him. your hands roamed up and down his chiseled chest before moving down to tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“please,” you muttered, “need it.” he groaned inwardly at your soft plea, your doe eyes sending him into a frenzy.

“i can’t say no to that pretty face.” you leaned in to ravage his lips once more, tasting the pure hunger in his mouth. he wrapped his arms around you, gently laying you on your back as you draped your legs around his waist.

toji started grinding his bulge against your cunt. he reached in between your bodies and tugged down his sweats and boxers, his heavy cock drooping down and slapping his thigh. your mouth watered at his erection leaking with pre-cum as you anxiously grabbed his length and stroked it in your dainty hands, your fingers barely fitting around his sheer girth. you were so impatient; it was laughable. so eager for him to bury himself inside of your cunt, you guided the tip to your entrance, sliding it up and down your wet folds.

toji sank inside of your heat, both of you gasping at the same time at the tension finally snapping. he folded your knees to your chest to put you in a mating press as he bottomed out, his cockhead sitting snuggly against your cervix.

“so deep, oh fuck.” you whimpered, your eyes crossing as he dragged his cock along your plushy walls. he was splitting you in half, every inch of him plunging in and out of you was practically unbearable. you nibbled on your bottom lip, your cunt twitching as he started pounding into you.

“such a good fucking girl, sucking me in like that.” he admired, jerking his hips forward. your whining like music to ears, goading him on to keep his pace.

you thought the air was being knocked from your lungs with each ravenous thrust, his cock driving into you with no remorse. he cursed at how stunning you looked underneath him, your tits bouncing up and down and eyes swelling with tears. your swollen lips parted slightly as choked out moans and whimpers fell from them.

“feels s’good.” you cried, your fingers clutching his biceps as he fucked into you. “h-harder, please.”

toji didn’t hesitate to obey your request, brushing against that spongy patch in your walls as he rammed into you.

“you’re so greedy, baby. this—hah—this what you wanted? needed me to hit that spot right here?” he groaned, his cock mercilessly pounding into your g-spot. your jaw dropped as you looked up into his eyes that were covered by his hair. you didn’t have the strength to make any actual noise, only pathetic whimpers as you nodded.

“toji, pleasepleaseplease.” you begged, your fingers whipping in between the two of you for you to rub your clit, desperate to cum.

“didn’t i teach you about stamina, baby? you can hold it, can’t you?” toji smirked, looking down at his cock disappearing inside of you. you shook your head, whimpering as you crumbled under the pressure.

“hold it for me and i’ll let you get on top. that sound good? fuck, baby, this pussy is too fucking good.” toji grunted, lowering his face closer to yours as he wrapped a hand around your throat. reluctantly, you agreed, fighting the urge to squirm underneath his weight with each snap of his hips.

drool dribbled out of your mouth as you chanted his name like a prayer, staving off the orgasm that slowly tried pushing its way out of you. he basked in your sweet moans, coaxing him on to deepen his strokes as he watched how hard you tried holding it in for him—you were adorable.

“baby, you’re doing so good f’me, shit.” toji squeezed his eyes shut as his cock pulsed inside of you. your eyebrows knitted together as you mewled, moving your hands to play with your breasts.

“look at me, who’s a good fuckin’ girl?” he squeezed the sides of your throat as you opened your eyes.

“i-i am!” you cried out, gasping and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“who did good today, baby? hm?” his mouth found yours for a few seconds before he pulled back to let you respond.

“i did!” your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you wailed.

“tell me you’re a good girl.” his rhythm began to falter, cock throbbing inside of you as he pushed through. he fought his urge to cum inside of you, moaning out your name while your cunt gripped his cock.

“i’m a good fucking girl,” you said breathlessly. he moved his hand to squish your cheeks together and spit onto your tongue. you moaned and swallowed his saliva, sticking your tongue out to show him.

“fuck, i cant take it anymore. come on and sit on this dick.” he hissed, pulling his length out of your soaking wet cunt. he fought to push through, but imagining you on top of him and riding his cock wore his patience thin.

he rolled onto his back and grabbed your body so you could straddle his lap. after taking a moment to steady yourself, you gripped the base of his cock. you let a line of spit fall from your mouth to the tip, slowly stroking him before hovering over his erection.

you sunk down on his cock, taking your time as you held the base and mounted him. he seemed a lot bigger than before, splitting you in half as you took him to the head.

“there we fucking go.” he hissed, smacking your ass. a shiver ran down your spine as he twitched inside of you, even the slightest movement becoming too much.

“i can’t take it. too big.” you pouted, tears streaming down your face at the intrusion.

“don’t cry, baby. you can take all of it. i’ll help you, yeah? like this.” toji pulled you flush to his chest, gripping your ass as he moved you up and down. he started slow until you found a rhythm that worked for you, watching your cunt leave white cream all over his cock.

“good fucking girl. just like that.” he praised in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck. you moaned out, working your hips up and down on his cock as he guided you. the burning sensation slowly subsided and immense pleasure and bliss replaced it.

“so full.” you whispered

the way his tip pushed against your cervix had your cunt contracting. you were clenching around his length, a sign of how close you were, your choked out cries and moans reciting his name echoing through the studio.

“need to cum, f-fuck.” you wailed, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“already? cum all on this dick, baby.” he groaned, squeezing you tighter and holding you into place as he thrusted up into you. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pressure that had been building in between your legs boiling over suddenly. your body seized as you gushed all over toji’s cock and lower abdomen. he fucked you through your climax while high-pitched moans and cries fell from your lips. you chanted his name like a prayer as your poor cunt spasmed from the stimulation.

toji held you close as his own orgasm neared. right before his climax, he slipped out of your wet heat and painted your stomach white with his seed, cursing with each spurt of his thick cum dribbling out. he looked down at your blissed out face, grinning.

“i’ll let you rest for now. but when i see you friday, those counters better have improved. i don’t wanna have to punish you.” you sucked your teeth at his threat, lazily rolling your head to the side.

“punish me? whatever.” you quietly giggled, brushing him off.

“i would hate to have to stay after every class with you, drilling those counters into that pretty little head…“ he paused, grinning and grabbing your chin to face him again, “or maybe a few more rounds tonight will help.”

#jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk toji #jjk x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji zenin x reader

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elysianslove · 4 years

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secrets that you keep; iwaizumi hajime

synopsis; in which his best friend is secretly a camgirl. part 1, part 2

pairings; iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre; smut

trigger warnings; i highly recommend reading the first two parts before this. they’re only drabbles that introduce everything! anyways, this is absolute filth. don’t read this if any of the stuff mentioned could trigger you, please! masturbation, camgirl stuff, one mention of the word ‘daddy,’ self choking, degradation, humiliation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, a lot of choking, accidental breathplay, not proofread unfortunately

she knows.

does she?

it’s an ongoing inner battle he’s been having for weeks now, ever since he’d been directed to that trending video of yours. he sees you in his dreams, hears you loud and clear, moaning and crying for him, and worst of all, he feels you, so perfectly, against his, around him, and it’s overwhelming in the worst way possible. even maintaining eye contact is tiresome at this point.

but he does wonder whether you know or not, more often than he should— were you deliberately calling out for him, in hopes that he’d find this video somehow? or had you said it because you’d assumed this is your safe place, that there’s no way he’d be able to find these videos? had it been a slip up? or, more accurately, multiple slip ups? what were the chances anyways, that it had been an accident, or unintentional, or intentional and he had been losing sleep over it, or that he wasn’t the hajime you were crying out for?

his heard hurt. awfully. there’s already the constant worry of regulating his breathing around you and cleansing his thoughts of anything he’d seen of you the moment you meet, but this added dilemma is in no way helping. every day that you text him for a coffee date, or a night out after a rather stressful week, or a night in at your apartment, and he agrees, his mind diverts immediately to where it shouldn’t as soon as he lays eyes on you. and the worst part of it all is how aware he is of how wrong this is. he knows it’s wrong to choose the revealing shirt over the other when you ask him for his opinion, just because he wants that effortless glance at your cleavage. it’s also so wrong of him to give a higher rating to that obscenely short dress than that other, knee length one because of the way your thighs squeeze when you sit. it’s definitely wrong of him to offer clasping your anklet, the one he’d gotten for you, the one that had been the dead giveaway to your secret online persona, just because your legs feel so soft against the rough pads of his fingers, when he resists the urge to trail upwards, upwards, upwards—

it’s fucking ridiculous.

he can’t believe just how deep of a rabbit hole finding one of your videos is, how it’s impossible to climb out and away, and even worse, how he keeps falling deeper. the one time he decides to jerk off to porn. it’s really ridiculous.

about a week ago, three weeks after finding that video of yours someone had uploaded— which had been taken down because of copyright, and hajime personally thinks that’s fair, considering there’s a reason you pay people to watch your videos and look through your photos, otherwise you would’ve taken the liberty to post everything for free yourself— hajime gives in, and subscribes to you. it’s with a randomized account name, something he tried his very best to make as anonymous as possible, so that it would in no way lead back to him. he doesn’t check in on your account as often, also having taken the time to turn off notifications and not have anything sent to his email, and it’s mostly out of shame. he already feels dirty enough having seen this much of you, even more that he’s fantasized about you. he’s not about to make it worse for himself.

every once in a while, though, especially days where he’s sure he’s completely free of responsibilities, he logs on, and finds your page. it just so happens that tonight, you’re hosting a live stream. swallowing his pride and shame, literally so, he shifts on his bed, sitting up straighter, and clicks to join.

he’d been a little late apparently, because you’re already bare, sitting on a chair. your legs are lifted up, knees bent and hooked over the chair’s arms, the camera angled to show everything, from your cute eyes to the flesh of your ass. there’s a vibrator in your hand, buzzing lightly as it hovers by your clit, dipping between your folds, sliding back up again to rub lazily at your clit. beneath you, on the chair, is a small damp spot, leaking from your cunt. hajime stops himself before his jaw falls slack at the sight of you, and instead, he clears his throat, gritting his teeth and watching carefully.

you’re not so talkative during your videos, just exclamations of pleasure and (the most beautiful of) noises, so he hadn’t expected you to be during your lives. to his surprise, you are, and it’s filthy.

whimpering lightly, you press the vibrator harsher on your clit, your other hand traveling up to squeeze at your breast. “m’so needy,” you admit with a soft pout, adding, “want you to tell me what to do, mmh.”

he’s assuming the ‘you’ is the audience, whoever’s willing to speak up, and it’s then that he notices the chat option. his eyes flicker curiously to it, hands twitching where they sit fisted at his lap as he sees the chat explode with orders and commands and suggestions for you.

one writes, stuff urself full, and hajime gapes.

another commands, wanna see u cry tn, and hajime privately agrees.

someone else writes, gonna squirt princess?

hajime’s hands twitch again, and he frowns, digging his nails into his palms. you’re ignoring all the suggestions, and it’s obvious because you’re reading through them, mouthing some of them, giggling at some, curiously gasping, ‘oh,’ at others, eyebrow quirking. the vibrator trails down to your hole again, and you experimentally dip it inside slightly, shivering visibly as the vibrations rush through you, and the moment he hears you moan so loud, he thinks, fuck it, and his hands reach for his keyboard.

choke yourself.

fuck, fuck, fuck, he did not just do that.

his heart is racing embarrassingly fast beneath his ribcage, loud and pathetically deafening in his ears as he watches your eyes read through the rest of the messages, and you’ve stopped mouthing them, your eyes are widening— which one are you at now? are you just going to ignore him? why wouldn’t you? of course you—

“you’d like that, huh?” you teasingly slur, a lazy, cheeky grin painting your lips, your teeth biting down on your lower lip and your hand— your hand—

it’s trailing upwards, upwards, upwards, until it finds its way around your throat, resting lightly, and just as he sees your fingers squeeze at the sides of your neck slightly, carefully, you pout at the camera, looking straight at him, and asking, “like this, daddy?”

a low fuck wheezes past his lungs, and his hand quickly presses down at the bulge in his sweatpants, squeezing and rubbing at his clothed dick as he watches you, entranced. people watching you with him have taken to thanking him for the idea, and to praising you, calling you a good girl, cursing, rapidly typing out something along the lines of you’re so hot i wanna fuck you so bad, and god, hajime hates that he relates to something as stupid as that.

your hips roll and your head falls back, hand not once leaving your throat. if anything, your grip tightens. you click on the vibrator, and the buzzing becomes louder, your moans with it, as if you were competing. you cry and gasp and sob, writhing in your own hold, your thighs tensing and your hole clenching around nothing as you harshly rub the vibrator against your clit. your cunt gushes and drips as you bring yourself closer to your orgasm, as you cry out a string of, “m’gonna cum, so close, so close!” and a mixture of lewd curses, until finally, you cum. you’re sent over the edge, legs swinging on the chair, high pitched squeals falling from your lips— which hajime can’t decide are real or not, or whether he wants them to be or not. you thrash and cry, tears, as promised to some other watcher, dripping down your cheeks.

the last straw however, is your comedown from your high, sobs hiccuping and muscles twitching, eyes half closed and body limp as you mewl out, “hajime, hajime, hajime,” like you’re not even aware you’re doing it. like it’s subconscious.

hajime swears again, a deep, low, “fuck,” and looks down to find a damp spot on his lap. he really came from barely any friction, all because of you. this really is as ridiculous as it gets.

the next time he sees you, there are the faintest of bruises on your neck. it’s not so obvious that just anyone would notice, but ever since becoming hyperaware of everything that is you and everything that you do, it’s hard not to have them be the first thing he sees. to ensure that the atmosphere between the two of you remains easy, he flicks at your neck and tuts with a smirk, asking you jokingly if you were in your hoe phase.

“so vulgar, hajime,” you sarcastically retort, teasing him. “you like calling me mean things?” and he has to avert eye contact because all his walls crumble so quick.

it’s just the two of you tonight, in his apartment, all your other mutual friends having cancelled at one point or another. it’s not an unusual occurrence; more often than not, the two of you are alone. however, it’s been a while since you’d been alone, privately. a while meaning ever since hajime had discovered your side hustle of a sort. he hadn’t been purposely avoiding this— no, maybe he has, but to be fair, he’s still yet to recover from the initial shock.

it also doesn’t help that since today had meant to be a relaxing night in, you’re dressed casual, but in the hottest fucking way possible. he hopes he hadn’t been blushing as hard as he thinks, and feels, he was, when you’d first stepped into his home. on your hips is a short, black skirt, flowing out to your upper thighs, where just above your knees start a pair of dark thigh highs, squeezing at your thighs and accentuating your legs as you strut around his apartment, feet bare of any shoes or slippers. he can’t decide whether it’s cute or just plain hot. somehow, with you, it’s both. your shirt is off the shoulder, a dark, navy blue bardot, and beneath it, peeking out to rest at your collarbones, is a black bralette. he can barely just see the intricate lace designs, but it disappears and dips beneath your shirt before he can see more of it.

you’re spread out on the couch, laying along it on your stomach, a pillow tucked in your arms and beneath your head, your clothed legs bent and swinging up in the air. he sits right by you, thigh right by your head, his body as tense as ever. it’s impossible not to be you, not with you in such close proximity to him when only a few days ago he’d watched you make yourself cum, and had heard you whimper out his name after. who can blame him, really?

with your eyes trained on the screen, he hadn’t been expecting you to speak up.

“iwa, what type of porn do you watch?”

he nearly chokes, eyes widening as he spares you a glance. your legs continue to swing innocently, your eyes unmoving, your voice unwavering. the suddenness of the question certainly threw him off, but it’s your nonchalance that really shocks him. but, considering everything, it really shouldn’t have.

“uh, what?” he offers weakly, wincing slightly at the barely there crack in his voice.

you sigh, shifting to sit up. you plant yourself on your knees, spreading them apart slightly to get comfortable, and shrugging at him. “i’m just curious,” you say. “or,” your eyes squint cautiously, your head cocking to the side slightly, “do you not watch porn?”

challengingly, his arms lift up to cross at his chest, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes momentarily glance at the way his biceps bulge. it makes his confidence spike slightly, nervousness ebbing away. “what type of porn do you watch?”

you gasp dramatically, joking, “take a girl out to dinner first, my god.” he laughs, relaxing lightly at the banter, before his eyes fall back to you. you inch forward curiously, cautiously, still on your knees. now closer to him, you ask again, “seriously, i’m really curious! confirm my suspicions for me.”

“oh?” he quirks an eyebrow. “so you think you know?”

at this, you offer him a knowing smile, eyes slightly half lidded. you’re somehow even closer now, leaning towards him with your hands resting on the small space between you and him in the couch, helping you in lifting yourself up slightly on your knees as you say in a low voice, “baby, i think everyone knows.”

at the sight of you by his side, he feels himself shiver, and an idea invades his mind before he can even process it. “oh, do you now?” he’s not sure where this boldness is emerging from, especially with how cautious and shameful he’d been and felt for weeks now, but he accepts it either way, because the way you’re staring at him like that, he never wants to let it go. and although he wants to drag out this intense eye contact even longer, in order to do what he wants to do, he has to break it, reaching for his phone instead. unable to contain your curiosity, you peak over, watching with confusion as he types out a link.

the blood drains from your face when you recognize your page on his browser, and he’s logged on— he’s subscribed.

“what type of porn do i like to watch?” he wonders rhetorically. the phone is pushed aside, and he sits up straighter so that even on your knees, he looms over you. his eyes are skimming over you, along your body, up to your neck, to your lips, to your shocked, wide eyes. and just as his hand trails up to your throat, his palm resting at the base and one finger tapping lightly, he says, “the type where my favorite girl cries out my name when she cums for the world to see.”

the hand around your throat—

“you,” you breathe out, and finally, finally, when your brain makes sense of everything, your body relaxes, sags against him, leaning more into him until his hand’s properly wrapped around your throat.

with your mind hazing over, you reach over, and kiss him.

he meets you halfway, as if having expected it, lips pressing harshly against his. his hand tightens as he pulls you closer, lifting you up slightly and bringing you closer to him as his mouth parts, breathing you in, and kissing you deeper, lewder. you shiver and gasp, hands grasping at his wrist and forearm, not to push him away but rather to urge him closer, as you kiss him back just as eagerly. it seems like hours, with his hand around your neck, tight and a daunting reassurance, and your lips wet and hot against his, but eventually, his hand slides down, the other mirroring it, finding their way to your waist, squeezing and bunching at the skirt as he, with complete and utter and shocking ease, lifts you up off the couch.

you gasp as he stands up with you, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he pulls you to him. as he blindly walks the two of you to his bedroom, he breathlessly asks in between your kisses, “is this— you sure this is okay?”

with a sharp tug at his hair, you jokingly spit out, “iwa shut up.”

he tosses you onto the bed, allowing you a minute to strip yourself of your shirt while he slips out of his own, before quickly falling above you, caging you in with his arms as he kisses you again. “not iwa,” he quietly asks of you.

for a moment you’re confused, before everything clicks again— your slip ups— and your legs lift up, wrapping around his waist and pulling his hips closer to yours just as you mewl out, “hajime, please.”

god, he is way easier than he thought he was.

his entire body shudders above you, one hand lowering to push at your skirt to grind his hips down against yours until his clothed crotch meets your bare cunt and— holy fuck, holy fuck.

“fuck, you slut.”

you gasp at both his words and the feel of his bulge pressing down against your clit, his lips meeting your neck instead. “you do like calling me mean things,” you say, and he scoffs, his hand traveling upwards to squeeze at your breasts instead.

“you like me calling you mean things,” he notes, and you let out a muffled moan as he pinches at your nipples through the bralette, lips biting and sucking at your neck.

“i do,” you pant, arching up into him. “i do, i do.” his hands are fumbling at your chest, and god, they’re so large, so big and warm and harsh, it’s fogging up your brain.

“yeah, yeah, fucking whore,” he growls, pushing himself slightly on his knees, hands tugging at the bralette. his fingers dip past, gripping the fabric tightly, and as he says, “can’t fucking— take this shit— off,” he tears through it, knuckles whitening as he pulls it away from your body, or what’s left of it. the frills of the ruined bra fall off the edge of his bed, and he watches your wide eyes and gaping mouth follow it, so he grabs at your jaw, twisting your gaze away from it and grunting a low, “shut up.”

you pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily as you say, “that was so fucking hot, hajime,” before kissing him again. he parts his mouth as you lead him to you again, tongue easily meeting yours.

it’s a messy kiss as he slips himself out of his sweatpants, taking his boxers with it and discarding them somewhere in his room. his cock slaps against his stomach, a single string of precum messily staining his tan abs. your eyes are quick to gaze down, lips painted a dazzling grin as his hand finds his cock, squeezing at the head and smearing his precum along.

“knew you were fucking big,” you gasp, eyes trained on him as he strokes himself above you, and he is. he’s so big, thick and heavy, and veiny and your mouth waters at how that’s going to feel when inside of you, stretching you out so good, so much better than any of the toys you had at home. “i thought,” a squeal hiccups out of you as both of his hands grab at your hips from beneath your skirt, one sticky and warmer than the other, “about you all the time.”

your confession draws his attention, and when he’s pulled you close enough, two of his fingers trail to your cunt, quirking an, “oh?” just as he dips his fingers inside. the lack of resistance he’s met with is surprising, and he chokes out, “did you stretch yourself out before coming here? fuck yourself on some fake cock?”

tightlipped, you moan, brows furrowed and back arched into him. god, his fingers were not enough. “yes, yes,” you gasp, head falling back. despite not needing to, he still fingers you, his thick digits fucking into you slowly, driving you insane by the second. “yes, i— pretended t’was you,” you whine loudly. at your words, he curls his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist and pressing his palm directly on your clit.

“do you always?” he lowly asks, dipping closer to you as he fucks his fingers deeper. his fingers were inside of you, the cunt he’d spent over a month marveling at through a screen, the pretty pussy his dick had drooled over for hours. you’re real, as real as ever beneath him falling apart, making a mess of your black skirt, drenching it with your arousal.

you moan out a hum, nodding dumbly as his fingers vibrate with the intensity of speed inside of you, your toes curling in your thigh highs and face twisting to press into his mattress. “always,” you cry out, like a promise. “always think of you— hajime!”

it’s an unexpected orgasm, hitting you so fast and quick that it’s outright dizzying. it has you lifting your hips up into his fingers and palm, grinding and trembling, your legs falling and spreading open, shaking wildly by your side and above you as he fucks you through the orgasm.

“hajime, hajime, hajime,” you chant, words trailing off into tiny sobs and shuddering breaths as your hips slowly fall back onto the bed, body still trembling with aftershocks.

you’re fucked out beyond words already that you genuinely don’t feel a thing until he’s pressing inside of you, the fat head of his cock stretching you out. he’s really no match for your toys, and if seeing him hadn’t been enough confirmation, the feel of him pressing inside of you definitely is. he doesn’t ease himself in slowly, urgently grabbing the back of your thighs with either hand, keeping your legs spread for him as he bottoms out.

“fuck, fuck, knew you’d feel so good,” he grunts, brows furrowed harshly as he digs his fingers deeper against the flesh of your thighs, forcing your legs closer to your chest, and somehow pushing himself even deeper within you. you whine and mewl, toes curling and uncurling and legs trembling. “knew it the moment i saw your pretty pussy creamin’ around that thick cock.”

at the reminder that he’s watched and witnessed you, multiple times, that he’s subscribed to you willingly and curiously, you clench down around him. you feel him twitch inside of you, groaning loudly as he falls closer to you, your legs falling to his waist.

“you like knowing i was watching you?” he sneers, his hand reaching up and gripping at your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing a pout on your lips. your eyes nearly fucking cross as he rams into you, his fingers digging into your jaw. “you like that i fucked my fist every night to you? to your pretty cunt and your pretty noises and your pretty face— yes, good girl, that one.”

your eyes do cross this time, spurred on by his words, your tongue peaking out through the small gap he allows with how harsh he’s gripping your face. he’s pushing out little mewls and cries from you, but otherwise, you quite honestly feel braindead.

“fuck, you’re a gorgeous little slut,” he gasps. “all mine to fuck and use.”

you’re quick to nod rapidly, whining and moaning for him as you grip at his biceps. you’re choking on your breath as you struggle to keep up with him while he fucks you into the mattress, so fucking hard and rough that you’re sure there’ll be an indentation of you once you leave. you can feel your cunt gushing, and you can hear it too, squelching loudly with every thrust of his hips, every time his cock fucks into you. your skirt feels sticky and gross, and so does the rest of you, but you’ve never, never, felt this euphoric, this blissed out.

your stomach tightens impossibly, the tension gradually increasing as your walls tightly squeeze and clench at his cock. slowly and surely, the pressure within you increases, your hands flying to hajime’s arm, the arm whose hand grips your face, which quickly moves to your throat at your simple gasping warning that you were close.

“gonna cum, gonna cum, hajime, fuck!”

he tightens his grip, pressing harsher on the sides of your neck as your eyes shut tightly, your head falling back once more.

“yeah, come on, show me how pretty you look cumming on a real cock,” he whispers by your ear, using the hand that’s around your throat to lift up your head, before roughly pushing it back down, squeezing tighter. “you like it this rough?— shit, shit, you’re tightening.”

you scream, voice cracking and broken as he slams into you again, his hips grinding against yours momentarily, pelvis hitting your clit— and you’re gone, thrashing in his hold, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob and heave, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him, hips shaking as your orgasm rocks through you. it’s not a few seconds later that he’s spilling inside of you, accidentally pressing his palm down against your throat as he cums, blocking your airway momentarily.

“hngh,” he gasps deeply, cock twitching inside of you as he cums, hips barely grinding. you’re gasping, a little painfully, struggling to take in any air as he blinks dazedly, before he finally takes notice. “shit, shit, i’m sorry.”

his hand flies away from your throat, and you inhale sharply, coughing lightly as air fills your lungs all too suddenly. the strength of this man, holy fuck.

“i’m so sorry; are you okay?”

chest still heaving, you fall onto the bed, body relaxing as you try and regulate your breathing. “s’okay, i’m okay,” you reassure him, hands reaching up to pat at his cheeks and comb through his messy, sweaty hair.

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and it’s so endearing that you nearly forget he’s still inside of you. but you feel the shift of his cock, feel his cum slowly start to ooze out of your cunt, and he winces from the oversensitivity, shifting away to instead pull out of you. his soft cock falls from your cunt, a steady flow of his cum following. hajime has to physically resist from reaching out to fuck it back into you.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t careful ‘nough with the—“ he makes a gesture with his hands around his neck, “—the choking.”

you laugh lightly, tiredly, hands slowly caressing at his sweaty biceps. “stop apologizing,” you reassure him again, shrugging with a small smile as you add, “just be more careful next time.”

his breath gets caught in his chest, and he only softly exhales when he falls on the bed, to your side, carefully repeating, “next time.”

from beside him, you lift yourself up on your side on your elbow, palm cradling your head, trying your best not to wince in pain. “hajime?”

he spares you a glance as he mumbles, “hm?” opting to stare at the ceiling and contemplate whether what had just happened was real life or not.

“do you wanna do a video with me?”

he all but chokes.

end note; please this took me like 4+ hours. please please please don’t flop, and more importantly, i really hope i don’t disappoint. i know this has been a long awaited piece, so i’m praying and hoping you guys love it.

love you all, mwah <3

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut

2K notes · View notes

sheloooveswomen · 2 years

Text

new nurse - ellie staple x reader

masterlist

summary: in the company nurse’s office?! oh me oh my. you have to go for your yearly health exam for work. i know ellie isn't this type of doctor but oh well. i watched an actual exam on youtube for this.

includes: ellie x fem!reader, thoughts are italicized, all in reader’s POV.

warnings: nsfw/smut. i’m trying to get better at it.

i don’t really like this one but again i say: oh well.

3,700 words

Y/N POV//

There's no doubt I'm looking at the new nurse... It’s certainly not the view I expected.

Leaning over her desk, she sorts through papers. Her pose bringing up the hem of her white uniform to draw attention to long legs clad in white tights.

fucking hell.

I quickly close my eyes to try and delete what I just saw and thought from my brain. Seems I should've been worrying about the examiner instead of the examination.

great. cool cool cool.

Clearly the new company nurse is nothing like the old one. Martha was a slim woman in her mid 60s that would tell stories about her grandkids and what the company was like before I was even born. She had comforting Meryl Streep energy. Not the energy of a redhead in heels that would make me twist my ankle.

I should turn and run very very fast, but I can't because I'd like to remain employed. But I would very much not like to embarrass myself in front of- oh lovely she sees me now.

With a smile she waves me into her office.

Of course the rest of her is stunning.

"Hi, sorry- I wasn't sure if I should knock or- I'm—"

"Y/n L/n?" she finishes.

"Right" I force a smile.

"I'm Dr.Staple, but Ellie is fine. Just let me finish looking over your file and we can go right through to the examination room."

The last thing I needed was for her to return to her previous position to read the file, but she did.

Wow look at that ceiling and these posters are so very interesting, educational, one might say.

Once again clearing my head of the sight is impossible.

“I’ve been turning over the old files into a new database so I’m only now seeing your medical history.” It couldn't have been more than a minute before she spoke again, "It looks like you're in good shape."

{ a/n: pretending i'm healthy mentally and physically for this one }

My confusion did not go unnoticed.

Ellie turns to sit on her desk and laughs, "Your health I mean."

The blush that was for sure on my face already intensifies under her gaze, "Oh um- yeah I haven't had to come here aside from the yearly check ups." my eyes dart back to the posters.

"Well, time for another one" she gathers the papers and nods her head towards the other door, "come on through to the examination room."

After letting me in first, Ellie lays a stethoscope around her neck. Giving me time to scan the room and realize everything is the exact same as it was last time. Besides the fact that my heart is trying to punch a hole through my chest. I try to take deep yet quiet breaths to relax. Not working at all, which is making it worse. Hearing the door close I try to return her smile, or at least have a neutral expression.

"You can set your bag there" she gestures to a chair, "you only need to take off your shirt and shoes, then we can get started."

"Should I put a gown on?" I ask.

"If you'd like" she replies, scribbling away on a blank form, "this shouldn't take long so just staying in your shorts would be fine, too, since I'll need to take a look at your back."

"Oh, okay." I nod dumbly, trying to form a thought.

"Would you like me to get you a gown?"

Looking to the opposite side of the room I see Ellie suppressing a smile.

I'm not the greatest with social interaction but there's something behind that smile right.

"No it's okay." I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"We'll just start with your vitals once you're ready" she goes to wash her hands and put on gloves.

Hyperaware of the possibility of her eyes on me, I set my bag down and reach for the top button of my uniform. Somehow I manage to take it off without fumbling the buttons. The image of Ellie leaning over her desk flashes through my mind.

Your constant harassment of the female gender makes me sick.

I rub my now clammy hands over my shorts before folding my top and placing it on my bag. Nervously adjusting the straps of my bra (a relatively nice one thank god) and the waistline of my shorts.

"You can go ahead and take a seat on the examination able."

Seeing her reach for the blood pressure cuff does nothing to ease my heartbeat.

Still too late to run?

Ellie speaks up having noticed my hesitation, "No need to be nervous." That also did nothing to ease my heartbeat, "Whichever arm you'd like.” I hold my left arm out for her to wrap the cuff around. She gently taps my forearm, "Just relax your shoulder for me"

Once done she jots down my blood pressure and slides over in front of me on her rolling stool.

"Any concerns overall? I'm gonna ramble off what I'm looking at just so you're aware and we don't sit in silence. Feel free to ask questions, okay?"

"Okay" I can't help but smile back.

"I didn't see any masses or lesions...mobility and turgor is within normal limits...may I see your hands?"

When I lift them for her, she squeezes them in her own and looks at them.

"Uh no concerns, by the way." I answer her question from earlier.

"Good, capillary refill is less than two seconds bilaterally. Feel free to speak up if anything comes to mind while you're here. History of migraines or light sensitivity?"

"No."

She stands to allow her fingers to comb through my scalp and add pressure to different points around my head, "Let me know if you have any pain or discomfort from this."

"Alright" quite comfortable actually.

"Good, no signs of alopecia...no pain from palpation, the skull is normal cephalic and atraumatic. You wouldn't believe how many people have been hit in the head around here and did nothing about it until I notice" she checks things off on her clipboard before pulling out a small notecard, "now I'll check your vision acuity."

She holds it about a foot away from my face.

"Just cover one eye and read the bottom line for me."

"Four, two, six, seventy-nine.”

"Perfect, can you cover the other eye and read the line above backwards."

"Nine, three, seven, sixty-two, four."

"Perfect" she scribbles away and stands closer, "now what I'm gonna do is have my hands behind your head and then bring them into your field of view and I'd like you to let me know when you can see them, okay?"

"Yup." where do I look, I may burst into flames if we have to hold eye contact.

"Just look at my nose" she taps it and winks.

Easy now woman I am gay

She brings her hands behind my head and then forward at different heights.

"Which ones wiggling?" she asks after I've said I can see them.

"Your left." I smile.

"Good, one more time"

"Which ones wiggling?" she bites her lip as she smiles.

"Your right."

"Perfect. Visual fields are intact in all four quadrants. I'll just look at your eyes now."

Of course

"Your eyelids are without ptosis and under ectropion, the sclera are white without erythema, look up for me?" cupping my face she rests her thumbs on either side of my nose and lightly draws down my lower lid, "Conjunctiva are pink. Next I'll look at the lenses so just stare at the bridge of my nose."

She removes a small flashlight from the chest pocket, moves it from the side of my face to the front, and does the same on the other eye.

"Good, no opacities or crescentic shadows... corneal reflection is symmetrical bilaterally, keep staring at the bridge of my nose…" she puts a hand up to block one side of my face and shines the light on the uncovered eye before turning it off and holding it vertically in front of me, "…good now if I can have you stare at the tip of my penlight then focus on the back wall...now back to the penlight...and to the back wall...great."

Ellie stops to check a few more things off the paper.

"Now eyes still on the pen light and without moving your head follow it with your eyes" she moves it vertically, horizontally, closer, and farther, "great you can relax for me." she pats my knee.

Reaching around me she pull an instrument off the wall.

"Next is the ophthalmoscope -say that three times fast- I'm just gonna take a look in your eyes. You'll see a bit of light, okay?"

"Okay."

She smiles stepping closer, "I'll try to be quick. Pick a spot on the back wall for me, I'm just gonna brace your head." she tilts my head back slightly and lifts the skin of my brow before looking through the instrument. "Red reflex noted...okay and other side...again red reflex noted...great. Optic disc and optic cup visualized, clear borders, no AV nicking noted, and no papilledema...now for your ears."

She replaces the tool on the wall and takes down another.

"I'll check your auditory acuity this time. It’s not uncommon for people surrounded by ongoing, loud machinery daily to have slight hearing problems." she pulls the table forward, "I'll just stand behind you and whisper a series of numbers or letters and I need you to repeat them back to me."

"Okay."

"Can you plug your right ear for me," she stands at the corner of the table behind me and whispers, "B N 6."

"B N 6." I repeat.

"Perfect, and the other ear," she shifts to the other side, "L 5 9."

"L 5 9."

"Auditory acuity intact bilaterally, on inspection no obvious masses or lesions, let me know if you have any pain with this." she steps almost between my legs and feels behind and below my ears, then tugs on the cartilage and lobes.

"No pain."

"Good, now I'll just take a look inside," she sits beside me on the table, "tilt your head just slightly away from me, perfect...tympanic membrane visualized...without erythema."

She returns the instrument to the wall and stands in front of me again.

"Let me know if you have any pain with this as well." she presses the pads of her thumbs where my eyebrows meet the bridge of my nose and then along the top of my cheekbones, "How long have you been working here?"

"Four years."

"Wow, what is it you do?"

"I handle the manual machinery. Mostly glass and wood carving, woodworking."

"You're quite handy then?"

"I like to think so." I smile at the innuendo.

She tilts her head and smiles, "No pain on palpation of the frontal or maxillary sinuses...I'll check your lymph nodes so again let me know if you have any pain." Ellie places her fingertips between my jaw and ears, where my jaw meets my throat, on the underside of my jaw, and where my shoulders meet my neck, "Tilt your head to the side for me."

My eyes fall to her lips and lift to unintentionally meet hers.

"Hi" she giggles, continuing to press against the nape of my neck.

I gotta gay- go I gotta go,"Hi" I laugh nervously.

"Tilt to the other side for me please...good, now just push your shoulders forward and lift them towards your ears." She presses the space between my collar bones and neck. Having glanced at my cleavage she clears her throat, "Looks good- your lymph nodes. All non-palpable so I-I'll check your trachea."

Ellie clears her throat again and glides her forefinger and thumb down either side of my throat while resting her other hand on my shoulder.

"Trachea is midline without deviation...coming down off of the cricoid cartilage...tilt your head slightly forward...perfect...swallow for me...” her eyes meet mine this time, “Perfect."

I’m gonna need her to stop activating my praise kink.

She checks more things off, "I'll have a listen to your heart.” Ellie moves the stethoscope to different points on my chest, asking me to take deep breaths. There's a lapse in silence before she comments, "Is it the medical or me making your pulse run so fast?"

When I finally look at her, a cheeky smile is on her face. A nervous laugh leaves my lips again when the side of her hand grazes the top of my boob to place the stethoscope back over my heart.

"Definitely me," she smirks, "it may be beating faster than mine...stand up and turn around for me." she adds quietly.

How could I forget this part?

"Good. I'll just check your spine now. It's common for issues to come up in your line of work, with the being hunched over and constant heavy lifting. No scapula protrusions or torso shift...touch your toes for me."

Oh goody

"No abnormal protrusion of the ribs or spine...stand back up. I'll have to do a lung exam."

"Sure"

"Can I unclip this, briefly?" she asks quietly, resting her hand on the clasp of my bra, "I just have to feel your back muscles."

"Oh- yeah that's fine." I keep my arms at my sides so the cups and straps stay in place.

"Let me know if there's any pain or tenderness…" her hands add pressure going from my shoulder blades to the curve of my waist, "good...no abnormalities in the muscles surrounding the lungs...although you're a little tense." she says more to herself.

Her hands hold my waist just below my ribs.

"Deep breath in...and out...symmetrical lung expansion...I'm gonna have a listen to your lungs so hug yourself and lean forward a bit for me. Just take deep breaths through your mouth when you feel the stethoscope on your back, any lightheadedness just let me know." she presses the stethoscope at different points along either side of my spine and ribs.

The cold metal makes me hold my breath for a second but it's the hand delicately resting on my hip that has all my attention.

"Vesicular breathing heard in all lung fields, no adventitious breathing sounds." Her lips along my neck sent a shiver down my spine, "Perfect." her hold on my hip tightens when I arch into her. My breathing becomes staggered as she places the stethoscope on the table, “Are you sure?” she slowly removes her gloves, giving me time to think- as if I need it.

I slip the straps off of my shoulder and plop it on the chair with the rest of my belongings. She comes to stand behind me and I turn my head to the side to nudge my nose against hers.

Ellie hesitates, "No one finds out about this."

Bringing my arms back to rest my hands on the sides of her thighs I promise, "I won't say a word."

Her wandering hands find my chest to take my breasts into her hands. Her lips glide across my shoulder then back up to my ear. Nothing is heard in the room aside from quiet gasps and the dirty sweet nothings she whispers in my ear. "I think I want to taste you first, I'm a bit impatient." Her hold on my breasts is released so she can unbuckle my shorts. Pulling them down over my hips and reaching around me to lay them over my bag.

How polite

She grips my shoulders to turn me around, trapping me between her and the side of the table. Finally bringing me into a searing kiss. Her palms find the back of my thighs to hoist me onto said table, hands settle on my knees eager to push them apart, "May I?"

I nod quickly.

Her lust filled gaze is trained between my legs, "All for me?"

I don’t get a chance to reply when Ellie pulls me closer to the edge. The anticipation building as she slowly removes my underwear. One hand goes back to my center while the other holds the back of my neck to bring my forehead to hers. The intimacy of the embrace earns a moan from me and a velvety laugh from her, "Does that feel good?"

I nod dumbly, overwhelmed by her fingers making languid circles over my clit.

She pulls her stool over with her foot and takes a seat. Trailing featherlight kisses from my knee to my inner thigh, skipping over where I need her most and kissing up the other leg. The sudden weakness makes me drop down onto my elbows. She spreads my lips with her hand and before I know what's happening, her tongue is on me. My body spasms at the attention, hips rolling to match her rhythm as I lay flat.

Her red hair flows over my stomach and I have to run my fingers through it. Brushing it out of her face so I can see her, holding it in my hand to encourage her, tensing when I can't take it anymore.

"Mhm, there you go..."

My back arches, "Oh fuck" I slap my hand over my mouth.

"Shhh” she smiles, “I know, baby, I know." Ellie takes hold of my hips to keep her mouth locked on my center while I writhe, "Mhm cum for me mhmm-"

My hips move on their own but she keeps pace, seeing through as the waves of my climax crash and crest. Once I calm down she stands and brings me towards her by my wrists. Wrapping my arms around her waist and cupping my face to bring me into a kiss, allowing me to taste myself.

"Were you watching me before you came in?" she asks, kissing along my jaw.

Embarrassment mixed with excitement has me admitting to it, "Yes."

"Bad girl...did you think about pulling my skirt up?"

"Yes…" I confess quietly.

"Do it." Still reeling from how soft her lips are, I take a moment to process her words. A smile graces her face as she steps to the side and bends over the examination table, "Well?"

Stepping down from the table, my legs and hands tremble as I reach out. Grazing against the back of her thigh at the hem of her skirt.

"It's easier if you're on your knees." she smirks, shifting her hips from side to side. The anticipation in her not so subtle request makes me realize how much she's enjoying this, too.

Dropping to my knees I reach up again to run my hands up the sides of Ellie's legs. Slowly pushing her skirt up, garters clipped to her tights come into view.

Am I dreaming?

Bringing my hands around to the front of her thighs, I brace myself in order to kiss the back of them softly. Flicking my tongue out ever so slightly before gently biting.

"Tease" Ellie let's out a breathy laugh.

I tug on the hem of her dress, "Can I take it off?"

She turns to face me, looking down at me as she unbuttons the top of the dress. Leaving the last few for me to do and allowing me to pull it down over her hips. "Is that better?" she asks stepping out of it.

"Much" I smile up at her.

She runs her thumb over my jaw and asks, "How do you want me?"

"C-can you sit on the table?"

She bends over to kiss me once more, "Keep looking at me like that and you can have whatever you want."

Resting my hand on her inner thigh I now press firmer kisses to her lower stomach until my hand reaches her covered center, where I placed an equally firm kiss over her clit.

After her hips buck ever so slightly, Ellie's fingers find their way into my hair but I don’t need any encouragement to remove the lace barrier. Once I do, a sharp tug at my roots pulls me up to her face for another deep kiss.

"The next time you come see me I won't even bother wearing anything under my dress" she said.

Fueled by her promise I duck my head to glide my tongue over her cleavage. Noticing the front clip I quickly unsnap it, freeing her breasts and earning a groan when I sweep across her hardened nipple. Making sure to pull it between my lips and teeth.

I kiss all the way down to her stomach, watching her muscles ripple as I slip lower. Her hand makes its way into my hair again, eyes close, breath spilling out in a heavy panting gasp. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip when my tongue plunges inside her, soon replaced with two fingers. But there was no stopping the final moan when the burning rush of pleasure left her shaking.

Her thighs twitch from the continued penetration. I finally come up for air when Ellie pulls my head away and stills my wrist.

After a bliss filled laugh she brings my fingers to her mouth and cleans them. Drawing me even closer by wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling my arms around her once again. She kisses me slowly, sucking on my tongue as we part.

"I really hate to say it but we should probably finish your exam" she laughs, sitting up on her elbows, "you have anywhere to be after this?"

"I was gonna grab something to eat...seems I did anyway." I smile.

Her cheeks are tinted pink, breathing still evening out, "Seems you did. I know we skipped right to dessert- I told you I'm impatient, but do you wanna go grab some real food once we're done with this?" she motions towards her clipboard that holds the exam form.

"Sure." I nod excitedly.

Ellie laughs again, squishing my face, "We should probably get dressed then, huh?"

"That sounds like a good idea, I'm struggling to keep my eyes on your face." I smirk.

She rolls her eyes getting up, "I'm trying to do my job here."

"You've already done me so I guess that's fair." I sigh dramatically.

"Put some clothes on and stop giving me those eyes." she chuckles, pushing my discarded clothing against my chest.

#ellie staple #dr ellie staple #x reader #glass 2019 #sarah paulson

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bluemusickid · 4 years

Note

Hi! I hope you're doing well 🥰 Can you I request one where Steve breaks reader's arm or leg by mistake during training and has to take care of her afterwards? Definitely won't mind if some smut is added 😅 Thank you!!

OMFGGGG MY FAV WRITER SENT AN ASK ASDFGHJKL (Also full disclosure: this has been one of my kinks for a while :P)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slow burn (just a tad), 18+, SMUTTTT, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), did I mention NSFW? Read at your own risk.

A/N: I would like to thank @imdarkinme for sending in this AMAZING ask! She’s a doll and I’ve been a fan of her writing for so long!! I would also like to thank @donutloverxo for converting me to a Steve Stan loool. I wanted him to be a bit dark here, but in the end his dorky side won. :P Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!! Send in your requests here and you can join my taglist here (or you could just send an ask lmao)! Thanks!

I post my stuff only on AO3 and here, nowhere else.

The Learning Curve

You groaned as you got up from the mat, yet again. It was dumb of you to ask Captain Rogers to train with you. As a new recruit, you’d obviously wanted to impress him; he was the leader of the Avengers after all. There was only one tiny problem you forgot to factor in: the man was a Super Soldier, while you were...not.

“Come on, get up! We still have two rounds to go!” a voice bellowed from above you.

You mentally cursed at the voice. You’d tried to not let it affect you, but like many others, you had a bit of a crush on the Captain. But it wasn’t solely because of his looks, it was more about his passion to help and save and to protect. He was always so passionate, it was hard to keep away(which was a fiercely guarded secret). You felt like Icarus, when you were with him.

Getting up, you tried to block his punches, while getting in a few yourself. It was impossible, the man was a champ. You saw your opening, however, when he seemed to be distracted by someone approaching him from behind you. Seeing this as a golden opportunity to catch him off guard, you threw a punch aiming for his face. Unfortunately, he blocked the punch and pushed you, to ward you off. It seemed as if he too, forgot that he was a Super Soldier, pushing you a bit too hard.

You screamed as you fell to the ground, twisting to save your face, your arm breaking your fall. Your suspicions were confirmed as you tried to move your arm but couldn’t. Steve heard you yelp and rushed to your side, carefully inspecting your injured appendage. You squealed as he touched your arm, the pain indescribable. Steve whispered his apologies a million times, trying to haul you up by your waist, in vain. Finally, he gave up and picked you up bridal style, like you weighed nothing.

You gasped, partially out of pain, but mostly out of surprise at the sudden move.

“Umm...Cap..tain..I..can..walk..” you stuttered, unable to keep the pain out of your voice.

He looked into your eyes and smiled, shaking his head. Oh dear lord. This man truly was gorgeous. Nearing the MedBay, he slowly placed you on the bed, his mouth tantalisingly close to yours as he lowered you onto the surface. You never realised how blue his eyes were, which at the moment were filled to the brim with anxiety and some other emotion; which you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Deciding you were probably delirious from the pain, you tried to focus on what the doctor was telling you.

“...so you’ll have to be on constant bedrest for the next two weeks before we can check again to see if you need a rod put in.”

“Err, I’m sorry doc, what?” you mumbled apologetically, embarrassed by your thoughts.

“As I was telling Captain Rogers, you seem to have a hairline fracture in your ulna, which could require support. You need to rest and take it easy for at least two weeks. Training will have to be put on hold, and I suggest you call a family member to take care of you in the meantime.” the doctor said, scribbling notes.

“Oh, that..won’t be necessary. I can do stuff on my own, I’ll be very careful.” you said with a grimace, not wanting to seem weaker in front of Steve.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve said, firmly. “She’ll stay in my quarters. It’s the least I can do after breaking her arm.”

You stared at him, a million things going through your head. You and him, in the confines of a room, alone. Oh no. This was going to be torturous in more way than one.

“Oh no no no, Captain. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t like to impose. Plus, I’m feeling better already! I’m sure it’s more than manageable. Please..I..I’ll be okay, really.” you rushed, pretty sure that your voice was betraying just how fast your heart was beating.

Steve smirked. “This isn’t up for debate. Plus, I’m sure it would be easier for the others to check up on you when we’re away on missions.” he said, taking the prescription from the doctor.

You winced as he helped you up from the bed, the warmth of his hand making you hyperaware about what your life was gonna be like for 2 weeks. You sighed. It was gonna be a loooong two weeks.

-------

You realised after a week that your worries had all been for naught. Steve was an excellent caretaker. He made sure you took all your medicines at the right time, ate properly and rested enough. He was also a thorough gentleman, always calling a lady nurse when you needed to take a shower or get dressed; really respected your boundaries. But you couldn’t deny the shift in his behaviour towards you. At first, you felt like you were reading into it too much, but then it started to get more noticeable. They were little things, but it meant so much. He would insist on having lunch with you, no matter if you were quiet or chatty; Steve always was there. He brought your favourite blanket from your chambers to make sure you felt more comfortable. At night, he would make sure you were comfortable, get you hot chocolate, maybe even sit next to you till you fell asleep. One time, he held your hand till you drifted off; but you were sure that you felt him leave a small peck on your cheek as you nodded off.

If you weren’t falling for him earlier, you sure as hell were now.

------

After hitting the two week mark, you went to the doctor again for a checkup. All seemed well, there was no need for a rod to be put in but the cast would have to stay on. Steve was there throughout the appointment, listening intently at everything the doctor said with his full focus. It was quite distracting and kinda hot, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him periodically. On one occasion, he caught your eye and grinned, catching you in the act. You wished the ground would swallow you up just then: this man fully well knew that you had a crush on him and was enjoying messing with you.

You nearly gasped as you felt his hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the lift. Something was different today. Steve seemed buoyant, which was very out of character for him.

“The nurse isn’t available today, she had some prior commitments. If it’s ok with you, I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” he said, softly. You gulped, his tone messing with your train of thought.

“Uh, that’s ok, I can manage things for a night. I’ve already imposed on you quite a bit and don’t want to create more of a hassle.”

Steve smiled. “Sweetheart, you’ve not been a hassle, trust me. It felt nice having you around, I enjoy your companionship. Just a few weeks more and you can get rid of me.” he said, with a mischievous grin. You groaned inwardly; this man was driving you nuts.

“Oh no, I really liked staying with you. You’re great company! I don’t think I want to get rid of you, ha.” you said in a flourish, mentally cursing yourself for being such a blabbering fool around him.

Steve looked at you, his eyes darkening. He stepped closer to you, opening his mouth to say something, but the elevator seemed to sense the tension rife in the air and opened at that exact moment. You both snapped out of the haze you were in with Steve beckoning you to his quarters, his hand resting softly on your back.

Back in your room, you realised you needed to take your nightly shower. You were about to call for the nurse, when you remembered that she wasn’t gonna come. Shit. You’d have to call Steve to help with your sling. Closing your eyes, you sighed before you walked to his room, praying to God that you would get through this. Just go in, get the brace off, and get out, you whispered to yourself. With that mantra in mind, you hesitantly knocked on his door. A muffled ‘come in’ reached you, and you timidly entered the lion’s den.

Steve was tinkering with the laptop, clearly engrossed in some work. You felt guilty disturbing him, but it was kind of an emergency.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yes, I..just needed some help with my sling; I tried to take it off, but it’s not coming off. Can you..unfasten it? I’ll be out of your hair in no time..”

Wordlessly, Steve sauntered over to you, turning you around to face the wall. Softly, his fingers undid the clasp of the sling, pulling the straps off your neck, his fingers grazing over your skin gently. You jerked, surprised by the small currents you felt with these small touches. Turning you around, he helped you take your arm out of the sling, his hands accidentally brushing the sides of your breasts. You didn’t dare make eye contact with him; you were sure you would say or do something you would regret later on.

“All done.” he whispered, his eyes not leaving yours. You realised he was merely inches away from your lips; the proximity driving you crazy.

“Thanks.” you mumbled, wanting to run out of the room.

“Are you going to bed? Do you need anything to drink?”

“Yes, I was just gonna head to bed after my shower.”

“You can shower here. I’d be able to keep an eye on you then and you won’t have to worry about any mishaps. See? Win-win.” he said with a grin.

You were about to decline his offer but stopped when he held up his hand. “You need to stop thinking that you’re a burden on me. I like doing things for you, it makes me feel like I’m not totally alone. These two weeks have undoubtedly been one of the best weeks in my life. I like you, and I know you like me. I just want to show you how much I care for you in my own, peculiar ways.” he said, taking your hand in his, drawing patterns on your knuckles softly.

Your mind raced with all the information. You never knew Steve felt this way, he was always so taciturn. Your gaze flitted to his face, his eyes darkening the way they did in the morning. He didn’t need words to convey what his eyes said; he felt the same way you did about him.

You melted as he raised your hand to his lips, placing a kiss which felt like petals grazing your skin. Leaning down, his lips inched closer to yours, his breath tickling your face.

“Tell me if I should stop, and I will.” he whispered.

You waited a beat before making your decision. Raising your lips to his, you touched his lips slightly before murmuring, “don’t stop.”

And that was it. You were lost in the maelstrom of emotions that was Steve kissing you. It started off sweet, with Steve engulfing your lips within his, taking his time to make sure you were enjoying. It turned heated the moment you ran your fingers through his hair, gently tugging on it. Steve ran his tongue over you, begging for entrance. You moaned and opened your mouth, prompting him to unite his tongue with yours, as if to memorise every inch of you. You broke apart, the need for air greater than your desire.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed, placing you on it carefully. Being extremely careful, he pulled off your tee, eyes widening as he took in your bare chest. Kneeling in front of you, he took off your sweatpants and your underwear, leaving soft but searing kisses at every inch of skin he exposed. You sharply inhaled, already feeling yourself get wet even though he hadn’t even touched you properly.

Lowering you to the bed tenderly, he made sure your arm was resting comfortably, placing a pillow underneath the appendage. Placing his hand next to your head, he kissed you deeply, pouring every emotion he felt into that kiss. You moaned as you felt his lips trail lower, leaving kisses along your neck, laving your pulse point. Moving lower, he kissed your breasts, leaving small bites along the way. Taking a swollen nub in his mouth, he sucked on it while massaging the other, prompting you to groan and run your uninjured hand through his hair, wanting him inside you.

While he moved his attention to your other breast, he trailed his fingers down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He finally reached his destination, his fingers soft against your wet nether region.

“Steve, please..I need you..” you whispered in urgency. His intrepid fingers found your swollen nub and circled; gently at first, and then with more intensity. Moving lower, his digits swirled around your wet lips, before plunging into your tight channel. You gasped as he began thrusting, his knuckles bumping along your front wall, hitting your sweet spot. You had to refrain from arching your back, instead relegating to pulling his head down for a kiss. He increased his speed, adding another finger once he sensed how close you were. You shrieked as you reached your peak, breaking apart from the kiss.

As you opened your eyes, recovering from your orgasm, you saw Steve look at you, an unspoken question in his deep blue eyes. You nodded, cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his soft, soft skin. You don’t know what power he wielded over you, but it didn’t matter. You had no qualms being caught in this spell he wove.

Shedding his clothes, he returned to his place, widening your spread legs with his torso. Sitting back on his heels, he took in your body, his gaze running over every curve, every stretch mark, every beauty spot on your body. Taking his hard member in his hand, he gave a few strokes before lowering himself, running his nose against yours. He ran his tip along your wet folds before plunging into you in one swift move. You gasped and closed your eyes, your head falling back against the pillow. He gave you time to adjust to his size, your walls snug against him. After a moment, he began moving, careful to not move your arm. He started off slow, making sure you felt every inch of him. You hooked your legs around his hips, urging him to move faster. He took the hint, his pace increasing with each thrust. The coil in your belly was tightening and you could feel yourself hurtling towards completion for the second time. Running your hand along his back, your hand made it’s way to his ass, pushing down, begging him for more. Steve held himself up, looking deeply into your eyes, as he sped up his thrusts. You could feel him within you, each thrust hitting your weak spot over and over again.

You screamed his name as you reached your peak, your legs tightening around him; wrapping yourself around him like a vine. He was close too, his thrusts now becoming frantic as he was chasing his end. Your walls contracting around him set off his orgasm as he moaned, spilling every last drop of himself inside you. You both panted, as he dropped his head on your chest, trying to catch his breath. You both stayed like that for a while as you ran your fingers through his scalp, enjoying the feel of his weight on yours.

There were many things to talk about, sure.

But for now, this was more than enough.

-----

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @worksby-d @gotnofucks @imdarkinme @chris-butt @ozarkthedog

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baubaes · 3 years

Note

hi! is there a chance for Jemily with no22? some angst maybe? cheers🤗

Well hello to you to! And of course there is!

@thatonecurlygirl prompt list 22

“I can’t give you what you want.”

Ship: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau

Word count: 5,4k

Genre: angst/hurt/fluff/very very light nsfw? i have no clue how to label this

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, injuries, classic criminal minds vibes :^)))

Summary: "Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead. She, however, was on a plane to Paris." aka JJ taking care of staked Emily, the blackbird flashback and events around it.

A/N: i thought of way too many scenarios when even though Emily and JJ are literally in love, it could never work out. here's one of them :^) i hope you'll enjoy it!! xx ana apparently i just can't imagine a scenario in which these characters could have a peaceful, quiet and happy life, im so sorry

Emily felt drained.

She was all hurting, really bad, her head was killing her, not only from the beating she received those several days ago, but also the mere stress of all this.

It was pretty baffling for her to realize that she survived this whole ordeal.

She couldn’t say for how long she was out; it felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity.

And she really thought that she died, when she eventually lost consciousness in Morgan’s arms. That still felt like ages ago.

It was all really confusing, but then again, she couldn’t spare too much of her strength to dwell on what actually happened. Emily just felt too weak to try to keep her eyes open for too long and that resulted in her reality being pretty much scattered.

When she woke up in a hospital room, she was dazed and overwhelmed. They’ve put her on some strong painkillers after the surgery and most of the time right then felt like a blur. She thought she heard some voices in her dream, maybe doctors, maybe… Was it JJ?

She heard bits and pieces of conversations, somebody commenting on her condition in a low voice, nervous footsteps circling around the room, the dimmed rhythmical sounds of all the equipment she was hooked to, some sort of buzzing and a one sided conversation that had to be a phone call.

Was it just some bizarre dream?

A way for her subconscious mind to cope with the anxiety surrounding the recent events?

Whether it was real or not, it let her stay in this state of slumber brought to her through an IV drip.

Despite all that, she felt really grateful. She wasn’t sure where to channel this gratitude though;

Her team for backing her up?

The doctors for patching her up in the OR?

God, for allowing her to continue her existence?

Then again, she wasn’t sure if the last one existed, nor that the almighty entity would waste its time on making sure little old her survives.

It was comforting though, that her last moments on this Earth managed not to be spent with Doyle, even if that was against her will, so in theory, she didn’t have much of control over this.

Memories of him were a combination of ones that she’s made as Emily Prentiss and ones that she’s made as Lauren Reynolds. As Emily, it consisted of all those moments when he threatened her and her team, he kidnapped her, tortured her, nearly killed her…

As Lauren she was able to saw his more… Humane side.

Lauren was his girlfriend. Lauren lived with him,

Lauren shared her joys and fears with him. Lauren loved him.

But that was Lauren.

She wasn’t real. An identity, that’s all that she was.

And even though Emily tried to convince herself that Lauren’s feelings were perfectly compartmentalized away from her own, deep down she knew she was lying to herself.

Was Doyle ever somebody she actually loved?

She definitely despised him, but it felt like now she was obligated to despise even her own self for ever having feelings for this monster. Positive ones anyway.

Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead.

She, however, was on a plane to Paris.

It was all coordinated by Hotchner and JJ.

Nobody else knew.

Her team, her friends, her loved ones were about to attend her funeral in a few days.

She imagined confused look on Spencer’s face, Garcia’s eyes filled with tears, Morgan frowning and looking away. Would Rossi be sad, or would he finally feel relieved to be ridded of her impulsiveness and comments on literally everything?

She imagined her mother, who obviously was not on it, throwing a pile of soil on the coffin. That would not hold her body inside. Would she cry? Would she stay composed even at a funeral of her only child? Well, again, it wasn’t real real, but she wouldn’t be able to realize that.

For some reason, she figured JJ would’ve taken it upon herself to feel guilty, despite knowing what was going on.

They both knew it was the only way to make it all work.

Emily worried about everyone, but there were two people she worried about the most. Spencer and Penelope.

They both were incredibly strong, but she couldn’t be sure how would they deal with this.

She worried, since Reid did not cope well with losing authorities. And even if he would never admit it to her face, she knew that he looked up to her.

The thought of that made her feel the bile appear on the back of her throat.

That kid has lost so many people already… And he internalized all that, it had to be weighing on him every single day. It felt cruel to add another person to that list.

She had to keep thinking about the bigger picture to even remotely be able to deal with all that.

Now Garcia was somebody that Emily truly loved.

It was hard to imagine her being sad over her „death”.

Not because of the probability of the blonde being sad,

rather the severity of her grieving, Emily would imagine.

Penelope was one of those people who were able to feel so much, maybe even too much sometimes.

And on a daily basis it was wonderful. That’s what’s made her such an incredible, empathetic human being, who, despite their job, was still able to not only - be cheerful, but to cheer others up as well.

When she thought of that, it felt as if her heart could break to million pieces.

It was strange, how in that moment she should still feel the pain;

They’ve stabilized her after the surgery, but there were still bruises on her face, stitches across her abdomen, burnt skin on her chest. And she did feel it, but it was blurred, far away.

The feeling that made her grasp reality to the point of hyperawareness was the emotional pain.

Somehow she was able to compare it to the pain of being staked.

She still wasn’t sure what was a proper emotional response in that situation.

It wasn’t in the manual, or in training, despite people having to go… Well, faking your own death was like going undercover, in a way.

Both at the Interpol and the FBI, nobody taught her how to feel, while pretending to be dead.

She knew how to make it happen technically, more or less. After all, Lauren had already died. Her old team, JTF-12, was able to pull that off those several years ago. Including her of course.

But that was Lauren. An identity, which, sure, she’s been tied to for quite some time, living as her, acting like her, becoming her in a way.

Still, just an identity.

Right now, there wasn’t a disguise, an identity to toss away, allowing her to come back to her regular life.

Right now her regular life was supposed to cease to exist.

Before, she thought about her goal and the fact, that she survived. She was grateful, in some way she felt obligated to take care of Declan and she wouldn't be able to do that, if she was actually dead, right?

Even though she knew that she had no right to feel attached to the boy as much as she did, she just couldn’t help it. The image of him as a toddler, walking around the room in Doyle’s house stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake it off. And even before Doyle found her, that image caused her to have problems with falling asleep from time to time.

Emily never seriously thought of herself becoming a mother, for that role to be the main purpose of her life. She was afraid of screwing her potential children up, because she knew that even if she meant well, it wouldn’t guarantee them turning out okay. And her line of work made it impossible to both realistically approach the idea of maternity - she didn’t have a partner and if she were to be a single mother - it would be impossible to keep up with the BAU - that job was just too demanding; but also she saw so many downright evil, just unimaginable things that people were capable of doing to one another. How could she ever be able to shield a child from that?

Suddenly, all these ridiculous, small things that she wouldn’t think twice about made her feel as if each and every part of her life was just slipping through her fingers, right there, right then.

That one window in her apartment, the one with the wide windowsill, she loved to sit on it and watch the sky. Sergio would curl up in her lap or right next to her, on the windowsill, quietly purring, when she would pet his black fur. It didn’t happen often, because most nights she'd come home so exhausted, all she could basically do was just pass out on her bed. And Sergio would sleep on a pillow right next to her, despite Emily's promises to herself that she will teach him to stop, because she'd wake up covered in his fur with a runny nose.

But when she had a chance to do that, it made her mind stop racing, at least for a few minutes. That barely ever happened anywhere else.

Now she realized that Sergio was alone in her apartment and she panicked. But just for a second, because then she remembered JJ in the hospital, telling her that Penelope took him in. Of course she did. He'd definitely be surrounded with love. She wished she could've just taken him with her though, since she's already been missing him. Silly little fur ball, making her fall in love with him gradually. Penelope wouldn't be able to resist his charm for sure, she thought to herself, smiling. Still, she felt really sad.

Emily realized that she’s left so many things behind.

She didn’t think of herself as someone intensively attached to material possessions, but all these had a sentimental value for her and that was the only thing that mattered.

The thoughts invading her head were random, coming to her without any particular sense or order, falling on her mind like an avalanche.

And she thought about that crumpled up picture, capturing her with her friends when she was a teenager, back in Rome.

A cross, that her mother gave her on her first communion. She wasn’t ever really wearing it, but she liked knowing that it was safely tucked away in one of the drawers in her closet. It brought her some strange kind of comfort.

A box with letters she’d exchange with her father when she was a kid, because even though they moved around together as a family, he still would have assignments all around the world. So he would leave for a single weekend, or for several months at a time. No matter how long or short was he leaving for, he’d always try and send her a postcard, hence the collection of them, both from huge cities in Europe and Asia and tiny places she’s never even heard of before in America or Australia.

Maybe she wasn’t going through this box ritually on some settled schedule, but every once in a while she would look at those tacky pictures of touristy little towns, as well as simple, beautiful pictures of great historical monuments or watercolored landscapes of picturesque countrysides. And they'd make the corners of her lips rise up just a tiny bit.

All that with a couple words reading simple greetings, scribbled in a hurry, in her dad’s small, not exactly neat handwriting, on the back of each and every one of them.

„Love you, Dad” summed up every single message.

And looking at those words made her feel warmth, both now and when she was a little girl. Her father wasn’t very talkative and he rarely told her he loved her unprompted. So she got used to reading these words, instead of hearing them from him.

She cherished these postcards and anytime she’d go through them, she noticed some kind of feeling spread throughout her body, that felt like pure joy, but also love and safety.

Kurt Vonnegut’s "Sirens of Titan".

Morgan lent it to her a few months ago.

The book was by her bed, bookmarked with some crumpled receipt for groceries she’d found at the bottom of her purse, when she'd had to suddenly break away from Rumfoord and Kazak on the jet.

She’s read it before, truth be told, (in Italian and back in the ’80s), but Morgan insisted that she just had to read the original version. And even though there was a stack of books she wanted to read going back at least two years sitting on her bedroom floor, dangerously leaning against the radiator, the day she brought it home, she placed the Sirens on the very top of her bedside table, instead of the stack.

She’d imagine Morgan would appreciate that gesture.

Morgan, her partner.

Morgan, who held her before she passed out.

Morgan, who always had her back.

And she tried to do the same for him in the field.

He’s saved her ass countless times.

Emily wished she could have had his back right now.

She realized with a paralyzing fear that it could last forever.

Doyle could lay low, undetected for years.

Would it keep Morgan up at night?

Would he blame himself, wondering?

If he'd gotten to her seconds earlier, if he had only ran faster, if he’d found her sooner, would it change anything?

Thinking about that made her fists clench suddenly.

If she had any fingernails left, they would surely dig into the skin of her palms very painfully right now.

Emily felt this overwhelming guilt filling her chest, making her throat feel as if it was closing, her teeth grit.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the jet’s cabin had become decompressed and she couldn't reach the oxygen mask.

"You’re doing okay?"

She heard the soft and calming voice of her only companion on this flight, naturally besides the pilot.

JJ was looking at her with those big, worried, blue eyes and even though Emily’s first instinct was to nod, as she did just that, she felt her eyes watering.

"I can't stand the thought of all of them grieving over a lie."

She mumbled out.

"Emily, you know that this is the only way. We’d never make them go through this, if there were any other options. They will understand."

JJ’s voice became more firm with the last sentence, she was obviously in a mind space reserved for dealing with crisis.

"I really thought that was it, you know?"

Emily asked, a little startled at the sound of her own voice.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’s held an actual conversation with another person, one that wouldn’t consist of barely understandable mumbling as a form of communication on her end.

"There came that point, where the pain went away, I guess I went into shock. I heard Morgan’s voice and I wanted to keep my eyes open like he told me to so bad, but I just couldn’t. I felt like I was slipping away and it felt so… Easy. I wasn’t scared at all. I… I knew you guys would take care of Declan, if I wasn’t around. And that all of you would be okay."

She said, trying to piece together everything that happened.

"And apparently I've coded in the ambulance? I had no idea, but some glimpses are coming back to me, slowly. But it was like I’d fallen asleep."

She added, her face reflecting her mind in a state of deep contemplation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by JJ’s voice.

"Thank God, you didn’t…"

Emily only now noticed that with every word that she spoke, JJ’s eyes became more and more glossy. She frowned.

"Hey, I’m here."

She leaned in and smiled faintly.

"Its gonna take way more than some branding and a little stake for you to get rid of me."

JJ laughed, wiping the tears away, before they had a chance to flow down her cheeks.

"Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"

Blonde asked, her voice now soft, her expression puzzled.

Emily felt something strange in her chest.

At first her brain assumed it had to be her burnt skin and damaged nerve endings, but no.

It felt nice, it wasn’t painful.

That warmth, spilling around her insides.

She didn’t have a witty comeback to her question. She wanted to think it was because of the meds making her hazy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. She just looked down at her chest and frowned again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The first thing I’m doing, when we get to Paris is having this removed."

She heard her own voice.

"How could a brand hurt more than getting staked?"

"Maybe it’s a psychosomatic itch you’re scratching? The brand left an emotional toll, Doyle established dominance over you by marking you as his, a stake… I mean you overcame death. The ultimate victory over your foe. Why suffer a pain you’re proud of?"

JJ wondered, actually trying to analyze all that. She looked at her, now amused.

"Or you could always get another tattoo."

Emily laughed at that. JJ continued.

"You know, something transformative? Like a… A phoenix. Or a blackbird."

"I love the song."

Emily said.

"But something tells me, I shouldn’t tread in your waters."

JJ looked at her with a questioning look.

"Come on, JJ. Something’s obviously different about you. You commandeered an Interpol jet. You’re profiling me."

JJ looked down and sighed. Emily continued.

"Why didn’t you say your transfer was a backstop?"

At that JJ’s expression turned to a confused one, indicating that what the other woman said was the truth.

"Oh, I know that look. The 'I can’t trust anyone, but myself' look. I invented it."

Emily added, trying to make it sound funny, but ultimately, it still came out serious, because it was true. JJ smiled at her slightly, but she looked sad.

"Do you ever feel like you’re in way over your head?" Emily nodded, wanting her to continue.

"I got assigned to an information hunt. Instead, I am chasing an unsub, who killed my informant."

"What would Hotch tell you to do?" Emily asked without hesitation. That’s how she found her way around during any investigation, ever since she joined the BAU.

"Focus on victimology, let behavior lead the way…"

JJ listed out loud.

"Exactly. Who did your unsub kill?"

"The one person I was getting through to."

"Why?"

Emily continued with her questions, seeing that they initiated JJ’s thought process.

"Because I was getting through to…" JJ said, frowning.

"I was getting through to her. What if she was about to expose her killer? Someone on the inside…"

Emily could tell that JJ needed somebody else to look at her situation and see it in from a different angle. JJ got really pensive, her eyes glued to some nonexistent point in space.

"It sounds like it's time for you to be the blackbird and flip the script." Emily said slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I guess it does." JJ said with a tiny smile, before getting up.

"Hey, why won’t you try and sleep at least a while? We won’t be landing for several hours, so…"

"Right. You should try and sleep too. I’ve been in a coma, so I caught some Zs, when you think about it. Medically induced ones, but still. You on the other hand must be exhausted."

Emily’s face was covered in grey, purple and yellow spots, but JJ’s face, even though not bruised, still indicated that she had a rough couple of days. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale, instead of slightly flushed like they normally were, her face tired.

They both looked quite miserable.

JJ just smiled in response, but her eyes weren’t a part of that smile. Her eyes stayed sad.

She walked to another seat, so she could try and lie down.

Emily wanted to let JJ rest, because she suspected that by suggesting sleeping, she actually had an excuse to take a nap herself, even if it was supposed to last only few minutes. She deserved a good night sleep, Emily thought to herself, watching the blonde struggling to find a comfortable position. When she eventually succeeded, Prentiss leaned back in her own seat, looking out the window. Her chest was still burning, but she wouldn’t even flinch. Her eyes, almost independently from her will, landed on the other woman every couple of minutes. She watched JJ’s chest move rhythmically, until her breathing became really deep and really steady and she was without a doubt asleep.

She knows what’s happening,

Emily thought to herself.

And so does Hotchner.

Yet, they’re going to have to look at the rest being in pain and they’re going to have to pretend that they’re going through the same thing.

And when she thought about Hotch, it wasn’t that hard to imagine.

He would keep himself perfectly composed in pretty much any situation she ever saw him in.

He was able to calculate his next move without showing as much as a microexpression.

It could be a little unsettling sometimes, but then again when he was surrounded by his family, when he was with Jack, he would expose this softer and loving side of himself. Just a bit. It was quite the view.

Emily had no doubt that he was a good father. And a good man.

He really was great at planning, thinking ahead like no one else;

he had his way of smoothly dealing with issues that inevitably came up during their investigations.

All those things made him an incredible section chief.

Emily was certain that she could trust him with her life. And she did.

It would be hard for anyone to keep such a burdening secret from people you are constantly around.

Eventually, you could start believing the lie, but that also took dedication. It was even harder when you had to lie to people that were actually a part of your life, people that you were close to.

It’s one thing to be undercover and to keep a secret from people you’re trying to infiltrate. During such operations it felt justified to do that, choosing the lesser evil, the end justify the means and all that.

It’s a completely different thing to do that to your friends and family.

"The secret to getting away with lying is believing with all your heart. That goes for lying to yourself even more so than lying to another."

A quote by the author Elizabeth Bear, that she's memorized from reading her New Amsterdam series more than once. She was repeating it in her mind, not being able to stop.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She knew that they made the right call. Still, it was just devastating, thinking what they voluntarily sentenced themselves to.

She tried to calm herself down with proper breathing. It helped.

Emily finally decided to try to sleep. She thought that since she was still medicated, she’d pass out easily, but that didn’t happen.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces of her team members. She felt like her chest was being crushed. Breathing didn't really help.

After what felt like forever of forcing herself to fall asleep without any luck, she opened her eyes and just kept them open. She focused her gaze on what was behind the window.

The clouds, barely visible in the navy skies.

She didn’t do it on purpose, but she realized that she started to dissociate.

And she let herself do it.

The numbness felt better than the stinging guilt.

She didn’t really register it, but tears left her eyes, falling on her lashes and cheeks, as her deep, dark eyes focused on the navy color in front of her, forty thousand feet above the ground.

She couldn’t tell how long it took, but only JJ’s turning in her sleep, simultaneously throwing a bag off the seat made Emily come back to reality. Blonde didn’t wake up. She looked really peaceful.

She thought about not seeing her for God knows how long. It stung, to a point of her gasping. Afraid, that maybe that could’ve woken her up, Emily wiped her tears away, but JJ’s eyes stayed closed. And these intrusive thoughts came back to roam inside her head.

Sure, JJ wouldn’t be with the BAU now, since she’s had that informant operation, but no doubt, she would still see them. They were a huge part of her life after all.

Emily watched her face, calm and soft, imaging it twisted in pain and grief, having to pretend one of their own was dead.

In her mind, JJ was one of the strongest people she knew. She was persistent, hardworking and incredibly professional, but she was also kind, nurturing and very loyal.

What she was doing for her at this very moment proved it perfectly.

She knew that JJ accepted her part in this plan on her own and if she were to start trying to talk her out of it (never mind that it was also too late for that at this point), she wouldn’t change her mind. To be fair, if they switched places, she would do the same for JJ, but still, she couldn’t stop worrying about the woman sleeping on a seat across from her.

Emily watched her friend and it brought her some sort of comfort, a feeling of safety.

She finally dozed off, trying not to think, but focused on JJ’s steady breathing instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Emily, we’ll be landing in about an hour."

She heard, opening her eyes, and she saw JJ standing in front of her, one of her hands on her shoulder.

"I thought you’d like to change before the transfer."

Emily’s hand landed on top of hers, holding both of them on her shoulder.

"Oh, right. Thank you, I…" she looked down at their hands, trying to focus. "We’ll have to say goodbye soon, right?" she blurted out, looking back at her face.

JJ sighed and sat down right next to her, not taking her hand away, but instead, intertwining their fingers and resting both their hands in Emily’s lap.

"Well, it seems so."

She smiled, but her eyes were reddened, filling with tears once again.

Emily’s gaze was glued to their hands, watching JJ’s wrist and fingers, so delicate right now, but perfectly capable of throwing a good punch. Her eyes stopped at the ring on her finger; Henry’s birthstone. She felt that strange feeling again, that warmth spreading throughout her body.

"It’s not going to last forever. We will find Doyle."

JJ mumbled out and Emily held her breath.

"I know, but… I will miss you so much."

Emily said, before instinctually putting her arms around blonde’s waist, to which she responded with wrapping her arms around her neck. JJ tried to be gentle, because of Emily’s condition, but brunette only held her tighter.

They were so close right now, that she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat. It was slightly elevated.

JJ pulled back just a little, so she could look at her face.

"I will miss you as well." she whispered, their eyes laid on each other.

JJ said the next sentence so quietly, that Emily could barely hear it.

"You’re very special to me, you know that?"

Emily wouldn’t be able to logically explain why she did what she did next, but somehow her hands ended up on both sides of JJ’s face and she leaned in, placing her lips on blonde’s ones.

She wasn’t thinking, but as she kissed her, the other woman immediately kissed her back. Emily felt soft palms cupping her face, her eyes closed. That kiss was filled with so much pain and longing and some kind of desperation.

But it made her whole body fill up with that warmth.

Emily wasn’t even sure what that was, so she tried to be gentle. She ended up kissing JJ in a somewhat shy manner, yet the other agent was deepening the kiss with each second, making it more and more passionate. Emily felt her back hitting the wall and a moan left her throat, captured by the kiss. JJ reacted by slowing down, moving her fingers across her face, running them through her hair. Emily was still cupping JJ’s face, her skin felt so soft and warm under her fingers when she brushed them across her cheeks. Their tongues slowly swirling around one another, this time Emily caused JJ to gasp, as she bit her lower lip. She responded with kissing brunette even more eagerly, so Emily brushed her fingers along her neck, resting them on her shoulders. One of her hands was caressing the skin covering JJ’s collarbone. At that she sighed, barely audibly, but Emily caught it. Her fingers moved towards the skin covering her breastbone.

JJ suddenly pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving both of them breathing heavily, blood flowing through their cheeks and lips.

Emily placed her hands back on JJ’s shoulders, she didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she broke the silence.

"JJ, I…" she didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t right. She had a loving husband, a family. She didn’t mean to ruin it for her.

"We don’t have to talk about this." she said quickly and Emily felt strange. She took her hands off of her shoulders and leaned back, so there was space between them.

"I… Dont… Look, if we won’t see each other for…"

She started, but her voice broke, when she realized what expression showed up on JJ’s face.

Regret.

Emily felt so many contradicting things in that moment, that she basically froze. JJ was looking away.

"You went through something traumatic, we all did. It’s only natural to crave human contact then. And it can present itself in many different ways. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine."

"JJ, it means… It means everything for me."

Emily choked out, placing her hand on top of blonde’s. JJ turned her hand, so she could squeeze Emily’s one between her fingers.

She smiled looking at their hands, but only for a fraction of a second. And then she took her hand away, only to look Emily straight in her eyes. She seemed sad, but also… Agitated.

"I can’t give you what you want, Emily." she said quickly, getting up.

"There’s too many reasons why. And… You have to leave."

JJ stated, sort of matter-of-factly.

Emily couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. But all of the pain, both physical and mental suddenly came back, not dimmed anymore.

This was… This wasn’t the time for this. Come on, Emily, it’s time to compartmentalize again. You used to be so good at this!

Well, before joining the team anyway.

"We’re landing in 15. You have to change, definitely cover up these bruises at least a bit." JJ continued talking, her voice morphing back to that task-oriented tone. She was taking clothes and makeup out of the bags, handing the items to her. "Hurry."

Emily felt like she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to get up and do what she needed to. They weren’t looking at each other and even though she wanted to scream, she kept perfectly quiet.

Compartmentalize. It’s not the time. It didn’t mean anything.

They landed and after JJ made sure that the right person was waiting outside to drive Emily to a safehouse, she stood in front of her and hugged her. Emily wasn’t really expecting that right now, since the atmosphere was so tense.

"I will miss you, no matter what." JJ whispered and even though Emily was so stunned from the pain and all around confused, she knew they couldn’t part without a proper goodbye.

"Thank you, for everything. Take care of them." Emily said and she embraced her tightly, one last time. Emily wanted to say that she’ll miss her like crazy, but it felt both like too much and not enough.

She didn’t want to let them turn this into a final goodbye.

"Of course. I will see you soon, okay?" JJ smiled and Emily smiled back. It wasn’t the best forced smile, but she just couldn’t do better in that moment.

"Goodbye, Jennifer." she said sounding way too official, taking a first step out.

"Goodbye, Emily."

Prentiss turned away and quickly made her way to the parked car.

She saw JJ’s face one last time through the tiny window.

The car left the landing strip and disappeared in the night.

„Goodbye, Emily.” she thought to herself, as she caught her own reflection in the side mirror.

„Goodbye, Emily.”

JJ whispered, placing a red rose on the coffin.

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jingabitch · 4 years

Text

Armed to the Fangs ch.11

SUMMARY: you grew up in the hunter’s guild, understanding that it is your sacred duty as a hunter to protect humanity from the vampires that lurk in the dark, draining the life from anyone unlucky enough to be caught. while making the rounds one night, you encounter taehyung, a fabled born vampire - not that you know that when he tries to entice you into a dark alley. next thing you know, you’re kidnapped and taken to their home, where you realise that all of them somehow crave your blood and seem to know more about your past than you do. finding out about where you came from might be the key to setting humanity free.

PAIRING: eventual ot7 x reader

WARNINGS: some description of violence, angst, pining, maybe eventual smut but not for a looooong time, slow burn (really the slowest of burns), fainting from blood loss, things move along in this chapter!

RATING: T

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

A/N: thank you @pasteljeon for looking over this for me. hope you enjoy this update before i disappear again LOL

series index

All of them watched with bated breath as you walked across the room. They could hear your heart pounding madly inside your chest, but your footsteps were resolute and steady. If not for their supernatural hearing, they would have been fooled into thinking that you were completely confident.

“Y/n,” Hoseok rasped, his gaze fixed on you. You tried not to think of the gleam in his eyes as predatory.

Clenching your fists to stop your hands from trembling, you perched lightly on the edge of the mattress. Hoseok’s eyes zeroed in on your jugular, on the almost imperceptible motion of your pulse under the thin, sensitive skin. Even as his instincts clamoured for the blood rushing under your flesh that would save him, there was a sense of hesitance, of guilt, and it was reflected in the slightly sluggish way he reached for you, beating back the urge to pounce.

The other boys shared glances. It was all but clear that you didn’t know the extent of the commitment you were making right now. It wasn’t just a one-time thing: this would bind Hoseok – and the others – to you forever. Were you really okay with this?

Tension was high in the room as the boys debated with each other silently over what to do. They knew that Seokjin wouldn’t tell you until after the deed was done. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, after all, and once you were bound to them, there would be time aplenty to make it up to you. Jungkook, on the other hand, had his fists clenched by his sides.

“Wait—” he cried, his cheeks flushed and his brows drawn down into a scowl.

It felt like everything in the room stopped as all the occupants swiveled their heads around to look at Jungkook. He seemed to realize, too, immediately clamming up and ducking his head as all his bravado vanished in an instant.

Luckily for you, Yoongi took courage from his younger brother’s outburst, continuing where Jungkook hadn’t dared to. “There are some things you should know before you commit to this.”

Hoseok, who hadn’t had the energy for a long, drawn-out explanation, slumped back against the headrest with relief – and a little disappointment. After all, if you ran out of here screaming – which was a real possibility – he might not survive it.

Perched lightly on the edge of the mattress, you redirected your attention to Yoongi. From the sombre inflection in his voice, you could tell that what he was going to say was serious.

“Hoseok… he isn’t sick, or dying because of what happened the other day, or anything like that,” Yoongi started, taking some time to gather his thoughts before he launched into the main part of his explanation.

“You triggered… something in him when you met him,” he continued, putting it as delicately as possible. There was a lot of information that you probably shouldn’t have yet, and all of the brothers were in agreement that regardless of whether you bound yourself to Hoseok, it would be too soon for you to know the full extent of your significance to them. Hell, not all of them were even ready to admit to themselves what was going on.

“What is it?” Curious, you leaned forward.

“His body is rejecting packaged blood,” Namjoon cut Yoongi off smoothly with a more elegant explanation that was less likely to send you screaming for the hills. “He can’t keep any of the blood we have on hand down. He needs a live donor.”

“A live donor…” you murmured to yourself, turning back towards Hoseok thoughtfully. You didn’t know if what they were telling you was true, or even plausible, but then again, you weren’t really an expert on vampire anatomy and biology. Unless it was about the most efficient way to dispatch one, of course.

“Not just that,” Namjoon continued. “There are… some people who are more compatible with certain vampires than others.” That was an understatement of the mate bond so severe it was basically mischaracterization. “You and Hoseok just happen to be compatible in that way. Once he drinks from you, he will need to keep doing it.”

That was the key information you needed, they thought. The mate bond, and all of it… none of them were quite ready to lay all their cards on the table, but you had to know that this wasn’t a one-time deal.

You blanched, your head whipping back around to Namjoon, who was leaning against the wall next to the bedroom door. “I… what?” you breathed in shock and some horror. This had to be a trope from a horror movie, right? Being a permanent blood bag, getting drained of your life bit by bit until there was none of it left to sustain you…

There was nothing you could imagine that was more terrifying. Visions of all the drained bodies you’d come across in your life flashed before your eyes, pale, cold, hard, their necks torn and bloody. You didn’t want that, you thought, feeling like you were sinking into a black hole.

Taehyung sprang forward as you swayed slightly, your face pale as you processed the bombshell Namjoon had dropped on you. “Y/n! Are you okay?” he asked in concern, his hands outstretched to catch you if you fell.

“No…” you murmured. “If you’re going to drain me, do it in one shot. Don’t draw it out.” Even faced with the fear of death, your commitment to the debt you owed Hoseok won out. He’d saved your life, and now you would save his – even at the expense of your own. It was the hunter code, and even if you weren’t a hunter anymore, the habits ingrained in you since you could remember were impossible to break.

Despite how faint and thready the sound of your voice was, all the boys heard you fine. It was so silent in the next moment that even you could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then the room exploded into action. There was indistinguishable yelling, and Taehyung lurched forward, grabbing your hands. It seemed you’d tripped over a land mine somehow, though you weren’t sure what it was, or how you’d triggered them.

“Y/n,” Taehyung said, getting way too close to your face. He gave you an imploring gaze, and the sadness in his eyes made you want to turn away in discomfort, though you couldn’t bring yourself to. “Hoseok would never drain you.” His voice, filled with sincerity, made you feel almost guilty for ever thinking that Hoseok would do such a thing, but then you remembered your first encounter with him, and pulled your hands out of his grasp.

“Y/n, I promise you,” Namjoon added. “The bond between m—vampires and their feeders is all but unbreakable. When… if,” he amended hastily, “you let Hoseok feed from you, he will do everything in his power to keep you safe, including from himself.”

You looked up, and Namjoon nodded at you, the conviction in the set of his jaw clear. The rest of the boys were nodding in agreement, and you turned to look at Hoseok, who was still leaning weakly against the headboard. There wasn’t much expression on his face, but he’d marshalled what seemed like the last of his strength to nod at you, leaning forward slightly.

You took a breath, steeling yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice sounding like it could dissipate into the wind. You trembled as you walked towards the bed, but your steps didn’t waver. The time it took you to cross the room felt like a microsecond stretched into eternity, and you were almost surprised when you reached the bed.

Hoseok’s eyes immediately fixed on your neck, watching the almost imperceptible way your vein throbbed. He could hear the thrum of the blood rushing through it, smell the delicious aroma wafting off you. In your agitation, your heart had quickened, and your face had become flushed, making the scent all the stronger.

You could sense more than see the ravenous hunger pouring off the vampire. It might have been because of your hunter training but, you thought, it was more likely the survival instinct of prey animals that made you hyperaware of the intense stare you were pinned under. That same instinct made you want to run for the hills, but instead you fisted your hands in the sheets to anchor yourself.

“Okay,” you repeated, almost like a mantra to keep yourself calm – or at least, looking that way on the outside – as you steeled yourself, leaning closer to Hoseok as you tipped your head to the side to expose the vein that he’d been eyeing so hungrily.

There was a breathless second of anticipation… and then he struck.

Almost absently, you noted the fluid grace to his movements as he grabbed you, the fingers of one hand spearing through the hair at the base of your head to hold your head in that position as the other rested on your shoulder. There was something almost tender about the way his thumb stroked your collarbone. By contrast, the inhuman speed he used to move his head to your neck and sink his teeth into the flesh reminded you that this was no intimate encounter. You were food, and from the muffled moans of satisfaction you could hear coming from Hoseok, a rather delicious meal at that.

Helplessly, you let out a small whimper, your fingers loosening from the sheets. You wondered if it was in your head, or if the slight weakness you felt in your extremities was because of the blood loss. Despite the boys’ assurances that no harm would come to you, the way Hoseok continued greedily gulping down the blood currently gushing into his mouth was definitely cause for concern, you thought.

Just as you were sure you were going to pass out, Hoseok extracted his teeth from your neck, lapping at the wounds to close them and clean the errant rivulets of blood running down your neck. Hopefully he got them all, you thought slightly dizzily. You liked this shirt.

It was nice that Hoseok was still holding on to your hair, you noted as you leaned against his arm. He was basically propping you up at this point.

You were conscious, but just barely, as you felt Hoseok lower you onto the mattress. Yoongi was the first one to step forward, and he pushed your hair out of your face and behind your ear tenderly. “You took too much,” he castigated Hoseok.

“I know,” Hoseok mumbled, looking ashamed.

“No, you’re good.” You didn’t know why, but the misery radiating from Hoseok stirred something in you. Despite how weak you felt, your priority was making him feel better instead of your own self-preservation. “I’m fine, see?” Taking in a deep breath, you tried to push yourself into a sitting position, but the arm you were using to support your weight collapsed, and Yoongi caught you before you flopped back onto the mattress.

“We should let her rest.” Seokjin came closer and rearranged you, tucking you in next to Hoseok. “She’ll need a cookie or something to raise her blood sugar level.”

You meant to get up and protest that you were fine, you could take care of yourself, but you were suddenly so tired and cold, and it was so cozy and comfortable under the sheets that you just let yourself drift off.

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

Your head hurt like you were hungover, but you knew that definitely wasn’t the case because there hadn’t been any parties at the manor. With a groan, you turned over and opened your eyes slightly, wincing.

In a flash, Hoseok was there beside you, slowly helping you up. He looked a lot better than he had earlier, his cheeks rounder and fuller, his eyes sparkling again.

“How long have I been out?” you asked, your voice raspy. Immediately, Jungkook appeared, holding a glass of water out for you. You reached out to take it from him, but he refused to hand it over, instead holding it in front of your face.

Annoyed, you sighed. “I’m not an invalid,” you told him, grabbing the cup anyway. He didn’t let go, and in the end, your hand was around his as you both tilted the cup towards you.

When you drained the glass, Jungkook took it away from you, putting it down on the bedside table, before returning to fuss over you.

“You guys, I’m okay,” you protested, trying to push the covers off your body to get out of bed. This clearly wasn’t your room, and you wanted to go back. “Where’s Injeolmi?”

“Jimin’s looking after him,” Hoseok reassured you. “You can go back to your room, just eat something first?” The imploring gaze he levelled on you left you powerless to do anything but nod at him.

Seokjin must have been eavesdropping, because it wasn’t even thirty seconds after that that he appeared in the doorway, holding a giant tray of food that he set down in front of you.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, bemused. You hadn’t seen a bed tray in the manor before, and it wasn’t something you’d have thought seven vampires living alone needed.

“Just laying around,” Seokjin said cagily before taking the covers off the food. A hearty beef stew, rice, and an array of side dishes sat neatly on the tray.

“Wow,” you marvelled as you picked up the spoon. Seokjin, despite being unable to eat, constantly wowed you with his culinary creations. The boys watched over you closely as you stuffed your face merrily, only seeming to relax when you’d finished every last morsel of food and slumped back, spent, against the pillows.

“You should get some more rest,” Seokjin said as he picked up the bed tray and made to leave the room.

You nodded in response. The carb coma was starting to get to you, and you pushed the covers off, intending to go back to your room to sleep it off. The other boys protested, but eventually gave in, on the condition that Jungkook would walk you back to your room.

Thankfully, you made the short walk back without any mishaps. Jimin was still there with Injeolmi when you came in, but after making sure that you were okay, he left too.

“Hey, baby,” you crooned at Injeolmi, who leapt off the couch and came to weave around your ankles. You picked him up and went to sit on your bed, leaning against the pillows. Leaning your head back and staring at the ceiling, your hand came up to your neck. The wounds had healed almost instantly – some sort of supernatural magic, you were sure – but the skin was still tender.

For the first time, the gravity of the situation sank in. What the hell were you doing? Sure, you’d wanted to save Hoseok, and the vampires had been nothing but nice to you, challenging your perception of them, but one split second decision had shackled you to them forever. All your grand ideas of using your newfound freedom to do something more normal with your life, or maybe travel… all gone in a second. You had to be here at the manor now.

Was this really okay? Being a blood bag for Hoseok? It wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, but that was because you’d been prepared to die today. Losing consciousness from blood loss definitely wasn’t great, and if this was going to happen frequently, your health was definitely going to suffer for it.

You were on the brink of spiraling into a panic when you heard a knock on the door.

“It’s open,” you called, not moving from your position to see who it was.

“Hey,” Namjoon said when he entered, standing in the entrance of the room.

“What is it?” you asked, lifting your head off the pillows to look at him. You shifted the hand that had been resting on your neck down to your stomach, but Namjoon had noticed it anyway.

“I went out and bought those brownies from that shop you like,” Namjoon said, holding up the paper bag.

That was sufficient to tempt you, and you sat up on the bed, crossing your legs. “Wow, what’s the occasion?” you asked, holding your hands out for the brownies.

Namjoon shrugged, handing them over. “You need to get your blood sugar levels up.”

“Right,” you said, scooching off the bed to sit on the floor. You weren’t about to get crumbs on your sheets. Namjoon came and sat down next to you, both of you leaning against the bed frame.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as you popped the box open, picking up the little plastic fork that came inside. Salted butterscotch, your favourite flavour.

“I feel a lot better now,” you said, half distracted watching the fork sink into the brownie. You popped it into your mouth and groaned in bliss. This one shop was open at odd hours of the night, and sometimes you used to pop by to grab a snack after your patrol when you’d had a particularly bad week, or when you were expecting your period.

“I can tell,” he responded drily, watching you savour the sweet treat. Despite his deadpan countenance, the fact that he’d managed to make you so happy made joy unfurl in his chest, suffusing him with warmth. “Jin-hyung told me that you finished all the yukgaejang.”

“Mhm,” you hummed around another mouthful of chocolatey goodness.

“I was talking about emotionally, though. A lot happened today. Are you okay with it?” he asked carefully, ducking slightly to get a better look at your face.

That statement stopped you in your tracks. You swallowed the mouthful of food, then laid the fork back into the box and put it on the ground carefully. Reaching up, you took the bottle of water on the bedside table that you were sure Jimin had left for you when he came back with Injeolmi.

You opened it and took a long, slow sip of water. Then another one, as you gathered your thoughts. When you couldn’t drink any more water or draw it out any longer, you bit your lip before speaking slowly and carefully. “I’ll learn to live with it,” you said, trying to tiptoe around it.

Namjoon frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

You shrugged wearily. “What difference does it make? I made a commitment, and I have to see it through.” As you said it, you knew it was the right answer. You’d give up all the new dreams you’d been nurturing deep in your heart since you’d come to terms with your expulsion from the guild, and repay your life debt to the fullest.

Namjoon hummed. “Why do you seem unhappy, then?”

“I just…” You tried to choke back the sob, but your voice went high and weird, and you had to stop to compose yourself. “I’d been thinking about what I could do with my life, now that I’m no longer a hunter, you know? Maybe travel, or pick up new interests, or something. Normal things that normal people in their twenties do.”

“Well, you could still do that,” Namjoon said, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“How? I have to stay in the manor forever. I won’t be able to travel.” Your shoulders slumped, and you leaned slightly into Namjoon, unconsciously seeking his support.

“You know, we used to travel around the world all the time,” Namjoon said lightly. “So don’t rule it out yet. Things might change again.”

You were about to interrupt to question him, but he’d continued speaking. “And if you want to find new interests, I’m sure we can figure something out. Between the seven of us, our interests run the gamut.”

That made you crack a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Namjoon confirmed, turning to look at you. You brought your knees into your chest and rested your cheekbone on the tops of them, facing him.

“You already know that Jin-hyung loves to cook. Yoongi-hyung likes music and I’m sure he’d be glad to teach you if you asked. Hoseok used to love dancing, although he hasn’t in… a good while.” Namjoon grimaced at the thought. “You’re always welcome in my library or garden, you know that. Jimin… well… you seem to have bonded well over your love for Injeolmi. Taehyung, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is into fashion and has been dying to revamp your wardrobe.” He gave a little eye roll at that. “And Jungkook, that little muscle pig, is always working out.”

Blinking, you tried to digest all of that. To be frank, you’d never quite bothered to take note of the boys’ individual personalities and interests, something that made you feel a little ashamed now, since it was clear that they’d been so conscientious about you.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, shooting Namjoon a small smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back at you, and feeling a lot better, you picked up the pastry box again.

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

“Report.”

“The target was dispatched, sir.” Jennie stood at attention in front of the imposing desk in the Head’s office. Her toes twitched uneasily in her boots, but her gaze remained resolute and steady.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.” With that, Master Bang looked back down at the papers on his desk.

Bowing, Jennie turned to see herself out. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she allowed herself to relax, sinking onto her knees right in front of her closed door. The bald-faced lie was the last favour she could do her ex-best friend. At least now Master Bang wouldn’t send anyone else after you… at least as long as you were smart enough to lay low.

The moment the door had shut behind Jennie, Master Bang stood up and made his way down the narrow flight of stairs in his bedroom.

“The plan is moving along smoothly, Sir. Y/n has thrown in her lot with the vampire brothers.” There was no way you were actually dead, as Jennie had reported. If you were, he would have a massacre on his hands, led by the born vampires holed up in the manor. Master Bang wondered idly if he should punish Jennie for her dishonesty, but then discarded the idea. He had much bigger fish to fry.

“When I take back my birthright, you will be by my side forever.”

The words warmed Master Bang’s heart. Forever was a long time – just long enough for him to spend with the love of his life.

#bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #ot7 x reader #ot7 fic #bts vampire au

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce.

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself.

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret.

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper.

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all.

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened.

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too?

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey."

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat.

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?"

#sorry i had to give it a happy ending #i hope thats okay #🥺🥺#kells totally snots all over Em's shirt even more #and they end up sitting there at the dinner table #Em shirtless and Kells grinning like an idiot #eating cold food and being utterly inlove until the intern finally shows up #em slipping him a good couple hundred dollar tip #emgk #asks

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zealouswerewolfcollector · 3 years

Text

Foiled Intentions

Russingon, 2215 words, M

On Ao3

Maedhros was behind the door, which at the moment appeared more impenetrable than the gates of Angband. Fingon stood and waited, a tiny part of him still hoping that Maedhros would open the door without him knocking. Maedhros knew he was there, Fingon was certain. But he wouldn’t, he would never open the door. He would pretend he couldn’t feel Fingon standing on the other side, his heartbeat loud enough to count as knocking. He would put another brick on the wall he had started to build between them almost as soon as he was able to think coherently.

If Fingon didn’t talk to him now, there was no telling when he would have another chance. Maedhros would leave for his camp, which was in the middle of packing, then they would ride to the East, so Maedhros could put physical distance between them too. Fingon couldn’t let it happen, not without trying to talk to him. He knocked.

The moment of waiting stretched as the endless night had over the Ice, and then Maedhros said: “Come in.”

He was getting ready for bed, leaning against the headboard with a book in hand, his hair bound in a bun on top of his head, the sleeves of his nightshirt loose and flowing. There was a sudden tremor in Fingon’s knees, so he bit his lip and centered his gaze on the headboard to avoid distractions.

“Were you looking for something?” Maedhros asked mildly.

“For you,” Fingon said, already frustrated by the dismissive tone.

“Well, you found me.” He didn’t sound very pleased about it. “What did you want? But make it quick, please, I am tired and I still have a council and a ride to my camp ahead tomorrow.”

He didn’t even offer Fingon to sit. He intended to do what he always did – to offer empty phrases, to feign weariness, and to send Fingon on his way. But not this time, Fingon wouldn’t let him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, slowly lowering his gaze from the headboard to Maedhros’s eyes.

“I presumed we had discussed everything at the meeting with your father today.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Drop the pretenses. You know what I mean. I am not going to leave until we have talked about us.”

Maedhros gave him an indulgent smile. “Oh, Fingon. Are you still on about that? I thought we had agreed that it was a bad idea.”

“We haven’t agreed on anything. You decided that it was, and even that I had to guess because you never told me. You just started to distance yourself from me, and you did it so stealthily that at first I didn’t notice.”

His voice didn’t quiver, but from the way Maedhros’s smile faded, Fingon knew his cousin had noticed the effort it took him to hold steady.

“I hate seeing you so miserable,” Maedhros said.

Those must have been the first sincere words Maedhros had spoken to him in months. Fingon decided to answer him in kind.

“You hold my happiness in your hands,” he said.

“Not a very secure place,” Maedhros said, raising his right arm.

Fingon didn’t flinch. “You know what I mean,” he repeated.

Maedhros ran a hand over his face. “You are determined to get what you want, aren’t you? All right, then.”

Without waiting for Fingon to confirm or deny the claim, he rose smoothly and stood before Fingon, too close for comfort. Fingon made to step away, but Maedhros’s hand was suddenly at the hem of his breeches.

“What are you doing?” Fingon asked when it was already too late, when he was naked from the waist to the knees.

“Can’t you guess?” Maedhros asked.

The only indication that Fingon wasn’t the only one affected was the color that rose along Maedhros’s neck.

“Sit,” Maedhros said.

He put his palm on Fingon’s chest, and Fingon dropped down on the bed. He opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t know what, but surely he had to. But then Maedhros knelt before him, squeezed his knee, lowered his head, and Fingon forgot all the words.

It lasted for an eternity, and simultaneously it was just a moment not long enough to blink. Fingon was hyperaware of everything – the coarseness of the woolen blanket under his fingers, Maedhros’s bun brushing against his stomach, Maedhros’s mouth on him – and at the same time, he was lost, absent from his own mind, drifting somewhere unreachable. He was nailed to the bed, he wouldn’t be able to move even if the world broke right at that moment, and yet he was rushing upwards with dizzying speed; or perhaps he was falling down; there was no way to tell, no sense of direction, nothing.

Someone was patting his thigh. He opened his eyes and saw Maedhros sitting on the floor in front of him, a teasing smile on his red lips. Fingon’s own lips were smarting. He must have bitten them to pieces. A few strands of Maedhros’s hair had been freed from his bun and had fallen down his face. Fingon must have done it. He recalled the softness of Maedhros’s hair in his hand but couldn’t remember the action of touching it.

He found himself smiling back carefully, still not willing to trust this sudden turn of events but hopeful that it was for the better.

“Happy now?” Maedhros said.

Even sinking underwater after stepping on a treacherous piece of ice hadn’t frozen him so swiftly and suddenly. If only Maedhros’s words had been taunting or resentful. But they were genuinely meant, and it was worse.

Maedhros’s face fell. “You are not happy,” he said. Slowly, he moved back on the bed, sat on it cross-legged, and stared at Fingon. “Tell me, then. Tell me what will make you happy, and let's finally be done with it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” Fingon said shallowly, mechanically, as if compelled by an external force. "I want all of you. I offer you all of me. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. But...” He licked his lips, cracked and wounded from biting. “If you do not want it, then neither do I. I don't just want you to make me happy, I want you to be happy too.”

“Fingon,” Maedhros said in a voice he hadn't used since Valinor, the one he saved for when Fingon said something endearing but entirely impossible.

I wish there would be a way to grow wings and fly like a bird, Fingon would say, I wish I could hold a star in my hand, I wish we could go away together, I wish your father would accept mine. And Maedhros would smile and say Fingon in that voice of his. And even though it was a denial of his wish, it was still a tender and fond one, so Fingon would sigh and bask in the particular flavor of tranquil happiness he felt whenever he was with Maedhros. It didn’t make him happy now. Now it made him livid.

“Fine!” he said, scrambling to his feet. “If you are so determined to make your own existence miserable, who am I to stand in your way? Wallow in your guilt and self-pity as long as you want. I will disturb you no longer.”

He turned to leave, but Maedhros caught his hand. A startled gasp left Fingon’s lips, and he stood still, heart pumping a furious, knife-sharp hope through his veins.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t leave angry.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to leave here still angry with me. It was not my intention to antagonize you. I hoped you would understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

“Fingon, you have seen as clearly as I have that our closeness brings you nothing but misery. To chase that closeness again is counter-logical, suicidal almost. I cannot allow that.”

“So our closeness just now that you initiated, incidentally, was what, a hallucination, a fluke?”

“I hoped that would be enough for you, and we would put an end to this.”

Fingon snatched his hand away and rounded on Maedhros. “Are you serious? Who do you think I am? Do you even realize how condescending, how insulting that sounds?”

“That wasn’t—”

“Your intention, I know! Nonetheless, it was what it was. Stop it. Just tell me you don’t want this, and I will leave. I will understand. I will know it’s not what you want, and I will adapt. No reasons, no justifications, no explanations of why it would be a bad idea. Just tell me your heart doesn’t want me. Can you? Can you do it?”

“Fingon,” Maedhros said patiently, as though Fingon was a child and not even a particularly bright one.

“Stop it!” Fingon exclaimed. “I know what I want. I know what it means. Did you really believe that you could throw me a bone and be done with it? Is that who you think I am? Is that all I am to you? I just want to talk to you about us, not even about us, about anything except strategy and politics without you pushing me away in that infuriating way of yours that screams for everyone to hear that you know better. For all your humble act, that’s awfully arrogant. I did what I did knowingly. I want what I want knowingly. You didn’t force my hand in Alqualondë.

“No,” he cried before Maedhros would interrupt him to object. “You didn’t. I did it by my own free will. I crossed the Helcaraxë because I wanted to. I reached Thangorodrim because I wanted to. Not everything is about you, you know? Can’t you respect me enough to treat me as anything else but a reckless youngster chasing after his fleeting desires? Even now, after everything that happened? Why does your opinion in this matter prevail over mine when it’s about my feelings and my desires? Why are you so sure you are right, and I am wrong? Why do you think I don’t know what I am choosing and you do? If I asked you if you truly believe yourself so wise, you would spare no ugly word to disparage yourself. And yet here you are, acting as if I know nothing and you know everything.”

His voice was threatening to break, so he stopped shouting. In the silence, the only sound was his harsh breathing. Maedhros had his eyes shut tightly, and Fingon worried that he had gone too far. Then Maedhros sagged against the pillows and raised his head to look at him.

“You are right,” he said.

The shock of those three words almost knocked Fingon out. “What.”

“You are right. I treated you irreverently. I was condescending and insulting, and I am sorry.”

Fingon hated that he couldn’t tell if Maedhros spoke true, or if Fingon had just bullied him into surrender. He had done that before, during Maedhros’s recovery. Had had to do that for Maedhros’s own sake, had pestered him to eat, to sleep, to accept medicine so stubbornly that Maedhros often had just said yes, so he would be left alone.

He couldn’t ask, though. If he did, Maedhros would just deny it, even to himself.

“I am sorry for shouting,” he said instead, sitting on the bed.

“You had a point.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have.”

Maedhros smiled weakly. “Apology accepted. Do you accept mine?”

“What does it mean for us?” Fingon asked cautiously.

“What do you want it to mean?”

“What do you intend it to mean?”

“Fingon,” Maedhros laughed. “After your impassioned speech about knowing what you want, I would think you would be bolder.”

“Fine,” Fingon said. If he wanted Maedhros to trust him, he had to extend the same trust to Maedhros and accept that his words weren’t just the weary response of someone who didn’t want to be yelled at anymore. “I told you what I want. I want you not to push me away if your heart desires me. No matter what you believe is sensible or right, if your heart tells you so, I want you to let me be yours.”

“All right.”

“All right? That’s it?”

“Well, I still don’t think trusting my heart is a good idea. But that’s what my mind is telling me, and I don’t trust it either. So I will trust you as I should have done from the beginning. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

Fingon sighed. “Not really, but I’ll take it.”

Maedhros thought for a moment. “Good enough,” he said. “Well? Do we have an agreement then?”

“We do.”

“And if my heart wants to have you in my arms, should I listen to it?”

“You should.”

“I’m going to trust you on that.”

Fingon tried not to smile, still disoriented from the sudden change and not a little angry, but it was so hard when Maedhros was smiling, when Maedhros was reaching for him, when Maedhros was wrapping his arms around him, leaning his head against Fingon’s temple and pressing his lips to his jaw. He stopped fighting, releasing a breath and with it all the remaining anger and worries, and then turned his face to catch Maedhros’s lips.

#fingon #maedhros #russingon #silmarillion #here's my fic for april #it's not the one i thought i'd write #but i still did it so i'm happy #pretty self-indulgent i have to say #yes this is the clown fic #i actually thought if i could do maedhros's line in comic sans #i don't know what's with me and making my otp argue #at least they make up in this one?#zwc fic

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amazingdriverfics · 4 years

Note

Hello! I have another request in mind: instead of Rey being captured by Kylo like in interrogation scene in the Force Awakens, it's his best friend from when they were training as Jedi with Luke Skywalker. She's with the Resistance and he's with the First Order. They're supposed to be enemies but after all this time, they still love each other. And Kylo, pleads her to join him and she does because she's never felt at home with the Resistance even though Poe was her friend. Kylo was her home and she loves him. I hope this is okay!

A/N: hey love, I hope you are doing alright. I’m really sorry that it took me so long to get it done, but I wanted for it to be good even if it meant having to wait a bit longer to post.

I hope you enjoy it very much, I wrote with love, thank you for your support and request.

Warnings: mentions of fight and death (they are very short)

My masterlist

Your heart is racing, it almost feels like it is about to explode off of your chest, the anxiety pumping in your veins is enough to distract you from the discomfort your body is experiencing, to forget that you can barely move attached on a metallic surface with your hands and legs restrained, to completely erase from your mind that you are covered in ashes and dried tears from all the chaos you had seen a couple of hours ago. None of that matters when you know you are finally going to meet Kylo Ren and very likely meet your death at the other end of the red lightsaber you watched kill so many not too long ago.

The man doesn’t come for a long time anyway and you think to yourself that the time he is taking might just be torture itself, you are hyperaware of the enviroment you are in - a dark room with nothing but a lamp and you - as well as the things going outside, every sound makes you want to cry and evey tiny movement you can see through the small space under the door makes your heart skip a beat. You try to calm yourself as Master Luke had thought you many years before, but it was impossible, every time you tried to focus on your breathing patterns some noise got in the way, to make things worse one of the cuffs keeping you on the metallic surface doesn’t allow you to use the force, leaving you defenceless to face Kylo Ren.

Nonetheless, you decide to give meditation one last try, if the dark knight was such a good force user as the rumours said, you would need all the focus you could possibly find to keep him off of your memories, to protect Poe and the Resistance. You try to focus only on your breathing, inhaling and exhaling loudly so you could hopefully drown the other sounds and you allow yourself for the first time to start accessing your body, imagining the oxygen you inhaled going through your bloodstream and getting to every single cell, filling them with life.

When you feel like you are finally managing to calm yourself down, you listen to the door opening and you instantly open your eyes. The first thing you see is a tall black figure using a lifeless mask that had been haunting your thoughts ever since you got captured by the stormtroopers, the second thing you see is the lightsaber on his belt and it makes you swallow dry, all the calmness you had been trying to find vanishing and turning into fear.

You watch as he walks towards you with long and insecure strides and it shocks you. Of everything you imagined Kylo Ren to be like - a monster, a soulless creature, a sadist - insecure definitely wasn’t on the list. His behavior however fills you up with a courage you had left in the spot you were captured.

As he gets closer you allow your instincts to take control, your mouth moving before you could possibly think that it wasn’t the wisest decision. “You aren’t going to get anything from me, you might as well kill me now, monster”.

You wait for a answer that doesn’t come, all Kylo Ren does is stop near the surface you are restrained on and all you can hear is the mechanic sound of breathing coming from his stupid mask as you turn your head towards it, ready to challenge the man once again.

“And take this disgusting thing off your face, I don’t talk to cowards in masks”.

Much to your surprise, you don’t feel excruciating pain, but you watch as his gloved hands travel to the sides of his helmet, the next thing you listen is the sound of pressured air leaving the inside of it. When you finally see his face, your heart beats faster, but, this time, for all the wrong reasons.

——————————————————————————

“Come y/n, the water is amazing” Ben yells at you, the most perfect smile adorning his features.

You run towards the lake in your underwear as your eyes focus on Ben, you watch as his soaked dark hair touches his face, and water droplets fall on his face and on his torso, the sight making your heart skip beats, he was truly the most beautiful being you had ever laid eyes on.

Stars, you loved Ben Solo with every atom in your body.

——————————————————————————

“Ben” you whisper, eyes filling with tears as you remember yourself of all you lived with him. You knew he had disappeared after the Jedi Temple burned, you had even mourned Ben, believing you would never see the man that you loved for so long again, your true home and family, your soulmate. “What happened to you?” you ask trying to reach for him, going against your better judgment.

He sighs as you look into his dark eyes, trying to figure out the emotion behind it, something you could do so easily when you were younger, but now that barely knew him anymore it proved to be an incredibly hard task.

“Luke tried to kill me” he confesses and you don’t know what shocks you the most, hearing the sound of his deep voice years later the last time you saw him or finding out that one of the man you looked up to the most as you grew older tried to murder Ben, his neffew, the sweet boy you fell for and the boy who had gone through hell as he tried to discover himself.

“Oh Ben, why didn’t you tell me? When did it happen?” As you talk to Ben, you forget you are stuck in a table and that you are his prisoner, not his lover.

He closes his eyes and his hands into fists before answering you.

“That night when I burned the temple” he says before pausing, his eyes watching your every reaction as you assimilate that it was your Ben who burned the temple, not any Sith or Snoke himself, but Ben. “And no matter how much it hurt me to leave you behind, I just couldn’t bring myself to take you with me into the Order, into Snoke’s hand, I needed you to stay alive”.

His words make you cry, make you sob, all your discoveries becoming overwhelming, seeing Ben alive after mourning him all too much. Before you can even process it, his gloved hand is in your cheek, caressing your skin lightly as a way to soothe your ache and you know you should hate him, you know he was supposed to be your enemy, but as you feel his touch once again, you fell like the little girl who fell for Ben Solo.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed you, little one” he confesses, his hand not leaving your face. All of a sudden you feel as your restraints open, your body almost escaping the surface until Ben holds you with the force, slowly allowing you to get your feet on the ground. “Now that you’re here with me again, I don’t know if I could ever let you go again”.

As the words leave his mouth, Ben gets up walking towards you, his hand that just left your face travels to your waist, his eyes filled with so much emotion looking directly into your teary ones. You know you should say no, that you should say that your home is with the Resistance, that you could never be with an Order so evil and destructive, but it would be all a lie. Your home was with Ben, it always had been and it always would be, you always loved him and you were sure that you would never ever stop loving him, no matter how much Poe tried to make you feel included at the Resistance, there was nothing in the Galaxy that could make you feel like Ben.

“Join me” he pleads and it doesn’t take you two seconds before whispering a ‘yes’ and nod, your face leaning towards his, your lips searching for his.

When your lips meet his and your tongues finally touch his, it feels like fireworks explode in your body, almost like time stands still, like the whole Universe was watching as two soulmates find their way back to each other again.

As the two of you part and you look into your eyes you whisper: “You’ll always be my home, Ben”.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #request #adam driver #star wars #lovinghufflepuffgirl

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elysianslove · 4 years

Note

Teaching Reki how to touch you....I WOULD LIKE TO SEE IT!!! YES MAAM, BASOLUTELY I WOULD!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING FOR IT,,, i didn’t wanna be annoying </3 BUT THANK YOU BDJHSFDS LET ME INDULGE YOU!

clarifying again: reki is aged up. he is not a minor. thank you :)

okay so! after he’d, embarrassingly, cum in his pants from barely any dry humping, he’d shyly asked if he could return the favor. and you wanted him to; of course you did. but you couldn’t help but feel like he felt obligated to, almost a little pressured. you’d wanted to be sure that if he really were to do anything with you, it’d be because he genuinely wanted to, not because he felt as if he was expected to.

so you promise him, one day. not today, my love, but one day.

and he takes it to heart. reki’s as impatient as ever when it comes to loving you, so he becomes hyperaware of everything when the two of you are alone, looking for any sign that you’re willing to let him touch you, because consent is important, because he wants you to initiate it, because he’s already way too embarrassed with how needy he’d been. and eventually, one day, as you’re kissing him a little too roughly, seated on his lap as he presses his back against the wall by his bed, you pull back, and ask him breathlessly, “do you want to touch me?”

and he’s never felt his heart drop to his stomach so quickly, so suddenly. he’s kissing you again before you know it, whispering and gasping, “yes, yes, please,” as his hands carefully roam your body.

consent from either of you now vocalized, you lift yourself up off his lap, before falling back onto his pillows, one hand reaching out for him. he crawls to your side eagerly, curiously, up, up, up, till his face hovers by yours directly. he kisses you, softly, sweetly, tentatively, his hand ghosting over your body like he’s clueless, like he doesn’t know where to put it. and finally, finally, your hand reaches out for it, and you grab his palm. mouth still on his, you guide his hand beneath your shirt, so, so slowly, dragging it up till his fingers brush against your bra.

reki gasps, properly, against your lips, pulling back with wide eyes as you continue to bring his hand closer till it rests directly on your breast. his eyes widen with every second, pupils blown and mouth parted slightly in silent shock. and with your hand placed on top of his, just as you pull him in for another kiss, you squeeze, and he shudders above you, like you’re the one touching him.

for minutes on end, you kiss as he squeezes at your breast, finally finding the courage somewhere in between to pull down at your bra slightly to tease at your nipples. it feels so— surreal. like you’re having an out of body experience. the way he’s so slow and gentle and soft and quiet with you. it makes your skin burn with how soft he is with you. and the more you mewl and whine for him, the more confident he gets, the gentler he is with you. his movements feel a lot more practiced, less clumsy and shaky as he kisses at your neck and pulls at your nipples.

till his hands wanders away, trailing down your stomach, settling at the hem of your trousers. “can i?” he asks, in a low voice, and you nod, so quickly it makes you dizzy.

“please,” you encourage him, and slowly, carefully, his once again shaky hands dip beneath the hem of your shorts. his lips find your neck as he teases the outline of your underwear, and you can’t decide whether it’s deliberate or not until he speaks up.

“tell me what to do, pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, by your ear. “i wanna make you— i want you to feel— feel good.”

and so, once again, you guide him, this time with your voice. his head lifts up from your neck to observe you as you urge him to push his fingers past the barrier of your underwear, to dip lower and lower. when his fingers brush against your wetness, he gasps, eyes flickering down to where his hand is buried then back up at you.

“all for you,” you sigh, and he swears he nearly came in his pants again.

his fingers brush slowly along your folds, collecting more of your arousal, riling you up. you can feel your skin heating up by the second; the fact that this boy, as inexperienced and clueless as he is, had his hands between your thighs, looking so mesmerized and in awe of every little twitch your body makes and every tiny sound that escapes your lips is so arousing.

“you can— reki, you can push them inside— ah! slowly!”

he’d gotten a little too overexcited when he’d heard the words, a finger quickly making its way down to your hole, trying to push in. but he pauses, steels himself, listens to your advice. he wants to make you feel good, he repeats in his head, he wants to make you feel real good. his finger pushes in slowly, and god, it’s such a weird feeling. weird, but good. so good. he can feel you tightening around him as he pushes in, and you’re so warm and hot and tight and wet it’s all going straight to his dick.

he exhales a shuddering breath as he pushes his finger in as deep as he can, pulling it out slowly and pushing it back in, leisurely fingering you until you mewl out a small, “more,” and he follows your instructions, adding another finger. you squirm beneath him as he stretches you out even more, thick fingers pumping in and out of you.

“reki, c-curl them, please,” you sigh, and he stifles a moan, bring his lips to your own, kissing your mouth, the corner of your lips, down to your jaw as he attempts to curl his fingers inside of you, tightly.

“like this?” he breathlessly wonders, and the squeak of surprise and pleasure that spills from your lips when he experimentally presses inside of you is an answer enough. this is so surreal. so surreal. so, so surreal. he’s fingering you, and you’re tightening around him— god, were you about to cum? is he going to make you cum?

your chest heaves as your hands fly to his biceps, one trailing down to his forearm, gripping near the wrist that twists inside of you tightly. “my clit,” you whine. “use your thumb.”

and he grunts, nodding firmly as his thumb clumsily finds your clit. it takes him a few seconds to get it accurate, and you can tell he’s frustrated by the furrow of his brows and the roughness of the fingers inside of you, but all you do is grind and roll your hips upwards, until finally, finally, he gets it, and he knows he does because you impossibly tighten around him and you scream.

“ugh, fuck, gonna cum,” is your only warning, before seconds later, he’s sending you over the edge, wrist twisting quickly and fingers thrusting harshly inside of you, thumb rubbing and pressing down on your clit. you throw your head back, crying and gasping and moaning for him, legs trembling and hips attempting to meet his thrusts as he helps you ride out your high.

he’s in complete awe of you as you cum. he can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you look, about how pretty you sound, about how he’d been the one to make you cum. he made you cum, and he made you cum so good. you’re telling him that much, praising him, thanking him, and he’s in love.

he can’t stop thinking about you. but also about how he’s painfully hard in his pants.

he sighs dreamily.

#sk8 x reader #sk8 infinity x reader #sk8 smut #sk8 infinity smut #sk8 x reader smut #reki x reader #reki smut #sal's thirst tag <3

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thewickedkings · 4 years

Text

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 4

Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

It was Thursday morning, and Jude’s nerves thrummed with anticipation. She leaned against a pillar in the school hallway, slowly sipping her coffee. Students milled about, grabbing their books before first period, and Jude stood still, waiting.

Any minute now.

Her eyes caught a head of dark curls in the crowd, and she smiled. Cardan walked obliviously towards their first period class, maneuvering swiftly through the clusters of lingering students.

And then came Amanda Williams from the other end of the hallway, striding purposefully towards Cardan. Amanda Williams was perhaps the most ambitious student in the school, involved in almost every single club in the school and volunteering in all her free time. Jude both admired her and feared her.

Amanda approached Cardan, and Jude watched the scene play out from afar. It made it exceedingly funnier that she couldn’t actually hear what they were saying but had to go off Cardan’s confused, awkward smile and Emily’s enthusiastic hand gestures.

She nearly snorted her coffee when Cardan started backing away, his hands held up in confusion, while Emily followed him unrelentingly.

The bell rang, and Cardan took the opportunity to bolt. He turned around, heading in her direction, but Jude slipped into the crowd before he could spot her.

By the time Jude got to her fifth period class, Jude’s spirits were exceptionally high. She took out her fancy colored pens out from her pencil case cheerfully while she waited for class to begin.

Her careful organization was interrupted when Cardan barged in, storming towards her desk.

“Duarte, you are going to pay for this,” he seethed. He slammed a Save the Turtles flyer on her desk.

“For what?” she responded innocently, rearranging her pens on her desk noncommittally. She looked down at the flyer. “Awww, this turtle’s so adorable. I didn’t know you cared about endangered species. Maybe you do have a heart somewhere in there.”

His palms flattened on her desk as he towered over her. “Jude, I do not have the time to convince thirty people that no, I did not start a club to save the sea turtles, and no, I didn’t know who put up flyers with my name and email on it all over the school saying I did.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Except wait, I did know.”

It took everything she had not to laugh in his face. She silently thanked the girls she had overheard at lunch a few days ago having a passionate conversation about saving the turtles and metal straws. Still seething from the coffee incident, a plan had begun to form in Jude’s mind. After 10 minutes designing a flyer with a cute little sea turtle and a trip to the school printer, Jude’s plan was in place.

She kept her expression completely serious. “That must have been so hard for you. People can be so annoying sometimes. Just last week, some guy knocked over my coffee, and he didn’t even apologize. Can you imagine?” She bit her lip to stop her smile.

Cardan’s dark eyes flashed. “Jude, I swear I’m going to-”

“Mr. Greenbriar, it seems you’re in the wrong class,” the teacher interrupted.

Jude chirped in. “Sorry. He was just telling me about the club he was starting to save the sea turtles. He’s very passionate about it.”

The lethal glare Cardan sent her way promised vengeance, and she felt a tingle make its way up her spine.

He swallowed, unclenching his fists. When he turned back to the teacher, his expression cleared. “Sorry. Just clarifying something. I’ll leave right now.”

He walked over to the door and shut it carefully behind him, as if resisting the urge to slam it.

Jude leaned back in her chair, satisfaction thrumming through her. Pissing off Cardan just so, so fun.

~~~

Jude’s breath came out in pants as she sat on the bench and drank from her water bottle. The soccer game was tied with five minutes to go, and it was taking everything Jude’s team had to keep it that way. Tisdale High was much more formidable than Jude had expected, and Jude’s team was barely managing to stop all their goals, much less make any of their own.

The referee blew the whistle, and Jude wiped her brow and went back into the game with a renewed vigor. She wasn’t going to settle for a tie, not yet at least.

Jude had started soccer in her freshman year so she could have an extracurricular on her resume and to have some sort of stress-relief, but she’d come to love the adrenaline that came with the sport.

The clock ticked as a girl with neon orange cleats stole the ball from their team again. When the girl made to pass the ball across the field, Jude anticipated her move and shot forward, blocking the ball before it could reach her teammate.

With the ball back in their possession, Jude dribbled up the field, working the ball around the defense. Out of the corner of her eye, Jude saw Nicasia standing to the left of the goal, the perfect angle to make a goal.

Jude hesitated. Just last week, Nicasia had chosen to take a shot for a near-impossible goal instead of passing to Jude, who had been in a clear spot to make the point. They had ended up winning after Jude had scored a goal in the last half, but Jude was angry that Nicasia had brought their antagonism to the field. She’d thought they’d gotten over their differences, but apparently they hadn’t.

All this passed through Jude’s head in a split second. The defense player she had tripped out was gaining on her, and Jude had to make a decision.

In a move they’d trained hundreds of times in practice, Jude faked right and then passed to Nicasia. Nicasia shot the ball straight into the net, and the crowd broke into cheers. Apparently, there was little Jude wouldn’t do if it meant winning.

As the team swarmed her, Jude walked the other way to the side of the field. Just because she had let Nicasia make the goal didn’t mean she would be happy about it.

She flopped onto the grass, letting the adrenaline of the game fade. She looked up at the soft crunch of grass next to her.

“Hey, that was a good game you played. Your pass basically saved the game,” said Locke, sitting down next to her.

“Thanks,” Jude replied, shrugging. His arm grazed hers, and Jude remembered what the Bomb had said, and wondered if her words could be true, if Locke could actually be interested in her.

She suddenly felt self-conscious about the sweat on her body and hoped she didn’t smell too bad. “Do you come to watch our games a lot?”

“I come every once in a while. But I’ve started to come a lot more recently,” he said, giving her a meaningful look.

“Oh.” Jude flushed. Ok, so maybe he was interested in her.

Locke ran his hand through his hair. “Ok, so the real reason I came today was because I was wondering if you would maybe want to get dinner with me tomorrow? Like a… date?”

“Really?” Jude said, before quickly adding, “I mean, yeah, sure!”

Locke grinned at her, and Jude’s mood immediately rose. It was definitely nice to have a guy’s attention, to feel wanted.

After they exchanged numbers, Jude walked over to the bleachers where Vivi and Oak sat. Oak was waiting at the bottom for her.

“Jude, that pass was so good! You stole the ball and then faked to the right, and then…” he chattered excitedly, mimicking her performance with a practice soccer ball.

She felt a rush of affection for him and ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Oakey.” Even though they weren’t related through blood, Jude loved him more than anything.

She spotted Vivi on her phone at the top of the bleachers but stopped when she saw who was sitting in the second row.

“Nice pass,” Cardan said wryly, leaning back and stretching his legs. “No goals today?”

Jude’s eyes narrowed. All of the anger he had shown on Thursday was mysteriously absent from his eyes, meaning he had something planned.

She ignored his comment and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t show some school spirit?”

“No.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Ok, ok, there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” She didn’t have the patience for Cardan’s antics right now. She was in actually in a good mood after Locke had asked her out and wanted it to last.

She moved to maneuver around him, but he snagged her wrist. “Wait.”

She paused at the touch, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers.

When he noticed her gaze on his hand, he dropped her hand as quickly as he had grabbed it. “I need your number for the project.”

She looked at him suspiciously, wondering if this was for one of his schemes.

“Jude, we have assignments due. How else are we supposed to communicate?”

“Fine. Give me your phone.”

He pulled it out of his pocket and stood up, and suddenly they were standing too close, only mere inches separating them. She shuffled backwards, forgetting they were on bleachers, and the back of her thighs hit the row behind her. She stumbled, her hand flying out instinctively and grabbing Cardan’s arm for balance.

She quickly pulled her hand away, but not before she felt the muscle beneath her palm. Her body suddenly became hyperaware of his physicality, making her cheeks burn.

“If you wanted to touch me, you don’t have to pretend to fall over.” He looked down at her, eyes sparking playfully. His voice was low, just for her, and she swallowed and stepped back farther.

“I didn’t pretend to fall over,” she shot back without thinking, unnecessarily flustered. This conversation was quickly veering out of her control.

He looked at her teasingly, as if he knew what effect he was having on her. “Right.”

“Just give me your phone.” She quickly typed her number in and gave it back to him. “There.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, Jude?”

Something about the way he said her name grated on her nerves. Instead of responding to him, she lifted her middle finger at him from behind her back as she climbed past him on the bleachers, and Cardan laughed.

When she reached Vivi’s spot on the bleachers, Vivi gave her a curious look, but she just mumbled, “Let’s go home.”

As Oak chattered to Vivi on the car ride home, Jude slumped back into her seat, her feet sore after a long day at school and a grueling game. Her mind wandered aimlessly, and Jude found her thoughts repeatedly flitting back to a certain boy, and it wasn’t the one who had asked her out.

A/N: I hope you guys like the chapter!! We love to see Jude and Cardan being ‘enemies’ and pissing each other off. This scene literally came to me at 4 am and I had to get up and write it.

I also mentioned the endangered sea turtles in this so if you’re interested in learning more, here’s a link to a post with more information about the struggles of green sea turtles and what you can do to help :)

Tagging: (Some tags didn’t work. I don’t know why, it might be your settings or just tumblr acting up, but I’ll tag you in the comments for now! If I forgot to tag you our messed something up, just send me an ask and I’ll fix it as soon as I can!)

@jurdan7 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @aneuwin @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9 @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife @aknymph @clouds-and-peonies @thefolkofthefic

#between the two of us #chapter 4 #wow i actually wrote something #the cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #Folk of the Air #jurdan #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #tfota fic #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar

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ikeromantic · 4 years

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7 Deadly Dates

Dates in the Devildom with each of the brothers! Approx. 1500 words. Fluff and spice, a little NSFW at points.

The Netflix and Chill:

Let’s face it, Belphie is a netflix and chill kind of demon. He texts you to come up to his room, and when you arrive, he’s got pillows scattered all over the floor. Different sizes, shapes, and colors. When you look confused, he shakes his head. “It’s a pillow-testing date. How am I supposed to know which one is the most comfortable if we don’t try them all out?” His mock annoyance ends the moment you awkwardly lay your head on one of the pillows to check it for him. It's amazingly comfortable. All of them are. You close your eyes to just enjoy the softness but before you can really relax, Belphie plops down beside you, resting his head inches from your face. You open your eyes to see him studying you. A part of you thinks you ought to move, try out a different pillow or something. But your body feels pleasantly heavy and warm, and there is something so gentle in his normally disinterested gaze. You want to stay where you are and savor the moment. “Do you like it?” His breath smells like peppermint and lavender. It tickles your cheek. He smiles. “Should we try out the other pillows,” you ask after your heart calms down again. “Let’s stay like this awhile longer,” he tells you, and snuggles closer.

The Buffet:

Beel asks you to meet him in town. The word ‘date’ never crosses his lips in making plans with you, but the way he keeps putting an arm around your shoulders - your waist - holding your hand - are way more than just brotherly affection. When he begins the tour of Devildom restaurants, cafes, and confectionaries, you think you know what you’re in for. It still surprises you when Beel offers you a spoonful of Madame Scream’s seasonal parfait. He blushes at the way you close your lips over the spoon and shivers when you lick a bit of cream off your fingertip. So you feel pretty in control of the flirting on this not-date-date. Right up until he takes you home. You expect a goodnight kiss, something sweet from the brother that’s as close to an angel as a devil gets. Instead, he pushes you against the wall, lips and teeth on your neck. Your cry of pleasure and surprise urge him on. He unwraps you faster than a human world cheeseburger. You didn’t realize clothes could tear like paper. You also didn’t realize the Avatar of Gluttony could be so hungry for something other than food.

The Spa Day:

Asmodeus invites you for a spa day. You fully expect this means getting a facial, mani-pedi, maybe a massage. What you don’t expect is getting this treatment from the Avatar of Lust himself. He hands you a robe when you show up, a thin bit of barely opaque silk that hangs to your midthigh. Asmo is already wearing one and damn . . . it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. You find yourself blushing. He starts the treatment with your hands. He smooths the tension from your palm and fingers, and sends little streaks of pleasure through your body. That’s just the appetizer. He gently applies cleansers and a moisture mask to your face, murmuring how beautiful you are, how soft your skin. When he lays you down for a massage, you’re pretty sure it’s time to die from pure bliss. The feel of him peeling the robe off your back. He straddles you. It’s impossible not to notice how excited he is to be so close. The cool air and his warm touch, the way his hips rock against you as he moves. Asmo rubs little circles in your skin, starting at the top of your spine, slowly moving out and down. The lightest brush of fingertips against the side of your chest is like fire. By the time he makes it to your ass and thighs, you feel like you’ve melted and at the same time, you’re trembling with desire. Just the way he wanted you.

The Cat Walk:

Satan asks you out for an evening stroll and maybe a coffee. You meet him in front of the House of Lamentation and he hands you a paper bag. You open it and find cat treats. He chuckles and tells you it’s not for you. Honestly, you’re a little disappointed at first, but he holds your hand as he takes you around the Devildom and tells you stories about all the places you walk past. He stops in alleyways and little parks along the way. In each spot, he has you open the bag and hold out a handful of the kibble inside. When the cats come up to eat some, he introduces you to each of them. The cats are adorable. When the treats run out, he takes you to a coffee shop that has a closed sign up, but when he knocks, the owner opens it just for the two of you. He serves you coffee and pastries, and tells Satan to lock up when you get ready to leave, since he’s headed home. Alone now, you sit together on a plush little couch, legs touching. He smiles when he sees your faint blush, and pulls you into his lap. You try to protest, but he nuzzles your neck and nips you. “What if someone sees,” you ask, gesturing to the window. “What if they do?” You don’t have an answer to that, and honestly don’t care after a few more of those nips and kisses.

The Cosplay Karaoke:

Leviathan doesn’t ask you on a date - date’s are for normies. But he does ask you if you want to hang out and watch every live performance of Sucre Frenzy from last year. When you get there, you find out he didn’t mean watch, exactly. He meant dress up and sing along. He hands you a costume to change into. Levi turns around so you can have some privacy to change, but you see him sneaking glances over his shoulder, and wiping at a lowkey nosebleed. He starts to teach you the moves, first demonstrating, and then you repeat. Levi adjusts your arm, and the tilt of your hip, the position of your foot, and the height of your chin. His hands are cool against your skin, and you are hyperaware of how close he is. He freezes mid sentence, his thumb under your chin, fingers resting on your cheek. “S-s-sorry,” he stammers, blushing from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears. Teasing, you lean forward and brush the lightest of kisses across his lips. “Teach me, senpai,” you whisper. And he does. Like a hentai flashflood, his tentacles are all over you, his lips on yours, eyes shut tight because he can’t honestly believe it’s really happening.

The Shopping Trip:

Mammon surprises you with a day shopping in the Devildom’s fashion district. The label he models for offered him free clothes as part of his last photo shoot payment, and he wants to pick out something for you. It’s very sweet, coming from the Avatar of Greed. You look at several really nice dresses but after trying several on, Mammon says they’re all boring. Then you look at some shirts, but he doesn’t like them either. Finally, tired of picking things, you tell Mammon to choose something for you. Something he likes, since he didn’t like any of the clothes you tried so far. He brings you a dainty pink corset and the tiniest pair of matching silk boy shorts. You look at them and back at him. “Seriously?” He blushes and rubs a hand through his hair. “I wanted ta pick something I’d enjoy taking off of ya,” he mumbles. The corset and panties come home with you. After all, how can you say no to that?

The JetSet:

Lucifer is not at all shy about asking you on a date. He shows up after class with a red rose in hand and invites you out. When you agree, he tells you he already sent clothes to your room, and he’ll meet you in an hour in the front hall. The dress he picked is a tailored little black dress, simple, elegant, and a perfect fit, with matching shoes and a tiny, ruby red handbag. When you meet him, he looks you over with a satisfied smile. “I feel like your doll,” you half-heartedly complain. He chuckles as he takes out a choker, hung with a ruby the size of your thumb. He puts it on you, leaving a little kiss above the clasp at the back of your neck. “My perfect doll.” The evening starts at an exclusive wine bar you didn’t even know existed. Followed by dinner in the reserved section of Ristorante Six. Then he takes you to a piano concerto where the haunting melodies summon actual ghosts. You stay safe, wrapped in his arms, through the performance. When it ends, he doesn’t let you go. He carries you home, to his room. “Luci? Am I sleeping here tonight?” He grins at you wickedly. “I find that I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” He strips you of everything but the choker, enjoying the way you squirm at the slightest touch of his fingers. He tells you to hold still, then kisses your ticklish spots. When you move, because of course you do, he laughs and puts you over his knee for punishment. The light sting of a slap on your ass, followed by a kiss. You tell him it doesn’t make you want to be very obedient. The fire in his gaze tells you he thought you might say that. The date takes you a few days to recover from, but you can’t wait til the next one.

#obey me #lucifer #mammon #asmodeus #leviathan #satan #beelzebub #belphegor #om shall we date #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

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supremeuppityone · 4 years

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Chapter 116: The Moral in the Mafia

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Mafia AU.

You can read the sequel here.

So what if she got mugged and her mother’s ring was stolen? Caroline’s never been one to back down, and she heard the local mob boss might be an honorable criminal...

Warning: Some violence.

“Judges, lawyers and politicians have a license to steal. We don’t need one.”

— Carlo Gambino

There should be a special place in hell for morning people. Unfortunately, the best time to take advantage of the natural beauty found within the golden hour was the brief period immediately after sunrise. Caroline grumbled as she set up her phone camera, finding the perfect angle nestled in the elbow of the bronze statue. She was in Jackson Square to capture her new workout routine for Sassy Sunshine, her positivity blog, and as much as she disliked mornings, she knew her subscribers would appreciate seeing the beauty of New Orleans at first light.

A noise startled her, but she only spared a casual glance around the empty park before resuming her warmup. Putting on a smile, she opened her mouth to begin her monologue with her signature phrase, ‘sunshine starts with you,’ when an arm unexpectedly shot out, choking her. Heart hammering in her chest, she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Blue eyes wide and fearful, she couldn’t help but notice the edge of a ferocious-looking wolf tattoo winding its way along the pale forearm that grabbed her.

She stopped struggling as she realized it was the signature mark of the most notorious mafia in the south. “What do you want,” Caroline asked, hating how her voice wavered.

“Your ring, to start,” he rasped, the cold, emotionless tone making her shiver.

He roughly spun her around, and she quickly lashed out with her sneaker, catching him in the balls. “Bitch,” he grunted, doubling over briefly. Unfortunately, he still managed to catch her as she tried to run away, his fist glancing off of her cheek.

Caroline cried out as fire exploded across her face, and she understood why after she spied the gaudy silver ring on his finger. He reached for her, brown eyes glittering with malice, and in an instant, she was frozen. The darkness she read in his gaze. His intentions.

Fortunately, several joggers came into the park, and her assailant cursed as whatever terrible things he’d planned had been foiled. Lunging forward, he grabbed her hand, wrenching off her ring as painfully as possible. Her mother’s ring! “No, stop,” she screamed as he ran off, holding her hand to her chest as the knuckle throbbed and bled. The joggers uselessly stared, then resumed their morning workout as though nothing had happened.

Seriously?! Caroline was furious and frightened and practically vibrating in her skin as she started throwing all of her gear back into her tote bag. It was when she grabbed her phone that she realized the video had been recording the entire attack. Got him. She briefly considered rushing it to the police and filing a report, but that idea lost its luster when she reminded herself of who she was dealing with. Klaus Mikaelson.

As the formidable mob boss of the notorious Mikaelsons, he ran the south, and everyone knew that he’d made New Orleans his personal playground. He had the cops in his pocket, and all but the worst of criminals dared to cross him and his family. However, there were whispers that despite his fearsome reputation, at times he could be honorable. Attacking an unarmed woman didn’t seem like something Klaus would sanction. Normally, she’d never behave so recklessly, but she didn’t have a choice. She was getting back her mother’s ring.

Despite the rumors she’d indulged in over the years, she had no idea what Klaus looked like, and only a vague idea of how to find him. Lightly touching her cheek, she winced, hoping the black eye that bastard probably gave her wouldn’t be more than her concealer could handle — the last thing she wanted to do was answer awkward questions from her blog followers. Although a run-in with the mafia might do wonders for her blog stats. She hopped on her bike, pleased that at this time of day, Decatur Street was nearly deserted and she could take it most of the way to the Port of New Orleans.

Everyone knew that the Mikaelsons controlled the port — nothing got in or out of this city without their approval. Klaus’ people always could be found there in the heart of his territory. She smartly steered her bike past the shadowy stacks of enormous industrial containers, knowing better than to attract the attention of some sleazy wharf rat lurking in a dark corner. Once she arrived at the more populated (and slightly safer) cruise terminal, she chained her bike to a rack and casually glanced around.

She noticed the dealer before he saw her, and she rolled her eyes at his incompetence. Isn’t that part of their job to be hyperaware of what’s going on around them? She wondered how the entire Mikaelson organization ran on such poor hiring practices. She kept her eye contact to a minimum, not wanting to draw too much attention in case she scared him off. She didn’t have time to chase down a dealer all morning. The kid couldn’t be more than 18 or 19, and he looked ready to bolt the second she got to him. She didn’t blame him — she was completely out of her element in this situation.

“Um...” Caroline began uncertainly, “I need to see Klaus.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nope. She did not ride her bike all the way down to the docks just to be stopped by some clueless middleman. “Seriously?! I’m betting underneath that dirty hoodie you’re wearing there’s a Mikaelson wolf tattoo on your forearm.” She snidely added, “And now for the bonus round — on the other arm, you’ve got some tacky barbed wire, right?”

“Bitch,” he spat, fists curling at his sides.

An accented voice interrupted them, a hint of reproach in his tone as he said, “Jeremy, that’s no way to talk to a lady.” He tilted his dark head as he studied her, mouth curving into a half-smile as he asked, “What can I do for you, gorgeous?”

“You’re Klaus Mikaelson.” At his brief nod, she explained, “I have business to discuss.”

He wordlessly led her to an office perched over the docks, overlooking the river. As he gestured for her to sit down, he asked in an amused voice, “Would you care for a cafe au lait or perhaps some beignets, Miss...?”

She observed him carefully, taking in his neatly tailored suit with the iridescent lapels and chunky gold cufflinks and his brash, almost charming demeanor. “I’m Caroline. But you aren’t Klaus Mikaelson. You’re too flashy and clearly overcompensating. A man like Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t need to show off. Now, tell me where I can find him.”

“Right here, sweetheart.”

Caroline turned, blue eyes widening as she took him in. The man before her was unexpectedly beautiful. Sculpted cheekbones, dirty blonde curls carelessly tousled, and a dimpled smirk that whispered lewd promises. “There you are. Finally,” she said irritably.

Klaus’ gray eyes twinkled as he wryly observed, “Normally, Enzo performs quite admirably as a stand-in. Tell me, how did you see through him?”

“Please. Real power radiates. Enzo barely sparks.”

Klaus let out a delighted chuckle, waving a grumbling Enzo out of the office and took the black leather chair across from Caroline. “You don’t belong here. You must want to speak with me very badly, love,” he said shrewdly.

She stiffened a bit at his words, trying to decide whether to be insulted. “I like to think I can fit in anywhere.” She glanced down, reddening a bit as she realized she was still wearing her lilac sports bra and cropped pants. One of her sponsorships was with a luxury brand boutique, so at least her outfit was attractive, but she felt distinctly underdressed while sitting across from an impossibly gorgeous man in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. A dangerous man, she sternly reminded herself as she fought back a flicker of interest. “I’m here because I was robbed in Jackson Square just now. By one of yours.”

He eyed her speculatively, but remained frustratingly silent. She had the distinct feeling she was watching a jungle cat patiently wait for its meal to make a foolish mistake. Her hand shook as she unlocked her phone, and she hurriedly explained, “He interrupted me while I was filming for my blog and I caught everything on video. Word is you’re an honorable man...sort of, and I don’t think you’d allow your men to just go around attacking unarmed women.”

“I’m curious as to why you didn’t immediately turn this evidence over to the police. You seem the type to find great comfort in law enforcement.”

��Seriously?! You are the police! And anyone who thinks differently is either a tourist or a clueless idiot,” Caroline retorted, mentally berating herself for losing her temper. You’re here to get help from this criminal. Stop yelling at the scary criminal, dumbass.

His lips twitched as though he was fighting back a smile. “And how do you know I’m a ‘sort of honorable man’, as you so generously put it?”

“You bought the building Sheila Bennett’s tea shop was in after her jackass landlord kept raising the rent and you reinstated her rental agreement from a decade ago,” she told him, secretly pleased that she seemed to have surprised him. “I grew up with her granddaughter.”

“When you compare that simple act with my endless string of horrifying misdeeds, it hardly qualifies me as a saint, sweetheart. Perhaps I just enjoy tea.”

With an annoyed huff, she realized Klaus was more than content to continue this weird flirtation, but she was on a mission and didn’t have time for dangerous criminal murder flirting. “Look, I’m here because your employee stole my mother’s ring. It’s all I have left from her and I need it back. Please.” She tacked on the please at the last minute, hating how just the thought of her mother still almost brought her to tears. “See for yourself.”

Klaus noticed her wince as her knuckle grazed her phone case, and his voice became low and dangerous as he growled, “Did my employee injure your hand? What about that black eye?”

“Yes.” Not bothering to elaborate, Caroline held up her phone and played the video. Together, they watched her attack, but she kept finding her gaze strayed to the enigmatic man before her, surprised to see anger flash across his face.

There was a strained silence between them once the video stopped, and the room felt heavy with...something. “Right. It seems I know the lad responsible and will handle this personally. You have my word, love.”

“Um...so should I meet you back here or...” she trailed off uncertainly, still shocked that her plan worked. She was getting back her mother’s ring. Because she trusted Klaus.

Klaus favored her with an impish wink, telling her, “I’ll just follow the sunshine. After all, it starts with you.”

_________________________________

The package came by messenger later that evening. Caroline still was trying to wrap her head around the fact that notorious mob boss Klaus Mikaelson apparently subscribed to her positivity blog. She had so many questions. She eagerly tore into the first box, relieved to see that it contained her mother’s ring. It unexpectedly had been polished until the small sapphires swirling across the middle gleamed. Klaus had her ring cleaned.

But what truly put a smile on her face was the second box that contained the gaudy silver ring that had belonged to her assailant, faint smears of blood along one edge.

Along with a note in exquisite calligraphy that asked, “Dinner tomorrow?”

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic #mafia kc is so much fun #especially when klaus is a secret cinnamon roll

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loving-jack-kelly · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do

The path was hidden. Barely visible. It was rarely used. Almost never, in fact, leaving the path faint.

The entrance was marked by a stone, perfectly round and covered in moss that was just slightly too bright green to be entirely natural.

It was always talked about in hushed whispers. Whispered warnings told to friends who wandered too far off the road.

If you wander, the whispers said, the path will appear. And once you take the path, you can’t step off of it until you’ve given it what it wants.

What it wants, nobody knows. Names, some said. Lives, souls, wishes, hopes, dreams, money, goods, anything you have. It wants.

But some whispers didn’t stop there. Some whispers kept going, some whispers dropped even quieter, hard to hear over crackling fires, hidden in the dancing shadows cast by candles. Some whispers went past the warnings and delivered the promises.

The promise that the path, if sought, not stumbled upon, could give up what you needed in return for what it wanted.

The path was dangerous if you wandered onto it by mistake. Keep your eyes on the road, watch for the round, mossy stone and the faint trail, and avoid them.

Perhaps, the promises said, the path was even more dangerous when sought. Perhaps there’s nothing more dangerous than seeking your wishes and being willing to give yourself up for them. But perhaps, for some things, it would be worth it. Perhaps, for some wishes, having no name would be worth it. Perhaps, for some dreams, fewer years would be worth it. Perhaps, to some, the most dangerous few, perhaps vengeance would be worth never leaving the path at all.

David had heard all of it before. It was cookfire gossip, stories of old relatives told to young children to scare them into staying on the well-traveled road and staying off the hunting paths. That was all. About a half-hour outside their little village there was a decent-sized rock that marked an old deer trail, and that was what kids pointed to to tell the stories. They dared each other to step onto the faintly-there trail, and nobody ever went through with it.

Because maybe they all claimed they didn’t believe the stories, but was it worth it, really? To risk it? To risk everything to test a story?

There was another stone. Further along the road, and smaller. Almost hidden in the undergrowth, but almost perfectly round, and covered in moss so green it almost seemed to glow. And just beyond it was a path so faint it was almost invisible, little more than a simple break in the trees. Too natural to be a hunting path, and almost too narrow to have been made by an animal.

That was the stone and the path David was staring at.

Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk of this being the real path? Was it worth giving up a piece of himself?

Yes.

It wasn’t as hard of a choice as it should have been.

David stepped onto the path.

It didn’t feel any different than the rest of the forest. It felt like what it looked like, a barely used rough path through the trees. He followed it, feeling the underbrush catch at his pants, the dead leaves and dry twigs crunch under his boots.

He was hyperaware of everything around him. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting, but he kept waiting for the path to shift. To change. To become whatever it was that could grant his wish.

It didn’t.

The path ended against a boulder. It wasn’t a clearing, just a big boulder with the trees and brush growing up right against it.

David sat down with his back against the boulder. The path he’d followed hadn’t disappeared. It was still there, he could follow it back to where he came from.

Maybe this was the wrong path. Maybe there was another somewhere, hidden even better.

Or maybe he’d been stupid to believe the stories, even for a second. Even out of desperation. Maybe he’d just wasted his afternoon following a path to nowhere.

“Been a while since anybody’s been down here.” A voice came from somewhere above and behind him, startling him out of his moping. “You here on purpose?”

David stood up and turned around.

A man who looked like he was several years older than him was sitting on top of the boulder. David didn’t know him, had never seen him before, and hadn’t heard him approach or climb up the boulder. He was just…there.

“Must be, if you sat down. When people end up here on accident, they’re freaking out by now. Cursing the name of someone or other, whoever told ‘em to follow the path.”

He was grinning at David, a bright, disarming smile. Something about him just seemed…strange. Maybe it was his eyes, the same bright, bright green of the moss on the round stone. They didn’t seem to match the rest of him. He had dark hair, dark skin, his clothes were muted natural colors, and his eyes were so bright they seemed to glow.

“Nice to have somebody come visit who isn’t kicking and screaming. Guess that probably means you want something, though, huh? Nobody’s ever here just to visit. I wasn’t, the first time. Just got lost in the woods, picked the wrong place to wander.”

He was sitting cross-legged on top of the boulder, and as he spoke, he rested his elbow on his knee and his face on his hand, still grinning.

“Cat got your tongue? I don’t bite. Unless you try to trick me, then I do. It’s in the contract. Clause eight. If trickery is attempted, bite them. Hard. Draw blood. I’m paraphrasing, of course, no need to look so scared. I just have to trick back. You won’t try to trick me, will you? You gotta say something, here, I won’t be able to help if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“You’re…”

“I’m a wish-granter, a man of the path, a soul stealer. A life taker. I’ve been called many things. I guess you could call me Jack.”

“Jack.”

“That’s what everyone called me, once. A long time ago. Nobody has asked in a long time.”

“This is the wish-path, then.”

“That’s one name it’s been given.”

“What do you call it?”

“Home.” Jack’s smile widened, and David pinpointed another slightly unnerving feature. His teeth were ever so slightly pointed, just a bit sharper than a human’s. “And what do you want with it? Nobody comes here on purpose without a wish in mind.”

There was a glint of something in his eyes, David decided. He was speaking charmingly enough and seemed friendly enough, but he was dangerous. Maybe he’d been kidding less than he’d seemed when he’d said he would bite back.

But he was right. David had come here for a reason, and he did have a wish, and he was going to make it.

“I wish that my father was healed.”

“Oh?”

“He got hurt. Two weeks ago. He can’t work, and without him working our family doesn’t have enough. My little brother and I have to work, instead.”

“And you don’t want to work?”

“I don’t mind, but Les is only ten. He shouldn’t have to be working yet. He should be in school. Playing with his friends.”

“You know, making a wish is a dangerous thing. Answers come with a price.”

“I know.”

Jack’s bright green eyes seemed to look right through David like he could see his every thought and his true intentions and was analyzing them closely to see if he was worthy of the wish.

“And you’re willing to pay the price?”

“If I can.”

“I never charge an impossible fare. That’s also in the contract, clause two.” Jack smiled again. It was unsettling, how close he was to human with just the details slightly off. Human but a bit to the left.

“What would the price be?”

“Your wish is simply to heal your father?”

“Yes.”

“Your name.” Jack’s eyes flashed a deeper green, and David wasn’t sure if it was the light or if they’d actually changed colors.

“My…name?”

“I can heal your father if you give me your name.”

David knew those stories well. It seemed like such a simple request. Give Jack his name, just say the word, and his father would be healed. Only that’s not what Jack was asking, not in the way any normal person asked for David to give his name. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t “what is your name?”

It was a price. If Jack told David to give him his name and David responded, then his name wasn’t his anymore. It was Jack’s.

Was it worth it?

David thought about why he was here. About the expression on Les’s face when he had to go to work instead of to school, about how Les was too tired to play with his friends. Was it worth giving up his name for his little brother?

Yes. It didn’t take long to decide. Of course it was worth it. His family was worth anything.

“Okay.”

“In exchange for healing your father, give me your name.”

“David.”

In a flash of a moment, he could feel the difference. It wasn’t his identity that was gone. He knew who he was, where he came from, who his family was. Why he was here. He could remember that a moment ago, he’d had a name, and that it was David. But he could feel that it wasn’t his name anymore. He didn’t have a name. He was himself, but there was no name to attach to that.

Jack’s eyes glowed. This time he knew it wasn’t a trick of the light, light came from Jack’s eyes.

“That’s a nice name. Strong.” Jack looked down at him from his seat on top of the boulder. “Your father is healed.”

“Thank you.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and slid down to the ground. Almost floated, really, very gently and gracefully. Jack was shorter than him by a few inches, and once he was close his energy was almost palpable, like the feeling before a lightning strike. Jack paused, looking into his eyes, and too late, he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to say thank you. After a long moment, Jack smiled, a much softer smile than the one he’d displayed before.

“You’re honest. You have a good heart. Take a gift from me. I give you a name, not as strong as the one you gave me, but a good one anyway. Davey. And I give you a promise, that nobody will ask to take it away.”

As soon as he said it, the void left by giving up his name was filled, and he knew that he was Davey.

A gift from Jack. Not a filled wish, not a trade, but a gift. Maybe that was even more dangerous, maybe it left a debt unfilled, but that was a powerful gift. A name that nobody would take away.

Jack reached out and touched the tip of his finger to Davey’s nose, and another space was filled, this time one he hadn’t even known existed until it was gone. His name was secure, now, immovable. The second part of Jack’s gift.

“Use it well.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and when Davey blinked, he was back on the road, staring at the stone that marked the wish-path.

Wish-magic was a dangerous thing. Davey knew that. He’d known that before he sought the wish-path and he’d known that while he was making his wish and he knew that as he made his way home, a new name in his being and a gifted protection burning at the tip of his nose.

He could feel it, where Jack had touched him. The imprint of Jack’s finger, right at the tip of his nose, where the magic flowed around him and protected his name.

Wish-magic was dangerous, and gifts from wish-granters were dangerous, but when Davey got home and the village all knew him as Davey even if there was a little bit of confusion like they knew it had changed, and his father was out of bed, still weak but no longer in pain, it didn’t matter how dangerous the magic was.

He was home. He had a name, and a promise that he would always keep it. His family was safe and cared for. That was what mattered.

In the months and eventually years that followed, Davey was almost able to forget Jack, the man with the bright green eyes who’d granted his wish and given him a gift.

Twice, the tip of his nose burned like it had right after Jack had touched it. Once, when an old woman in the center of the village, passing through selling her wares, asked his name. He gave it, without thinking, and when his nose burned, he noticed her face fall.

And again, walking on the road and passing by a stranger going the opposite way. As soon as Davey looked at him, his nose was burning, and he knew better than to take a second look.

On those occasions, Davey was forced to remember his trip to the wish-path because it was clear the gifted promise was still in effect. When he passed the stone that marked the path, covered in its otherworldly green moss, he remembered. And sometimes, when he wanted something so bad it hurt, he remembered.

But most of the time, he didn’t think about it. The things he wanted were things he could get himself or go without, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d get off so easy on a second venture to the wish-path.

So while he occasionally thought of the wish-path and of Jack the wish granter, he didn’t really seriously consider going back.

Until, that is, he was told that he was to be married.

He knew that his parents wanted what was best for him and what was best for their family, but he also knew that he would never be happy married to the woman they’d chosen. Mostly because, well, she was a woman. And he didn’t want to marry a woman.

He knew they didn’t understand why it upset him so much when they told him, and he didn’t know where he was going when he left, but somehow he wasn’t surprised when he found himself standing in front of the moss-covered stone.

When he started walking down the path, his nose burned. The closer he thought he was to the end, the stronger the feeling got. It wasn’t painful, but it was very present.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a repeat visitor before.”

Jack’s voice hadn’t changed at all in the three years since Davey’s last visit. When Davey looked up and saw him, again perched on top of the boulder at the end of the path, his face hadn’t changed either. The same bright green eyes framed by dark, dramatic curls. The same muted clothes. He hadn’t changed at all.

By looks, Davey had caught up to his age.

“How are you, Davey?”

That question surprised him. He couldn’t think of any way it could be twisted around. He wasn’t be asked for anything, just a simple question.

“I suppose that’s a silly question, actually. Why would you be here if you were good? Your gift is serving you well, though. I can feel it working now, and I’m not even trying to trick you. I must have made it more powerful than I meant to.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled, and Davey was sure it was with humor.

He had a feeling Jack didn’t do much on accident.

“Do you have another wish?”

“I wish that I didn’t have to marry her.”

Jack tilted his head, and for a second time Davey felt like he was reading every detail of Davey’s mind, thoughts and motivations and desires.

“Strange,” he said after a long moment. “That’s a selfish wish, and yet you still aren’t selfish.”

“What?”

“People have made that wish before. It’s almost out of nothing more than selfishness. Because she’s too ugly, or he isn’t rich enough, not out of consideration for anything. You don’t want to marry her because it will make you unhappy, but also because you know it wouldn’t be fair to her. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? Is it selfish to want that?”

“It’s selfish to want your own happiness even if it means the unhappiness of others. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something for your own happiness when what you want will also make somebody else happy.”

Jack slid down to the ground, again with the otherworldly grace Davey had seen the last time he was here.

“Selfishness is addressed in the contract. Clause four. If a wish is made for selfish gain, it may only be granted at the highest cost. Even though I don’t think your wish is selfish, it’s a powerful wish. Much more powerful than simple healing. I can grant it, though.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Give me your time.” Jack extended his hand, his eyes glowing like they had when he’d healed Davey’s father.

Davey hesitated, but he took Jack’s hand. It was warm, and Davey could feel energy coursing through the connection, like the burning at the tip of his nose but more comfortable and powerful. After what only felt like a few seconds, Jack let go.

Davey felt dizzy. Something had happened, he could tell, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

“A powerful wish. A powerful price. I hope it was worth it.”

“What did I give you?”

“A year of your time.” Jack tilted his head, studying Davey’s reaction. “She’s married. Happy. There’ll be a kid in a few months.”

“You mean it’s been a year since I came here?”

“I told you. A high price for a powerful wish.”

“What will my family think?”

Jack shrugged.

“They know you’re safe. They probably know you found a path, people are smart about these things. I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“I…I have to go.”

“Of course.” Jack’s eyes flashed again, and he gave Davey a small smile. “Hey!” He called when Davey started to walk back down the path.

“What?”

“You don’t have to have a wish to visit. Come back any time.”

“You…you want me to just come to visit?”

“Gets pretty lonely here. People don’t come very often. It’d be nice to have a friend.”

Davey’s family was glad to see him. His parents had tears in their eyes when they hugged him, and Sarah and Les did too. The people in their little village looked at him differently. He’d been gone for a year, of course they did.

He didn’t tell his parents, or his siblings, or anyone that his missing year had been a wish. Of course he didn’t, that would require explaining too many things. He told them he’d gotten lost. Took a wrong path while not paying attention, and when he’d found his way back, it had been a year. Just like that. A year passed in the blink of an eye.

And that was what happened. Technically. Just with a little extra intention behind it.

For a while, things were wonderful. Even though it hadn’t felt long for him at all, and he hadn’t aged that year he’d given to Jack, for his family it had been a long time that he’d been away from home. They were happy to have him around, happy that he was safe and home and with them again.

Every once in awhile, Davey found himself wandering down Jack’s path, spending an afternoon just talking to him.

There weren’t many people his age in the village. And he knew, obviously, that Jack wasn’t his age either. Jack was something old and powerful, not even human. But he had a face that seemed to be Davey’s age, and when he wasn’t talking in riddles or saying things just outside of Davey’s realm of understanding, he sounded like he was Davey’s age, too. In fact, he was easy to talk to.

Friendship with somebody like Jack was probably even more dangerous than wish-magic, but he was easy to be friends with. Easy to talk to. Even if the tip of Davey’s nose burned whenever he was there, it was easy to feel comfortable at the end of the path at the moss-covered boulder.

Jack asked questions about life. He’d been human once, Davey learned, a long time ago, before he signed the contract he kept referencing. He wanted to know how much had changed since then. The answer seemed to be not much.

Davey sometimes was brave enough to ask questions back. He learned that Jack was bound to his path, that he could walk from the top of the boulder to the smaller stone that marked the entrance, and no further. He learned that there were limits to Jack’s power, but not many. Jack could raise a person from the dead. He couldn’t force somebody to fall in love. He couldn’t change a person’s nature, make a bad person good or a good person bad.

It took a lot of visits before Davey asked why Jack had signed the contract.

It was clear that he was lonely. He missed being a human, having friends. He wanted to grow up.

“I found this path on accident and made a very, very powerful wish,” Jack said simply. “Signing the contract was the price I paid.”

“What was your wish?” Davey asked.

Jack’s eyes, which changed shades with his mood, darkened to the deepest green Davey had ever seen in them.

“Justice. Something the world rarely offers, which makes it a very costly wish.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t hesitate. “Justice served more than me. It was a bigger cause than my life was worth. And one day somebody will come along and sign their name under mine, and I’ll be able to walk away.”

“That’s how it works? A trade?”

“Of sorts.”

For a while, that was wonderful. Davey was happy at home, and happy to continue his friendship with Jack. Happy to continue his relationship with Jack.

If wish-magic was dangerous and being friends with a wish-granter was dangerous, surely falling in love with one was deadly. But could Davey help it? When Jack was interesting and kind and always willing to listen, and always had something to say. Maybe for the same reason he’d been drawn to Jack as a friend, that there weren’t many boys his own age in the village, Davey couldn’t help it.

When his parents began to urge him to find a wife again, that only intensified it, because the way he felt when he was around Jack, leaned back against the boulder in a conversation he was actively enjoying…that kind of feeling never came from anybody else, least of all the girls his parents were pushing him towards.

It was that realization that took him down Jack’s path again, with a wish in his heart.

Whenever Davey came, Jack asked.

“Do you have a wish?”

Normally, Davey told him no.

“I do.”

“Really?”

“I wish that everyone would understand.”

Just like Davey hadn’t had to explain who he hadn’t wanted to marry, he knew he didn’t have to explain what he meant. Jack understood.

“That’s a selfish wish.”

“I know.”

“Clause four. I have to charge a high price.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jack looked into Davey’s eyes, reading him.

“Give me your breath,” he finally said.

His breath.

That was a high price.

Before he could change his mind, he nodded.

Jack’s eyes flashed.

And then he kissed Davey.

It took his breath away.

When Jack pulled back, he was laughing.

“There’s more than one way to steal a person’s breath.”

“That seems like a cheat.”

“Isn’t that my job? To trick? I tricked you. I tricked the contract.”

Davey was also laughing when Jack kissed him again.

The summer sun streamed through the trees, the boulder was solid behind his back, and Jack stole his breath until the light was gold and he had to leave.

And when he got home, everyone understood.

It was a strange thing, long after Davey’s third wish had come true and everyone understood and nobody was trying to push him into a relationship. Long after he’d started to find excuses to spend sun-drunk afternoons with Jack, somehow easily falling into a relationship that should have felt impossible.

A man walked down the road into the village.

He looked familiar, Davey thought. Dark curls framing a dark face, worn in clothes that almost faded into the forest behind him. Eyes so dark brown they were almost black. He was pretty. He walked with a slight limp like there was a stone in his shoe.

Davey didn’t recognize him at first, not until he was much closer.

“Jack?”

“Hello.”

Davey’s nose wasn’t burning the way it always did when he visited Jack’s path. Jack’s eyes weren’t green, they didn’t shift when he smiled. But it was Jack. Unmistakably Jack.

“You left the path?”

“Somebody made a wish,” Jack said, sitting down next to Davey on the step to his house. “A selfish, powerful wish.”

“Oh?”

“There is nothing more selfish or more powerful than wishing to live forever. To leave behind everyone and everything, to cause your loved ones pain, and to disrupt the way of the world.”

“Somebody signed the contract.”

“And now he’ll live forever, and I can live my life.” Jack smiled again, and Davey decided that his brown eyes suited him much better than the green.

“I have one more wish, then.”

“I don’t know if I can grant it.”

“You can.”

“Oh?”

“I wish that you would stay. Here. With me.”

“That might be the most expensive wish from you yet.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Give me your life.” Jack opened his hand, palm up, and extended it to Davey. Resting on his palm was a ring, made out of something as green as Jack’s eyes had been. As green as the moss on the stone that marked the wish-path.

“Okay.” Davey took the ring and slid it on his finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did, Jack seemed to know everything he wanted to.

Out of all of the prices he’d paid for his wishes, this was perhaps the easiest to pay. Hadn’t he already started to make the decision anyway?

Jack’s smile widened, and he twined their fingers together, staring at the bright green ring against Davey’s skin.

Davey realized that this was the first time he’d seen Jack smile without anything else behind it. Nothing but happiness.

And that meant that Davey’s wish wasn’t selfish. Jack had decided that before, that a wish wasn’t selfish as long as it was to make more than one person happy.

Maybe this was the most worthwhile wish yet, even if magic hadn’t been needed to accomplish it.

#Asper Yells #newsies #javid #davey jacobs #jack kelly #i wrote this #what started as an exercise in atmosphere has become javid because i love them simply too much #i haven't posted a fic on tumblr in a long time but it's too late to go on ao3 and i wanted it up Now #txt

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