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yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

all my fault

Request: spencer and y/n are married, and they’ve been trying to have kids, and then she finds out she’s pregnant. a few weeks into the pregnancy, she has a miscarriage, and at the hospital the doctor said it’s bc she had an abortion as a teenager, and it fucked up her it yet us. spencer didn’t know she had an abortion, and blames her for the death of the baby, and they end up sleeping separately for a while and they have to grieve by themselves. spencer ends up talking to emily about it bc of her experience and it has a comforting ending!

Summary: when reader has a miscarriage after trying to have a baby with spencer, and things about her past are revealed and leaves things rocky within their relationship.

CW: miscarriage, pregnancy, mention of abortion, spencer’s rly harsh at first, teenage pregnancy, mentions of surgery, a cervix condition that i kinda made up, depressive thoughts, negative self-worth, HAPPY ENDING. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

A/N: i’ve been working on coming up with a series, which i posted last thursday! i’m sorry i haven’t been as consistent with my schedule, this summer has really taken a toll on my mental health and school is about to start back up. i promise i’m not quitting writing, but my writing might become a bit more sporadic in terms of my posting schedule. i’m still not sure if i like how i’ve executed this piece, so please let me know what you think!

IMPORTANT A/N: this contains serious topics centered around pregnancy and abortion. reader end up blaming herself and it is a very triggering subject to some. if you aren’t comfortable with those kinds of depressive thoughts PLEASE DONT READ. i don’t want anyone to be triggered by my writing. your mental health matters. you matter. do not read if your sensitive to the subject matter, please!

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when you and spencer checked the third pregnancy test and saw those two, very clear lines on the stick, you felt an unbelievable amount of joy.

“oh my god,” you clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes welling with tears.

“y/n…” he held his breath, holding your free hand with both of his own.

“you’re gonna be a dad,” you huffed out a laugh as his arms flew around you.

“and you’re gonna be a mom! we’re gonna have our own little family,” he cheered as he breathed in your scent, elated from the news he had hoped for since you said ‘i do.’

spencer had wanted to be a father since he met henry, you remember how attached he was to the child who wasn’t even his own. you hadn’t always wanted children, only when you were absolutely ready for them. now, you were more than ready.

your arms flew around spencer’s neck as his went around your waist. he dropped to his knees and began pressing kisses against a bump that wasn’t even visible yet, praising you and your body for carrying his child.

because it was so hard for you to get pregnant, spencer decided to baby you every chance he got. you didn’t do the dishes or sweep, you weren’t allowed to reach for high shelves or even step on a chair to do so. he was worried about you and the baby, so you let him. you found it endearing.

the perfect man that you married was so worried about the little bean inside of you, worried for your safety, that it drove him a bit mad. who were you to complain? each time he’d do one of the new little quirks like not letting you lift anything above 10 pounds, you just smiled to yourself and brushed it off.

being pregnant was something that you had lost hope for, in all honesty. spencer had been talking to a few friends who had adopted children prior to finding out you were pregnant. if this hadn’t worked out, the two of you were going to look into adoption.

spencer had planned your doctors appointment for 6 weeks after your last period. the appointment was in three days. and then the perfect outline you had for your future went down in crumbles.

you had been having pains in your lower abdomen, and you figured it was just because you were pregnant. you went to the bathroom like you normally would when you felt queasy, kneeling by the toilet in preparation for what was to come. only nothing came.

you decided to just go pee and get back to bed. there was a pain that wasn’t like you’d felt before when you were peeing, like someone had been pulling your intestines out of your body. when you looked down, you felt your stomach drop.

“spencer!” you cried out. “spencer, hurry!” you felt tears well in your eyes until he ran up beside you. his hand was on your thigh as the other one was trying to steady your shaking hand.

“what is… oh,” he looked in the toilet to see blood inside of it.

“spencer… what happened? i don’t know what happened. everything was doing so well and the baby-we just found out and now they’re-wh-what’s gonna happen?” you rambled out, unsure of how something this horrific happened so quickly.

“i-i don’t know, my love,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t know. but we’ll go to the hospital right now, okay? we’ll get answers.”

you just nodded. you couldn’t speak anymore. you felt your throat closing in on yourself. you cleaned yourself up and got dressed. even looking in the mirror with spencer’s arms around you, you didn’t feel anything but guilt and worry.

spencer’s touch would usually be something to ease your mind and take away the thoughts of everything else around you. only this was something wrong inside of you. you were the problem this time. and you didn’t think anything could fix this feeling.

“let’s get to the hospital, yea?” you nodded as he held onto your hand, trying to ground you to himself as he guided you to the car.

you were silent the entire drive to the doctor. there was nothing to say. there was nothing to do. there was just… nothing. you were numb.

“hey,” he spoke up, “we don’t know what happened yet. there’s a chance it’s just a fluke, right? the baby might be okay.”

“what’re the statistics, spencer? tell them to me,” you ordered as tears flowed from your eyes.

“y/n…”

“tell me! why don’t you want me to know?!” you accused him, looking over at the man driving as he but his lower lip. “1 in 4 women who experience bleeding during a pregnancy are fine. 25 percent. the other 75 percent of people have either a miscarriage or serious complications. those are the statistics.”

“y/n…” he sighed, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t want this to happen. besides, there’s still a 25 percent chance that nothings wrong.”

“whatever,” you rolled your eyes and opted to look out of the window for the remainder of the drive to the hospital.

“alright,” the doctor entered the room. “we have the results from the test and we’ve examined the ultrasound pictures. i’m so sorry, but you’ve had a miscarriage.”

what were you supposed to feel? an overwhelming sense of sorrow? like a failure? like the one thing you wanted most in the world fell through?

“how-how did this happen?” you spoke through the tears. “we were so-we were careful. i didn’t lift heavy objects, i didn’t do repetitive motions, i just… we tried so hard to make this work,” you shook your head in disapproval, as if you wouldn’t accept the answer that had already been proven to you.

“there’s proof of an abortion when you were a teenager. there was severe damage done to your cervix that wasn’t assessed pre-pregnancy. now, we can repair the damage within the next two months, but it will still be difficult to become pregnant after the surgery,” the female informed you.

“then what’s the point of getting the surgery?” you scoffed, looking at spencer who was just staring off in space.

“while getting pregnant will still be difficult, maintaining the pregnancy is much more likely. the fetus would be more protected and secure after the surgery,” she explained with a pitiful smile, you couldn’t help but wonder how she could smile after giving you the worst news of your life.

“right,” you nodded curtly, allowing her to sense the mood of the conversation.

“i’ll leave you two be. i’m so sorry for your loss,” she gave the both of you a pitiful smile before exiting the room, the only sound audible being the closing of the door.

it didn’t feel real. it felt as though you were in a nightmare. only this time, you wouldn’t wake in spencer’s comforting arms. you wouldn’t hear the soft soothing voice of the man you love trying to calm you down. you wouldn’t feel the solace he would provide by merely being himself in your proximity.

the drive home was eerily quiet. there was an inkling of animosity between you. looking over at spencer in the driver’s seat, he had a dead look on his face, the only sign of previous emotion being his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he didn’t even look like your spencer. he looked like a stranger in the drivers seat with a cold expression that you could barely read.

you knew this was something you should talk about. when the nurse came back in the room it was only to offer a few referrals go therapists that specialized in this kind of grief. clearly, any couple should talk about losing an unborn baby. but you knew that’s not what spencer was truly upset about.

you waited until you shut the door to your apartment before saying anything.

“maybe we should talk about it?” you whispered, not knowing how he’d react.

“about what? the fact that you’ve lied to me for our entire relationship?!” he wouldn’t even turn around to face you. “i thought we were in this together, y/n. we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other - especially not any that just killed our child!”

“hey…” you winced at his words. “why would you say that?”

“that’s the truth! your choices when you were a teenager just killed our child! my child!” he finally turned to face you, and you wished he hadn’t.

“do you think i knew they would botch my abortion, spencer?! do you think that’s what i wanted?!” you stepped closer to him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“i don’t know what you want anymore, y/n,” he shook his head, clearly exasperated.

“i want you. i want to get the surgery to fix my cervix. i want to grieve our child. i still want kids… with you, spencer,” you tried to ease the mood, calm him down. you reached your hand out to cup his cheek before he dodged your touch, afraid of touching you. “but you don’t want that?” you whispered so quiet, too afraid of the answer to raise your voice.

“i-“ he sighed and bit his lower lip. “i don’t know.”

“right. of course you don’t,” you shook your head before sitting on the couch, dropping your face in your hands.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed as he took off his coat.

“it means that: of course, you’re making this about you! it can’t be about us grieving our loss together like the doctor recommended?!” you peeked between your hands at the man you still didn’t recognize.

“maybe we shouldn’t grieve together since we can’t even have a conversation without getting angry at one another,” he tried to reason.

“the only reason i’m getting mad is because you’re blaming me for my baby’s death,” you spat back at the doctor before you.

“because it’s your fault!” he stood strong in his belief. “when you were a teenager, did you or did you not have an abortion?”

“i did,” you admitted.

“and the nurse said that in said abortion, they screwed your cervix up! if you didn’t have that abortion, our child would still be alive! we would be on our way to become happy parents!” he accused, rubbing salt in the already stinging wound. “it’s your fucking fault!”

“stop saying that,” you shook your head and dropped it back in your hands, trying to hide the tears that began to flow down your face.

“it is, y/n! i can’t believe you’re even trying to say this isn’t!” he chuckled, clearly getting under your skin.

“shut up, spencer!”

“i can’t, y/n!” he sat in the chair across from you before standing back up, too hyper to sit. “no wonder it was so hard for you to get pregnant.”

“spencer,” you begged him to stop, meeting his face with your teary eyes.

“y/n,” he stared you in the eyes, and you saw a glimpse of the man you loved for a second before he retreated to the bedroom.

you sat on the couch in confusion of what had just occurred.

when you were 15, you’re boyfriend was adamant about taking your relationship “to the next step.” you didn’t think you were ready to have sex, but you wanted him to stay with you. so, you gave in. it just so happened to be that you were one of the lucky girls that ends up getting pregnant her first time in spite of birth control and a condom. you couldn’t tell your mom about your pregnancy, she’d have your head on a pole.

so, you earned enough money from your job to get an abortion yourself. you went to a clinic and had your boyfriend’s mom come with you to sign as your guardian. was it smart to get an abortion that cheap? probably not. but you had no other choice. your mom had made it abundantly clear that if she caught you fooling around with him that she’d kick you out.

you were 15. you were young and still had to finish high school. there was no support system for you. you would’ve been on the streets with a little baby - not to mention the amount of debt you’d go into for just giving birth to a child in a hospital. it was the only choice.

and now you were being berated for making the only choice you even had - and by the person you loved most in the world.

you curled into yourself on the couch, laying your head on the arm and crying into the fabric. you released all of the tension and turmoil. you held onto the cushions as if it were the man that you wanted - no, needed to comfort you. because as much as you’d hate to admit it and try to fight those thoughts, part of you thought that spencer was right. it was your fault.

you fell asleep on the couch that night. you didn’t have the strength to get up to grab a blanket so you just sucked it up.

spencer didn’t sleep at all. he was used to having you curled into his chest, or himself on yours. he felt terrible about how he had talked to you, but he was too stubborn to admit anything just yet.

in the middle of the night he went out of the room to grab a glass of water. he saw you curled up in a ball, you head resting on the arm of the couch as you slept. it was the most peaceful you looked in the past 24 hours. but you began shivering as you slept. you were probably too exhausted to get up to do anything.

he went to the hall closet on a detour and grabbed your favorite, soft blanket and laid it on top of your body. after placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he went into the kitchen and made his glass of water before taking one more glance at you. you had snuggled into the blanket, pulling it up to your chin with a gentle smile that always appeared when he kissed your forehead as you slept.

maybe he didn’t screw up too badly, after all.

the next few days were spent avoiding one another. spencer couldn’t face you after knowing you had kept something so dire from him for the entirety of your relationship. you couldn’t face him after he made you feel as though it was your fault you lost your baby.

you would stay on the couch all day, barely eating or drinking anything while spencer would go out - only mentioning the library or the office to do more paperwork. eventually he just started sleeping at morgan’s house - probably because he couldn’t stand being around you.

you didn’t know how to grieve your baby, you were hoping that spencer might help, but that clearly won’t be happening. on top of that, you were worrying about your marriage. he couldn’t even look at you, how was he supposed to talk to you and sleep beside you?

a lot of times, it’s perceived that the only reason women were put on this planet were to have children - of course that’s a false notion, but it didn’t make it sting any less. your body had betrayed you. you had betrayed yourself.

it was only 12 days after spencer left when he came back home, if he could call it that anymore. once he walked into the living room, he saw you curled up in that same position on the couch. you had a blank stare that was directed towards the black tv. the only evidence that you were doing something was the empty water bottles surrounding you - certainly not enough considering he’d been gone for over a week.

when he entered you didn’t even flinch. your gaze stayed on the empty screen and your face remained vacant of any emotion.

in all honesty, morgan was the one to tell spencer he should check on you. spencer hadn’t told him everything about your argument, he knew he was in the wrong. but he was just so angry. regardless, he was here now, and it’s a good thing he was.

you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. spencer had morgan and savannah checking on him, but you had nobody. he only realized this when morgan pointed it out. and as upset as he was, spencer would always love you. your expressionless face only worried him more. your clothes had been changed from when he last saw you, but he doubts you’ve had a shower.

he stayed silent as he began picking up the empty water bottles from around the table and couch. you looked at him quizzically with furrowed brows.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, your chin already quivering as tears threatened to stream down your face.

“i’m trying to help,” he whispered as sensitively as he could, making eye contact with the most pitiful face you’d ever seen.

“i think you’ve helped enough,” you rolled your eyes before resuming your serious stare-down with the television. “you can leave.”

“no, i can’t,” he replied, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch while being sure not to touch you - he didn’t know if you were ready for that.

“you already did,” you brought to his attention, briefly looking at him. “just go.”

“y/n, i-“

“i don’t want to hear it! what’re you gonna say that could make me feel worse, spencer?!” you let the tears fall past your waterline. “i know it’s my fault. i know i screwed up! and i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!” you replied with far too much sincerity, the tears streaming down your face before he scooted closer to you, planning on wrapping his arms around you. “stop! don’t come near me!” you pushed his shoulders away. “it’s my fault,” you lowered your voice significantly before wrapping your arms around yourself.

he had called emily as soon as he got back into the bedroom. he knew she had previously had an abortion when she was a teenager, and he just needed to hear her side of it. part of him didn’t even expect her to pick up the phone.

“reid, what’s wrong?” she immediately answered.

“i-i think i need to talk to you,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“right now?” she asked in a mildly concerned tone.

“if you can? the sooner the better,” he answered honestly.

“alright. you want to meet somewhere or just come over?”

“can i just come over? it’s really personal and i wasn’t sure who else to go to,” he began tying his shoes and hoping she’d agree.

“of course, come on over,” she replied in a worried voice.

“ok. i’ll be there in twenty.”

he quietly left the apartment, not before sparing you a regretful glance. he lost his child, but you also lost your child as well. he just couldn’t control his anger. and partially, he thought he was right.

how could you not have told him about something so serious? the second you had began having issues getting pregnant, maybe you should’ve been open about previous pregnancies.

“hey,” emily greeted before giving him a hug after seeing his teary eyes. “come inside.”

“thanks,” he sniffled before stepping into her apartment.

she guided him into her living room and sat down on the couch beside him. they sat there for a few silent minutes before he was able to work up enough courage.

“y/n was pregnant,” he whispered, barely audible if she weren’t right beside him.

“was,” she pointed out, already feeling as though she knew the rest of the story.

“she uhm-she miscarried two weeks ago,” he somberly admitted for the first time to someone else. “the doctor said it was because she had an abortion when she was a teenager that somehow ruined her cervix.”

“and that’s why you felt like you needed to talk to me?” she gathered, she was a great profiler for a reason but this was far more obvious.

“i was pretty harsh. i-i told her it was her fault,” he bit his lower lip as he grimaced. “i really rubbed it in, too.”

“spencer… “ she sighed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “you’re mourning a life, right now. obviously, that would raise tensions and emotions would be heightened. but… have you apologized? for telling her it was her fault?”

“no?” he replied after thinking about it. “i was going to do that today but she’s… she’s not in good shape. i’m not saying she needs to be perfect, but while i was at derek’s i can tell she didn’t take care of herself. she barely drank any water.”

“did you ask her why she had an abortion? why she didn’t tell you? did you ask her anything about how she’s feeling?” emily asked once more.

“no,” he cowered down, feeling even worse about the truthful answer. “i was just… selfish. i didn’t think about how she’s feeling. i just-i feel so bad now, seeing what state she’s in.”

“when i got an abortion it was because i wasn’t ready for a child,” she began to inform him. “i was a child, myself. how was a child supposed to take care of another one? my mother would’ve been disgraced. i basically had nobody there for me. i kept it a secret because having an abortion is so controversial. i knew people would look at me differently for making a responsible decision for my future.”

“god, i feel so bad,” he began to tear up himself. “i love her so much and i told her these horrible things.”

“make it right, spencer,” she gave him a supportive smile and pat his thigh before he stood up.

“i-i have to go,” he wiped the tears from his face before giving emily a hug, grateful she would listen to him at such an ungodly hour.

he quickly drove back home, where he decidedly belonged in the first place. he never should’ve left home. he never should’ve left you. you were his home, and he didn’t know how he could possibly lose sight of that.

“y/n,” he cooed as he entered the apartment once more. it was noticeably a bit more clean. the trash was taken out, the dishes were done, and your hair was wet from a shower - he assumed. “hey,” he smiled when he saw you sitting on the bed, cheeks still red and tear-stained with red, puffy eyes.

“hi,” you sighed as you brushed your hair, spencer sat down beside you.

“how’re you feeling?” you shrugged. “i need to apologize to you,” he admitted, placing a hand on your thigh. “i’m so, so sorry for what i said. telling you that it’s your fault that we lost our child… i-there’s no excuse. i was clearly upset, but so were you. what i said was so out of line, and i’ll never be able to express how sorry i am to you.”

“you’re right,” you shrugged. “it was my fault.”

“no,” he rubbed his thumb on your skin. “it was not your fault. i’m so sorry i made you believe that.”

“when i was 15 my boyfriend at the time pressured me to have sex. we used a condom and i was in birth control but i still-i still ended up pregnant,” you began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i couldn’t tell my mom because she would’ve kicked me out, so i saved up some money and had his mom take me to a cheap clinic. she signed as my mom and i got the procedure done. that was the end of it,” you finished tears streaming down your face. “a few weeks after the procedure i started having pains in like my lower back, but i didn’t think anything of it. so… it is my fault. i shouldn’t have gone to a cheap clinic, but i couldn’t live on the streets with a baby and no way to clothe or feed them.”

“y/n,” he got your attention, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “you were a teenager who had no other choice, love. it’s not your fault, it’s the clinic’s.”

“i just… it hurts so bad, spencer,” you shook your head in defeat before he wrapped his arms around you. “not even just emotionally, my body physically hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do and i thought i lost you and i didn’t know what i would do without you because i didn’t think you loved me anymore because it’s my fault,” you ranted out, sobbing into his shoulder before he moved the two of you around the bed to lay down, you on his chest.

“i’m so sorry you had to go through that, and that you’re still dealing with the repercussions,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “but know that i’m not leaving you. i love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“there’s nothing we can do now,” you whined, clutching to his shirt as if he’d disappear once more.

“we can go to the recommended therapy. we can get that surgery to fix your cervix,” he reminded you, rubbing circles onto your back as you sniffled. “then, if you’d like, we could try again for a baby.”

“so you still want to be with me?” you whispered by his ear, clearly worried of the answer.

“of course i do,” he said as if there were no other option; there wasn’t. “i’m so, so sorry, love.”

“the reason i didn’t tell you is because,” you sighed as you shuffled on top of spencer, now sitting on his lap and facing him. “because there’s this stigma that comes with having an abortion - and i didn’t know how you’d react. i also didn’t know it didn’t go well in the first place, but that’s a different story,” you chuckled. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you about something so serious.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “that was from your past. this is our future, we shouldn’t get caught up on it and allow it to ruin this.”

you nodded, “you’re right. are-are you staying here, now? or are you going back to derek’s?” there was an obvious look of hope in your eye that spencer never planned on squashing.

“i’m staying here,” he smiled. “home. you’re my home.”

“you’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes as a laugh left your lips.

“i’ve missed your smile,” he pressed a kiss to those very lips, your smile not going away but growing even bigger.

“i’ve missed you,” you pointed at his chest. “please don’t leave again.”

“i won’t. ever again,” you held your pinky out, he smiled and wrapped his own around it. “i’m so sorry.”

“we’ll work at it,” you sighed. “we’ll build back the trust and fix my stupid cervix and then maybe try again for a baby.”

over the next few months spencer and you had been going to therapy once a week, mourning the loss of your baby and working through your other issues.

five months after you found out about the miscarriage, you had the surgery to fix your cervix.

one year after you fixed your cervix you and spencer began talking about having a child. you were extremely nervous, rightfully so. you voiced your concerns to spencer about what if the surgery didn’t work? what if your cervix wasn’t the only issue? and he replied by reminding you that you would both take this one step at a time.

seven months after having the conversation with spencer about having children, a miracle had caught up to you.

you were pregnant.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

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#tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage #tw abortion #tw abortion mention #tw depressive thoughts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

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an-angel-in-the-garden · 3 years

Note

hi hi~ it is I your friendly neighborhood vulture here to pick ur lovely brain ~

Ok ok so imagine slashers ( michael (ur choice of version) , asa , Billy and stu (poly) and Jesse) coming home after a long day just to tired to deal and either seeking out or allowing their s/o to comfort them ~ whether just headcanons or head cannons and ficlet I'll let u decide~

Hello my darling birdie!!! I'm so happy to see you here! Welcome to my garden hope you stay awhile just try not to pull to many flowers this time kay ^v^ And as my best vulture I did both! CW: Blood, murder in passing ,obsessives behavior ,Just the normal slasher stuff and slight NSFW, OOC slashers and Not beta read or edited

Michael the RZ version

It's been a long day first having to go shopping for the week then cleaning to get rid of all the stains still left behind meant you were tired it seemed however you weren't the only busy one. Michael had be gone since early morning a pat on the head was all you gotten before he headed out and now slightly past 1 he was back. The echo of his boot steps were purposeful as he shut the door the cling of his knife hitting the counter ever more audible before the creek of the stairs let you know what the "plan" was. It doesn't take long for him to reach the bedroom and unlike most nights where the two of you would lay down and enjoy bliss each others comfort this time it was clear another approach would have to be taken. Michael now stood at the doorway mask dyed red and breathing heavy, whatever happen was not the outcome he wanted so with slow careful steps you began step one.

Michael no matter what is not one to seek comfort or affection it is something you have to be will to initiate willing and be willing to go slow with

Bathing is a good way to make him feel relaxed and if he tired or having a bad day its what he want and its one of the few times he's quick to remove him make you touching his hair makes him very happy

After a nice bath he wants but wont say he wants cuddle's and the start of step two

Sit on his lap and just let him hold you in a soft voice talk about you day or plans for the week or just things you enjoy its a bit of domestic life that makes him warm

turn a movie on and stay close run you hands through his hair and just exists with him for a while now for the best part

Once he's calmed down two things could happen one is that he'll pull you both down to the bed curled up with you in his arms and the sound of a movie still playing in the background letting himself fully relax

Option two is less common but more enjoyable Michael will move both you and him to the table in the room covered in his craft supplies where hell being working on his paper mache mask, asking you for input or wanting you to join if you fall asleep that's fine he's more the content just having you there

Stu Matcher and Billy Loomis

Its not hard to tell when one of them is having a hard day. After a long day of classes and keeping up with everyone Billy was exhausted had told but you and Stu as much more then one and Stu wasn't much better it seemed. Any plans that had been made were canceled as you told your boys it would be a good day for a date in, some cheesy slasher flicks tons of snacks and ordering food was the new plan. Telling everyone good bye then heading back to your place the the boys are quick to make themselves at home Stu starts by ordering dinner for the three of you Billy picks out a few movies and you head to the kitchen to make the snacks. It about an hour before everything is fully ready and with the date night begins with Stu being the first to say he needs some affection after the long day. Though he doesn't say anything at first Billy is fast to act on said affection once its shown leaning over to ask for some love as well.

Its kinda hard to give them comfort together since they both need different things at first but give it some time and it tends to end with a cuddle pile

Stu prefers holding one to waist head on in your neck or on your tummy nuzzling and kiss you having you give him head pats and forehead kisses while also rubbing his back

Billy likes having you on his lap your back to his chest his head resting on yours or on your shoulder hand locked together around your waist just holding you

If they're both in need of affection and comfort its a mix of both with Stu's head on your stomach and Billy's on your shoulder Billy's holding one hand and his other is on you hip Stu is doing the same on the opposite side

Billy feeds you snacks you feed Stu and Stu throw snacks at Billy and changes the movie when needed

Cuddles last for a long time often time it end with you three falling asleep with you in the middle of the two of them

Its not hard to know when they need comfort along with the fact that Stu is open about needing it and Billy will follow his lead when he sees you dont mind

Jesse Cromeans

Jesses always enjoys having your attention even if its for something small however, when he's in need of comfort he prefers you not being around him not because he worried about things but because he's bad at asking for it so he tends to just lock him self up in work. With that its very easy to tell when he's have a bad day its getting close to him that's hard. It starts like any relaxing day a nice warm meal whether you make it yourself for him or order something he likes its a way for you to get close. Tried and angry from a day of work the only thing on Jesse's mind is getting home what he wasn't expecting was to come home to you having gotten the places cleaned up with a meal laid out in the living ready to spend time with him and well he just couldn't say no to that. Its not hard after that to get him to set work aside till tomorrow as long as its not super important and from there the rest of the night can begin.

Jesse really enjoys slow intimacy and when his days been bad and he needs to let go having you take the lead in a nice slow pace helps him let go of the chromeskull mindset whether you know about it or not

He likes to snuggle wrapped almost fully around you with you as close as possible

Kisses are a must they make him so happy many people find him scary with go reason but here you are the love of his giving him kisses as if this is a perfectly normal relationship

Like with Michael two things can happen after he relaxes and gets your affection and comfort however its based on how your feeling not him

If you keep with the soft lead it ends with you curled against his side feeding each other fresh fruit and chocolate watching movies and shows while he talks about dates he's hoping to take you on

The other option is that you head to the bedroom hell pull you on his chest arms wrapped around you hearing you talk about this and that while just ignoring the world till he falls asleep

The next day Jesse will take off work after days of needing to seek your comfort it make him acknowledge he needs a break to not burn out or not to move to fast in the work and the day will be spent with you by his side

Asa Emory

Asa has always gone by a schedule and unless it is absolutely necessary he will not deviate from it and that includes for affection and goes double for if you want to give him comfort on exhausting days. He doesn't like feeling weak and though he loves you in a twisted way you thinking he needs comfort makes him feel weak. For weeks Asa will come home tired and frustrated his class is in the mist of exams so he has tons of work and the collection isn't going well but he wont let you in on it. The best you can do for the time being is just lightly his work load at home keep things clean, make meals for him so he doesn't skip them if the dogs are at the house help take care of them and things like that its not much but he pays attention to things like that and will notice that your helping him. Seeing you working hard to help him not stress as much while still waiting for him to take the steps like usual helps him come around to the idea of letting you spoil him for a while. Once he gets to that point remember to keep things slow though rushing it after that makes him stay on edge.

For Asa slow and steady is the way to go when he's ready to let you spoil him he will tell you outright that he "requires" your attention

He wont let this happen on a weekday only a weekend where he can fully relax and rest but he leaves the rest to you and that's a big step

Setting up a nice date in is the best way to go and though he likes homemade meals on a day like this he doesn't mind ordering dinner that night

On days he can relax with you the first thing he wants to do is cook for you as odd as it might be it gives him a starting point to let you show him affection

Eating breakfast together then heading to the living room with curled up on the couch you read to him for a bit him might interject sometimes depending on what its about but he just holds you close for a while

Tacking the dogs for a walk is the next part of the day hand in hand taking a walking path and enjoy the day whether its cold or hot he likes walking time

Domestic bliss is something he adores its what he's always craved and you give him the chance to have it so often it keeps him on cloud nine

After going back home out on a documentary and snuggle up to him the dogs will be on beds near the couch and hell have you laying you head on his lap while he runs his hand along you neck and back

You'll eat later in the day and enjoy quite time he might want to rant about his class, he wants to hear about the things you've been into lately and slowly the night winds down

Given that he has no work the next day if your feeling up to it he want to end the day by embracing you its been a while and its not something he up for much but after weeks of not being around you much he craves the close touch

It might not even end with sex he just want to caress your body looking over the curves and lines feeling you fully without restrictions till your both tired and with that he pulls you close to him whispering that he's grateful for you love and thanking you for the wonderful day

Ta-da! I hope all enjoy this and a big thanks to my best birdie buddy for requesting this I had fun writing it and I hope to see here more often! To my other followers if your looking forward to the next part of My Soulmates A God then be happy its the next thing I'm working on. Have a great day and thank you for reading! - Lilly Ps you can really tell I favored Asa here huh..

#slashers x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #x reader #reader imagine #asa emory x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #michael myers x reader #stu matcher x reader #billy loomis x reader #chromeskull x reader #ghostface x reader #the collector x reader

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

639 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

A harem collab in which we go to a party with our v precious hero 18+ Smut boooiiii

Sitting across from him never did get easier. As much as you told yourself it would.

If anything it got harder and harder to share the same room as him, let alone air.

But you were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to join the agency when you did and to be partnered with your big time crush FatGum. Although you idolized him you were sure he didn't remember you.

And how could he? He saved countless people a day so it should be no surprise that he had no idea who you were on your first day. Still, it stung.

And it shouldn't still sting or come to a surprise when he sets down a flyer on your desk. A huge smile on his chubby cheeks as he taps the sheet of paper.

"Can you believe it?! The agency is throwing a new year's eve party!" He practically gushes, lingering by your desk with his intoxicating smile. He rummages in his brown bag, setting breakfast onto your desk careful to avoid getting grease stains on the flyer as if you'd hang it up one day instead of shoving it into the trash.

"They have one every year." You shrug, thanking him for the breakfast but tossing the paper into the trash can. His smile never waivers as he pulls it from the fresh bin, returning it to the smooth wooden top.

"Yea but not at a fancy hotel and never an open bar! We should go!" His eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart hammers in your chest.

Little do you know he prays to the Gods you don't say no.

"I dont know, it's such short notice. Like next week ain't it?." At least it wasn't a no. He smiles, thinking of your competative behavior.

"Oh I see what it is." He takes the sheet from your desk, waltzing to his own, "You're scared."

"Tch, scared of what?" You hiss, snatching for the paper.

"Scared I'll out drink you!" He laughs at your cute scowl as you size him up. His metabolism was insane, and with him being in his larger state you might not be able to win.

But he didn't have to know that.

"You fucking wish you could out drink me! Remember the last party we went to? You showed your age and could barely stand!"

"Oi! I was much thinner then. I think luck is on my side this time." He slaps his belly and you smile. A genuine laugh fills the room causing Taishiro's heart to clench.

"Yea, yea." You wipe away a tear, "We'll see."

The day drags on and on, turning into a week of you glancing his way. Making sure he wasn't gaining any extra weight as he brought you your normal breakfast daily.

It wasn't until the day of the party did you gain the advantage, a fight almost turned wrong and Taishiro had to use majority of that stored fat for a deadly punch to stop the villain from terrorizing the city.

Still you'd never want this type of advantage just for a stupid drinking contest. Although he was not at his largest, he still had a considerable "dad bod" going on.

"I still can't believe they had a tux in this size so late!" Taishiro shouts into the locker room at the agency, adjusting his tie as he waits for you. Meanwhile nerves eat you alive as you stare into your reflection, wondering if this dress fit okay, smoothing the fabric over your stomach self consciously.

"You okay in there? We're gonna be late." He calls softly, hoping you aren't having second thoughts about going with someone like him.

"Coming!" You call back, glancing at your deep amber dress a final time before rushing into the hall.

"I was just thinking you were going to forfeit and then I-" Words die in his throat and he drinks you in. Beautifully complimented by the shape and color of your dress as he mouth hangs agape.

"Wow. You look…"

"Tai, I know, I look...different."

"Amazing, perfect, breathtaking." He gives you a pointed look, "Which is no different than how you normally look."

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and you're thankful he misses your flustered expression. The walk to the hotel and the brisk cold air gives you time to not only cool off but think.

Really reflect on the year, this horribly rotten, all bad luck year. Reminding you of all the times you had failed but also reminding you of all the opportunities you had missed. And not opportunities in the sense of promotions or saving people but opportunities to get closer with a certain somebody.

You glance up at him and he glances down at you, smiling in a way that sets your skin on fire and yet it makes you feel at ease.

Slowly you were coming to hate it.

"I'm excited that they decided to invite some smaller agencies. Means I can introduce you to some of the kids I interned. Well I guess they are adults now huh." He looks nostalgic, sad even as he stares into space. Opening the door to the large hotel and it the look sticks with him until he is just before the party doors.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You huff as he places his hand on the small of your back, bringing you into the rented ballroom. Lights and sounds consume your sense as music dances around light conversation. You're beginning to wonder if a drinking contest was such a good idea that is before you see the CEO of your agency totally shit faced. You glanced down at your watch, it was only 8pm.

Taishiro guides you around the room with a "starter" drink, introducing you to old and new faces. Beaming with pride as he introduces you as his partner and not his sidekick like other heroes had done in the past. You hated how much your heart raced.

"And this is Kirishima! He was one of my best and most memorable! Kids got guts and heart in spades!" He slaps Kirishima on the back and the young man slumps forward with a sharp toothed smile.

"Aw come on, I wasn't that great…" He scratches the back of his head.

"I heard that's when you became 'unbreakable'! I think that's so cool!" You gush over the young hero complimenting him to no end.

"Stop. You'll give me a big head." He smiles, blushing furiously before his eyes wander to the closeness of the two of you and then they settle on your drinks, "You're not trying to out drink the infamous FatGum are you?"

You laugh loudly before leaning in close as if to share a secret.

"Oh, yes and I plan to kick his ass."

Kirishima returns your smile and stage whispers

"Taishiro-sama has lost a good bit of weight. I believe in you!" He winks before someone across the room calls for him, "Call me when you get really started!!"

Two hours pass and you find yourself sitting across from your partner with his sleeves rolled up. Showcasing those deadly forearms as he slams back another shot. Kirishima keeps tally on hotel stationary and announces the number of shots.

"You'll have to take five to be in the lead! You'll have two minutes to decide to forfeit or-" But before he can finish you're grabbing for one of the prefilled shot glasses.

"Kanpai!" You shout, slinging them down, ignoring how the room is spinning and how bright the light reflects off of the table full of empty shot glasses.

Kirishima's eyes widen as you down an extra shot for good measure, tallying the booze count with worry.

"Fat hero." He says, almost gritting his teeth, "You'll have to take seven to be in the lead."

The large hero leans on his forearms on the table, the alcohol he's had had mostly been processed and maybe your figured that out. That he was starting to lose his edge so he takes you up on the challenge knocking back the several shots as if they were water. You're eager to gulp down a few more praying it drowns out your feelings for the sexy man across from you, instead he lets his broad hand hover over the shot glasses. Silently giving you a reprieve and noticing just how much you're sweating, how blown your pupils are.

"Let's give it a minute shall we?" He smiles as you drown in his golden eyes. Biting at your lower lip and with a defiant grip you swallow down a final shot.

"Your turn." You focus hard to make sure your words didn't slur, not wanting this feeling or night to end. He snorts, shaking his head wishing you acted out any other time than this.

"I forfeit." He places his hands up and you glare at him as you wonder if he did it on purpose. Before you have the time to accuse the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer, the room lags as you try to place names with faces as they come close to congratulate you. As more and more people crowd you, the hotter the room feels. Politely you excuse yourself to an enclave balcony closing the doors tightly behind you as you gulp down air, desperate to cool off and douse the desire that burns hot in your belly seeping to your core.

"Fuck." You rake your nails through your hair as a hit of icy air skates along your skin leaving goose flesh in its wake. A steady warmth comes from behind you, voice deep as he speaks softly. You can tell he's using the same tone he uses on victims, trying not to startle them with his size.

Little did he know how much you loved how much bigger he was. A safe haven, protection embodied.

"Ready to go home?"

"No I'm fine! Perfectly fine." He sucks his teeth at your stubborn reply, leaning in close with his hands in the pockets of his tux.

"You look flushed...you seem out of it."

"I'm totally of sound mind!" A bark to which he laughs, giving in to the liquid courage as his large hand tilts your chin towards him. Flirting with a line he swore he'd never cross.

"Yea, if you're so sound of mind, would you let me do this?" He asks, leaning closer, lips almost brushing yours. Your breath mingles with his in little puffs of fog agaisnt the cool air and suddenly you're burning again.

From the inside out.

His lips touch yours, gently, passive at first and if he's trying to fight against his urges. Slowly he breaks away, amber eyes glued to your mouth before he sighs. Hoping he didn't just fuck everything up.

In an instant you're drawing him back to you, hands in his golden wheat hair and your fingers weave through the strands. Mouth opening and demanding more as his large hands grip onto your ribcage as if you'd float away.

And maybe you would, you felt like you could.

Frantically your hands demand more, exploring up his shirt, touching across his stomach and digging your nails down his back. His own hands follow suit, gripping at your ass and tits, memorizing every luscious curve until he is drunk off of you and you only. You moan into his mouth and with that he loses all restraint.

Shoving you against the harsh brick building, fisting your hair to tilt your head for better access, exploring your mouth with his well skilled wet muscle. Hands trailing beneath your dress to find your dress, squeezing at your thick thighs and when you moan in approval he moves higher and higher still until his fingers brush against the damp fabric. This time it is his turn to groan as he presses his hardened cock against you, your hips move to grind against his large fingers.

"Please Tai" It is soft, breathy, sending him into a frenzy as he gives you exactly what you want. Letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric to gather the slick between your folds, gently rubbing against your throbbing clit. You arch against his touch, exposing your neck to him, he leans over and bites. Placing kisses along your throat, making sure to be careful enough to avoid marks before his hazed brain causes him to speak.

To confess.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He asks, plunging his fingers into your tight heat, stretching you as you mewl, "Ever since I first laid eyes on you. Kamisama you were perfect. And tonight. Fuck baby. Wearing my eye color for all to see. You want people to think you're mine?"

"Yes, Taishiro. I want people to think I'm yours." You moan, fucking yourself on his fingers before he takes over. Setting a quick pace before he curls his thick fingers just right, in an instant you're creaming against his digits. Crying out as he overstimulates you before he covers your mouth with his broad hand, reminding you just how much he dwarfs you.

It makes you cum again and again and he corners you against the wall. Cock twitching as he laps up your sinful faces with a gluttonous appetite.

"Please Tai, pleeeasse."

"What's wrong baby? My fingers not enough?" His cocky tone drives you mad and your hips buck against his touch before he withdraws from your heat. Panting he levels his gaze yo you.

"Is this what you want?" Peppering you with kisses as if you could deny him and his godly hands.

"Don't make me beg Tai…" You rasp, he gives a devilish smile.

"Then I won't." His hands slink up your dress, gathering it at your waist as on skillful finger pulls the overly damp underwear away from your soaking sex. He frees himself and you swallow, not realizing just how large he was, for a moment you worry you won't be able to take him.

"I'll be gentle." He coos, easing himself in an inch at a time as your stretch around his thick cock. Pussy fluttering as it adjusts to his size, he gathers your legs to his sides, squeezing your hips to keep from rutting into you roughly. He pistons his hips slowly, watching your face contort as he angles himself just right. Sensual thrusts have your legs and pussy squeezing him so deliciously tight. Still he worries he's going to hurt you.

"You okay?" Alcohol lingers on his breath and you swallow him whole with a kiss. Moaning into his mouth softly as he rocks you into one of your most intense orgasms to date. It's a slow build, undeniably intoxicating as his steady pace hits your spongy soft spot and his pelvis rubs against your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps and your body clamps onto the behemoth of a man tightly, stars dot your vision as he continues to fuck you through it.

"God you're so beautiful ya know? So responsive to my touch. Taking me so well baby." He purrs against your ear, "Makes me want to keep this pace all night."

He keeps true to his promise, bringing you to new heights at the steadiest of paces, causing you to lose count of how many times you've cum on his length. Pussy attempting to milk him dry as he palm swallows your screams. He looks at your features, your makeup running from delirious tears, mouth fallen opened in a propetial O as your hair clings to your skin.

"Kamisama you're like art." He kisses your quickened pulse, "Ready for me to fill you love? You're squeezing me so tight…"

He groans and all you can think of his him and the searing pleasure that courses through your veins to settle in your over sensitive heat. His cock twitches and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full of the Fat Hero's fat cock and his cum. But words are lost in your hoarse throat and all you can do is nod, moaning his name as if it were a prayer. It's all the encouragement he needs, quickening his pace as the crowd inside grows louder. Counting down from 10.

It's all lost to you and his hips snap against you, the brick scraping against your shoulders as his grip on you becomes so tight you're sure you'll bruise. Your body hyper aware of every little sensation as you drown in pleasure and warm amber sun, he groans, painting your walls in hot ropes of cum, your vision spots as your body arches to meet him as your spams a final time while his lips crash to yours.

All the while fireworks erupt over head, bringing in the new year on a literal high note.

He huffs, sweating as he looks at you, still buried to the hilt. Swiping his thumb over your cheek and running mascara before he breathes out so gently.

"Happy new year baby."

#fat gum x reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut #bnha x reader #bnha nye event

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carnationcreation · 3 years

Note

can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

TITLE: 3 Simple Rules (Reggie Peters x reader) [MUSICAL THEATER AU]

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in!

Request: can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

Prompt/summary: [Musical Theater AU] Reader has to explain the three simple rules of the theater to Reggie. (And also help him out of trouble)

Word Count: 1,411

Authors note: From my AU prompt list on Tumblr!

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

There were three rules that came with being in the theater department at Los Feliz High School.

Rule One: No talking in the wings.

From the moment I met my co-star Reggie Peters at auditions, I knew he was going to be a pain to work with.

For example, he did not prepare an audition song. Instead, he broke out a guitar and took a request from Mrs. Harrison and wowed with his impressive vocals instead. His lines were half memorized and his wardrobe was not fit for the dance portion of the audition.

For Christs sake we’re doing NEWSIES!

The rehearsal period was over a month long and every week about thirty students crammed into the auditorium to relentlessly rehearse and prepare for opening night.

My character, Katherine, didn’t dance much other than in King of New York. The big tap dance number I had to master next week.

A lot of my time was spent waiting in the wings for my next cue. Unfortunately, so was Reggie’s.

“Wait was that my cue?”

“SHHHHH!” I said, looking anxiously to see if the stage manager on the other side of the stage heard us.

“Oh come on,” he said, “they can’t hear me over the music.”

I rolled my eyes before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the hallway of dressing rooms right behind the stage.

“Do you seriously not know anything?”

He looked at me confused.

“The rules of being in theater?” I said, when he shrugged I continued, “One, no talking in the wings. Two, no eating or smoking in costume. And three, always show up early or else you’re late.”

“I didn’t think this was that serious.”

I scoffed, “Why did you even sign up for this?”

He shrugged, “Mrs. Harrison cornered me in English and said she needed someone who could actually sing for Jack Kelly.”

I rolled my eyes, “You better keep your mouth clean. I don’t want to have to kiss someone who’s breath stinks every weekend.”

Suddenly, the door we just came out popped open.

“(Y/N)! It’s almost your cue! Reggie, what are you doing out here?” Julie whispered.

“Nothing. Let’s go Reginald.”

“It’s Reggie!”

Rule 2: No eating in costume

The snack table near the dressing room was kept stocked with lots of different things, and it was meant for those out of costume or stagehands since we didn’t get to eat dinner until afterwards on show nights.

I’d never been a stickler about eating in costume considering I’ve done it myself numerous times. At least I was always careful about it though, putting on a jacket or blanket over me to keep stains from getting on the meticulous costumes our school would make.

“What are you doing?”

I tried to keep my voice low, but the shock and panic that went through me when I saw orange smears on Reggie’s vest from the pack of Cheetos in his hand made it come out in a squeek.

He looked up at me frantically, “I forgot!”

I huffed in frustration before running into the womens dressing room to grab paper towels.

Reggie tried to take them from me when I came out but I slapped his hand away.

“You’ll try to rub it, you need to pat the stain out.”

The wet paper towel made the brown vest look darker, but at least I got the orange out.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the dressing room, “Stand there.”

He stood where I pointed right beside the electrical outlet and watched me silently as I plugged in the hair dryer and set it to the cool setting. I put it on it’s lowest setting so I could carefully listen so we wouldn’t be late for our cues. Luckily it was Pulitzer’s solo so we should have enough time.

I looked up and noticed his cheeks were red, “What? It isn’t too hot is it?”

“Uh- no I just- we’re in the dressing room alone-”

“And I’m getting the stain out of your shirt so Katie won’t go nuts when she sees your costume almost ruined. No one’s gonna say anything Reggie, especially not to me. This happens more than you think.”

He nodded and looked down at the vest. It was still slightly damp but not enough to be noticeable on stage.

“Thank you,” Reggie said as I pulled the door open.

“Next time put a jacket on before you eat. Three simple rules Peters. Remember them.”

Rule 3: Always show up early or you’re late

It was almost the end of our show run. The past few weeks had been amazing and it was saddening to think that tonight I would have to say goodbye to Katherine.

As I sat in my dressing room I heard a knock at the door, Julie entered and stood behind me as I pinned my hair up for my wig.

“Have you seen Reggie? It’s almost 10 minutes till places.”

“No I haven’t, has he messaged Luke about being the understudy?”

She shook her head, “Katie said he hadn’t.”

I felt anxiety rise in my chest, hopefully we wouldn’t have to delay the show just to get someone in costume.

I peaked my head outside and just as I did Reggie Peters came sprinting down the hallway.

“Where have you been?”

“I got a flat on the way, how much time do I have?”

“10 minutes till places. If you hurry you might not be late.”

He nodded.

“Rule number 3 Peters!”

He shouted over his shoulder back at me, “I know!”

I rolled my eyes. Having pity for the boy, I decided to try and help.

I went and grabbed his mic from the stage manager and updated her on the situation. With it in hand I went back to his dressing room and knocked.

“Come in!”

Reggie stumbled around the room finding pieces of his costume to pull on.

“Sit,” I said once he had the pants and shirt on.

I handed him the vest and tucked the mic pack into the back of his belt before letting him run the wire up through the shirt.

“Do your hair, I’ll get the makeup ready.”

He tousled his hair and I couldn’t help but stare. Him clearing his throat brought me back to reality and I began applying the foundation and powder to his face. The entire time I felt his eyes looking at me causing my face to become unexplainably hot.

Finally I pressed a cut up makeup sponge covered in black and gray eye shadow to give him the look of a dirty newsie.

“All done,” I said. I tried to stand up quickly so I could go and get my face to not feel like it’s on fire.

He grabbed my wrist, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He sighed, “You’re always helping me with something.”

“Well,” I smiled, “Hopefully you’d do the same for me if the situation was reversed. Besides theater geeks look out for each other.”

“I’m not a geek!”

I laughed, “It’s almost time for places. Let’s go Peters.”

The final curtain call had most of the cast in tears. This was the night we’d have to put all the props away and say goodbye to Newsies.

I neatly put my costume away before turning off my dressing room light for one last time.

I’ll admit. Working with Reggie wasn’t all that bad. At least he was a good kisser and took a mint before the finale each night.

I pulled my duffle bag over my shoulder and walked towards the entrance of the school.

“(Y/n)!”

I looked behind me to see Reggie jogging to catch up with me.

“The rest of the crew is going to iHop, are you coming?”

“I dont know,” I said, “I’m kinda tired.”

“Come on,” he groaned.

“No Reginald I’m tired and sad the show ended.”

He smirked, “And going with the rest of the cast will make the grief a little less.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Please?”

I walked off leaving him to trail behind me.

“Please (Y/n)!”

“Why do you want me to go that bad Reginald?”

“It’s Reggie,” he said, I smirked, “And... I don’t know anyone else that well.”

I stopped and turned to him, he looked slightly embarrassed.

“Please? I don’t wanna go by myself.”

I sighed, “Fine. But you’re buying me a milkshake.”

He smiled widely and before I could react pressed a kiss to my cheek.

As he pulled back he realized what he had done causing us both to blush.

“Is that against the rules?”

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

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#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp #jatp imagine #au imagine #julie and the phantoms au #reggie peters #reggie peters imagine #reggie peters x reader #jatp reggie #jatp reggie imagine #jatp reggie x reader

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icarusbynight · 4 years

Text

After shower

A/N: Something else concerning my favourite couple that I wrote and forgot to publish. Forewarning, this gets really explicit near the end. So if that makes you uncomfortable, please dont go further.

Woosh

Rickey smiled as the basketball sailed through the air and through the hoop. Across the gym, floor basketballs lay scattered as evidence the last four hours spent practising. His shoulders ached, and sweat covered both his face and stained his sweatshirt, but he felt…good.

The sound of clapping reverberated throughout the gym and Rickey turned towards the sound, wiping his face slightly with his shirt.

It’s funny how a few weeks of working together could change a person’s perspective on another. That was how Ricky found himself smiling, rather than frowning in irritation, at the clapper: E.J. Caswell.

“Well that was better than the last hundred attempts”, E.J said, walking towards him and kicking away the balls that were in his way.

Ricky snorted, and rolled his eyes, “Maybe if you were a better teacher, I would have gotten it the first ninety-nine.”

Who could’ve known that getting the role of Troy Bolton would have actually required him to improve his basketball skills? Ricky Bowen was a skater, and some skills really weren’t that transferable. Thankfully, that was where E.J had volunteered his services as perhaps the most athletic member of their drama troupe.

And it had worked, the last few days spent after rehearsals in the gym had seen Ricky move from missing every shot, to only missing half of them. Another plus side was that he found E.J less annoying. To quote perhaps one of the greatest films of all time, E.J was like an onion, and the younger teen was discovering that there were indeed layers to him.

E.J had his phone in his hand: “Carlos texted me. Everyone’s meeting at his place for the night.”

Ricky nodded, beginning to clean up the stray basketballs, “Alright sweet. So we’ll just finish cleaning up here, I’ll skate home, shower, and meet you guys there.”

Moving to help him, E.J raised an eyebrow almost incredulously, “Why go through all that?”

“What? I stink dude” he laughed, as he pushed the ball cart to the back of the gym with E.J in tow.

“What I mean is that you don’t have to skate all the way home. You literally live in the opposite direction” E.J countered, unlocking the gym’s storage closet, “I have extra clothes, plus there are showers here.”

Ricky blushed, he hadn’t even thought of the school showers. Even in gym class, they were something he tried to avoid; the gross floors, the never knowing whether you were going to get hot or cold water, the mass of bodies…

“…and besides its only me and you here”, E.J was still talking, and the sound of his voice jostled Ricky out of his own thoughts.

“Oh”, he mumbled out, “I mean yeah…sure no problem, in and outright?”

E.J grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder, “Yep, in and out.”

It was often hard to remember that East High was an old school. Built originally in the ’30s, the building had gone through so many changes and upgrades, that it looked like any new school in the greater Salt Lake area. That was of course, until you reached the gym showers, which looked as if they hadn’t seen construction since they were first installed. They were completely open, blue tiles covering the walls and the slightly downward-sloping floor that led to a central drain. Slightly rusted showerheads lined the walls, and during regular hours it was a mystery which one would actually work.

After locking away the remaining basketballs, this was where the two teenagers found themselves. Leading the way into the locker room area, E.J had already begun to undress. With a swift motion, he removed his t-shirt, and Ricky could practically see the muscles in his back flexing.

‘Fuck’

E.J had unlocked his locker, pulling out a towel, soap, and shampoo. With a turn of his head, he looked back at Ricky standing there, “You getting undressed or what dude?”

Ricky blushed and turned around. ‘What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like Big Red whenever he’s trying to talk to Ashlyn’. Behind him, he could hear the sound of E.J unbuckling his belt, and of clothes being dropped.

There were many reasons why Ricky didn’t like the gym showers, and chief among them was the proximity. That’s not to say that the skater was afraid of closeness, although Nini might disagree, the gym showers were different. It was like entering a world where nothing made sense.

With a sigh, the younger teen began to undress. Running a hand through the sweaty mop of curls, Ricky quickly removed his sweatshirt. His sweatpants followed, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. The showers were located in East High’s basement, and the damp air that always seemed to blow through now left goosebumps trailing down Ricky’s neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw E.J move towards the showers, a flash of skin darting past.

Feeling heat once again rise to his cheeks, and slightly self-conscious, Ricky grabbed his towel and shucked off his underwear. Beyond the wall, he could hear the sound of the shower starting, and his E.J’s laughter was reverberating throughout.

“Get in here, man, the water’s great.”

Leaving his clothes behind, and covering his crotch with his hand, Ricky entered the showers. Steam had started to rise up from the warm water, but even with that, he could clearly see the older teen standing beneath one of the showerheads. E.J’s head was under the rush of the shower faucet, his fingers rubbing in a sweetly scented shampoo. Water ran down his back, along his butt, and legs dark with hair. Every single muscle of the older teen was on display, and a warmth that had for now only seemed to stay in his cheeks, travelled further downwards nestling in his stomach.

‘This is going to be uncomfortable’

Taking his eyes off of E.J, Rickey moved further away from the boy. Grabbing one of the valves along the wall, he turned and sighed as the hot water fell on to his body. The heat from the water seemed to release the tension that had been building up in his shoulders, and the younger teen sighed and closed his beneath the warm cascade.

“Shit”, E.J cursed, and Ricky dared to open one eye in the direction of the other boy.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know how these showers go. If you’re getting hot water, somehow that cuts off my heat.”

Ricky smiled slightly and closed his eyes again to enjoy the feel of the water against his skin, “Sorry about that dude, I won’t be long. You can just take this showerhead when I’m done.”

“No need, sharing is caring, right?”

Ricky nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of E.J’s voice being so close. He hadn’t even heard the older teen walking over.

E.J had placed an arm around Ricky’s shoulders, and was grinning at him, “I mean we’ve technically also shared a girlfriend, so sharing a shower seems like the next step.”

“I’m sure this isn’t the type of bonding Miss Jen had in mind.”

Ricky kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on finishing his shower as quickly as possible. Yet he could feel E.J’s presence behind, could practically his breath on the back of his neck, and could hear the sound of E.J soaping up his own body. The idea of the other boys wet, and soaped up body was giving Ricky a weird feeling. The warmth in his stomach had now travelled further south, leaving an all too familiar sensation in his groin. He was beginning to get hard.

‘Oh, no, no, no’. Ricky was panicking now, and his mind was desperate to think of except the wet boy behind him. He thought of his parents having sex, or of his grandma naked. A glance downwards only showed that his dick was only rising further, jutting from his pubes at a straight angle.

He was thinking of that time that he and Big Red had found a dead cat at the skatepark, of the sight of its poor body flattened against the pavement. With some relief, he could feel himself softening and sighed as he continued to wash himself without fear of embarrassment.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, and the silence between the two boys interrupted only by the soft patter of the shower.

“Your hair is really curly y’know”

“Mhm?” Rickey asked, rubbing into his hair his own shampoo.

“I mean it’s really curly, like even when wet you can still see them” E.J was laughing now, and Ricky could only grin in response.

“I just want to run my hands through it.”

Ricky let out a low groan, as he felt the blood rush to his dick. “That’s a weird thing to say E.J.”

“Is it?” he could hear the chuckle in E.J’s voice, but also something else.

A hand touched his shoulder, and heat coursed through him. Ricky knew he couldn’t even begin to blame this on the temperature of the shower.

E.J pressed against him, and Ricky could feel the older boy’s hardness pressed against his lower back. E.J’s other hand had glided across Ricky’s abdomen and was slowly inching its way downwards.

“Wait..wait…stop”, he said, painfully aware of how loud his voice was even over the din of the shower. E.J’s hand stopped its descent midway.

“What? Don’t tell me Ricky Bowen has never had a handjob before?”

Well, that’s certainly not true, and his mind flashes to sleepovers with Big Red. On the one hand, he certainly wasn’t going to share that with E.J, and on the other hand, he really didn’t want to come off as inexperienced.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see what you guys get up to on the Water Polo team” as he says this, Ricky lowers his voice, “What if someone walks in?”

E.J was still straddling him from behind, one hand wrapped around Ricky’s stomach, the other resting on the side of his neck.

“I mean we are the only ones here…”

The hand of the other teen inched further down. Ricky didn’t need to look to know that his cock was utterly and achingly stiff.

“…but if someone comes in”, E.J was whispering now, and a shiver flew down Ricky’s spine, “they can watch.”

And just like that Ricky felt his willpower crumble completely, as E.J gripped him in his fist. It was like being struck by lightning, and he could feel the precum leaking from his tip. E.J grip was firm, and he drew his fist upwards, smearing his thumb against the tip.

Ricky writhed under E.J’s touch, and a gasp escaped him. E.J had pulled him in tighter, and the older teen had his face buried in the crook of Ricky’s neck, biting and licking at the bare skin there. He could feel E.J grinding into him before, the older boy leaving a trail of his own precum against the other’s lower back in a desperate attempt to find friction.

“How does that feel?” E.J asked, his voice husky.

Beneath E.J’s firm hand, Ricky felt as those he was in a fog; one that was impacting his every thought. Every single stroke was sending was send waves of pleasure coursing through his body, he had to even admit that E.J hand felt better than his own.

The seconds seemed to stretch on and feeling that all too familiar sensation Ricky reached out to grab E.J’s wrist. “Wait”, the desperation in his voice was clear. Reaching forward, he shut off the shower, and turned around, “Do you want me to…?”

The question hung in the air as he trailed off taking in for the first time the full sight of E.J. He had seen E.J before in states of undress, but this…this was different. E.J was athletic, and his body showed. Muscles made lean from years of swimming practice. His hair lay matted against his forehead, wet from the show, and his was face was flushed red. Ricky’s eyes trailed downwards following the light brown treasure trail that panned out into a thick growth of hair at the base of E.J’s cock. The large purplish head oozed a trail of precum that seemed to hang precariously in the air.

“Do you want me to to…yknow?” Ricky asked again, nodding downwards to E.J’s own erection.

E.J nodded, and Ricky closed in, his own hand wrapping tightly around the other’s hard dick. The skin was soft and smooth, and also feverish to the touch. A gasp escaped E.J’s lips, and his hips bucked into Ricky’s enclosed fist.

Ricky had never seen E.J like this; usually he was so composed and so cool. But now…his eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open as if caught in a silent scream. Ricky continued to stroke him, his fist moving quickly over the older teen’s length, mimicking what had done to him earlier and swiping the head with his thumb, using the precum as lubricant. The sounds escaping from E.J were obscene and hot. His own cock throbbed in response, untouched.

“You sound like your about to bust dude.”

E.J opened his eyes and grinned back at him, “This feels fucking amazing.”

Leaning forward, he reached out for Ricky’s own neglected erection, and Ricky groaned as he felt E.J touch him once again. His hips jerked reflexively, and he leaned forward, resting his head against E.J’s shoulder. In unison their fists moved, squeezing and stroking from base to tip.

“Faster” E.J managed, and Ricky obliged. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin rubbing against skin filled the shower room. Almost instinctively Ricky found licking and biting into the side of E.J’s neck, leaving a similar mark to the one that had been left there earlier on his own. E.J had pulled him closer, both of their fists were forgotten in favour of simply grinding against each, cocks wet with precum, each boy desperately chasing his own orgasm.

Hesitantly E.J turned to look at him, completely glassy-eyed. Ricky leaned forward, pressing his lips against E.J. Feverishly E.J kissed him back, plunging his tongue into the younger boys gasping mouth, sending a shiver down Ricky’s spine.

‘Oh, fuck.’

He was cumming, harder than he had ever done so before. He grunted and moaned, and with every spurt, he could feel his toes curling as the tension that had been steadily building within was released. E.J thrust one final time, and shuddered, releasing against Ricky’s abs.

Exhausted the two disentangled, collapsing shakily on the floor of the shower. Both boys were sweating and breathing heavily. E.J glanced at him and smiled.

“We definitely need to do that again.”

#ricky bowen #ej caswell #ricky x ej #caswen #gay smut #fanfic #Joshua Bassett #matt cornett

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tojikomerareta · 4 years

Text

Vega

(Henry x Summoner) Fire Emblem Heroes

I've written this last year and I'm now comfortable to share it!! I used the name Sachiko as a placeholder so I hope you dont mind!!

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Sachiko hasn't spoken to him from the moment he woke up.

The atmosphere was heavy, and not once did she looked at him in the eye. Henry was sitting up on his bed at the medical wing of the Askr castle, after sustaining grave injuries during their last battle. He was sporting his usual unnerving smile, but if one looked closely, they could feel his uneasiness.

Sachiko was seated on the chair beside his bed, previously reading a book. She would occasionally stop and look towards his direction, but avoided his gaze entirely.

It's been 7 hours since he woke up. And a week has passed from the now-won battle.

Every 2 hours, Lissa or Veronica came in to check on him and his status. They would exchange a few sentences with Sachiko who, from Henry's perspective, looked like she hadn't eaten for a few days. Her eyes, once shining with life, holds an absent and unsteady gaze. Eyebags were a bit noticeable and the skin around them were slightly puffy.

Henry sheds his smile a few notches. Has she been crying?

To his left bedside was a plate of untouched dinner, slightly warm. Sachiko was the one who placed it there a few minutes earlier.

Sachiko looks tired, evident from the slump of her back and the way she lazily leans her left elbow to the chair's arm. Her book was now forgotten, neatly placed at the feet of Henry's bed. She still hasn't looked at him. And that fact alone made it harder on Henry's part to initiate a conversation.

But he'll try anyway.

"Sachi..." he quietly calls, hoping they'll have some semblance of a conversation. The heavy atmosphere is slightly suffocating him to be honest.

Sachiko looks over, sitting upright, but she still doesn't meet his eyes. "Do we need to call a healer?" She was about to stand when he told her no, I'm fine.

"Perhaps you need help with eating? Your hands are still weak from your injuries, hold on–" she quickly walks over the bedside to get his food but he interrupts her spiel. "Sachi..." his voice was quiet, but it firm.

She turns her head away.

"Sachi... what's wrong?" he reaches for her nearest hand and weakly pulls her to sit on his bed. Sachiko sighs and complies but tried to focus her gaze at remotely anything besides Henry.

Henry then reaches for her cheek and Sachiko slowly leans towards it, closing her eyes as if she might suddenly cry. But she tries to speak.

"I'm so sorry," it was barely a whisper and Henry almost missed it. It broke his heart when he noticed that her voice was hoarse and tiny. When she finally looked at him, tears were threatening to spill and her eyes are glassy, "I'm so sorry Henry."

Unsure of the reason of her apology and tears, he took the back of her head, rested her forehead against his shoulder and let her cry for a few minutes, his hands stroking her back to calm her down. She eventually did, after a while.

His face now fully painted with concern, he brushed away the remaining tears on her face when she sat up. His hands found hers and held them tenderly. "Would you mind telling me what's wrong?" His tone was surprisingly gentle, moreso as he was cautious of her crying once more.

"Please worry more about yourself, Henry. You almost died," she replied, eyebrows knitted with slight frustration as he addressed her problems before his own.

"These are just minor injuries Sachi!" he smiled to ease her worries.

"Henry, you were in a coma for a week! Don't play down the gravity of your injuries!" Raising her voice, she continued, "The healers told me that you refused any healing during the battle and continued fighting without any concern for your life! And the fact that this happened after I was forced back to my world feels like this is all my fault!"

New tears started to form but she held them back, "And when we found a way to come back I suddenly found out that you were basically on your deathbed and I–" Sachiko loses her voice and just held Henry's hands for dear life.

Henry was patient throughout Sachiko's outburst. "And you?"

"I thought I was gonna lose you and it's all my fault."

Henry stilled, seeming to forgot how to function.

Henry could see that the guilt on Sachiko's face was slowly tearing her apart. The way she desperately held his hand like a lifeline, the pained stare she gave him as tears threatened to spill anew, the way the rest of her body shook. All of this was new on Henry's plate. He had never seen her this distraught. He was used to her usual bashfulness during their strolls, her lips fighting back a smile as he cracks another joke. He was used to her focused eyes and her terrifying skill with weapons during battle, never letting any enemy faze her the slightest. He was used to intense training with her siblings, her small sounds of triumph when she outsmarted them.

And seeing her like this, all vulnerable, left a bad taste in his mouth.

Henry slowly removed their entwined hands and held her in an embrace that was overdue. He caught whiffs on pine and cedar, scents that remind him of home, as he held her close. And the fact that he's feeling pain all-over suddenly makes him realize why she was so worried. He did almost die.

Back then he had no complaints if he met a bloody and untimely death. In fact, he'd probably welcome it with open arms. But now, something (or someone) pulls him back from those thoughts and dying was suddenly not the best of ideas.

"I'm here, Sachi. Please don't cry."

Minutes of silence washes over them and was greatly appreciated. Sachiko was still distraught and Henry observed that she still wanted to say something but couldn't. I'm sure it could wait for tomorrow or until her voice comes back. Despite this, there was a sinking feeling that he couldn't pinpoint for some reason.

He directed Sachiko to sleep next to him. She made no objections due to her exhaustion and just laid next to him, a wave of sleep following quickly. When Henry was sure that Sachiko was indeed asleep, he tried to stretch his bandaged body and eat his dinner portion. After that, he continued to sit on the bed, stroking Sachiko's hair.

It was at this time when a plethora of thoughts occupied his mind, seemingly to have found the most obvious of reasons for both his and Sachiko's actions beforehand.

There was an unspoken thing between them and to Henry, a young man with a troubled past, friendships were a scarcity. It was obvious that both of them cared for the other, even the other heroes could tell. Henry hadn't formed any fulfilling relationships with the rest of the Shepherds, so he doesn't have any point of comparison with his relationship with Sachiko.

But Henry is not stupid, sure, he may say jarring things and laugh at inappropriate times, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't that stupid. Probably. The amount of time it took him to realize everything made him doubtful. But now, everything is slowly unraveling to clarity.

He now realizes the reasons why he likes inviting her to strolls in the afternoons, why he's willing to drink tea with her in the gardens, why he makes sure she's within his line of sight when they're in the same unit, why he keeps on making jokes at her presence despite it not being that funny.

It becomes clear to him why he was willing to throw away his life that day. The same day when he learned that a portal to her world opened briefly; she and her siblings nowhere to be found. It felt like a bucket of cold water was thrown at him. There was no goodbye, nor any previous indication that she was planning to go back. He thought they would continue their usual routine. So the moment the Askr royals were informing the heroes about the sudden AWOL of the siblings, he actually felt betrayed (like he had the audacity to feel so). Abandoned, once again. And suddenly, life wasn't really worth anything anymore.

He remembered not giving a damn when his body kept taking hits from Emblan mages and soldiers. He remembered ignoring the healers pleas and kept firing spell after spell after spell. He remembered being angry and proceeded to channel that in his final spell before his body decided to shutdown. But he also remembered her before he lost consciousness.

So imagine his disbelief when he found her on his bedside, looking ultimately distraught and vulnerable. He actually thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But when the healers, Lissa and the Emblan princess, addressed her regarding his state solidified his notions that yes, she was here with him, in this very room, at this very moment.

At first he wanted nothing to do with her. However, as the hours passed by, he soon regrets these negative musings. He saw her eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze, and cheeks clearly stained with tears. It left a sour taste in his mouth and he didn't like it at all. He carefully observed her, who never once spoke a single word, but attended to his wounds when it was time to change his bandages. Henry is fairly confident that he was a patient person. Especially when it comes to her. It took her 7 hours, as he learned, to finally look at him and speak to him. And Henry, despite the hostility that initially consumed his opinion of her, never showed her any indication of his negative emotions and was, on the contrary, very patient and forgiving. Anything for her.

Henry thinks that he is somewhat a sensible person. So he didn't really think much of their routine as anything more than good friendship. But the moment she was baring her vulnerability a few moments earlier, made Henry uncertain of his own initial conclusions. Maybe, just maybe, does she actually?

Does she actually what?

He cuts off his own musings and rested his gaze with the young woman sleeping soundly by his side. He suddenly feels uneasy continuing his self-reflection, but since when did he back down, even to his own thoughts?

Does she actually what, Henry?

His eyes find its way to her hands and the thought of buying her a ring that she deserves finally leads him to his long-awaited answer. He feels unusually at peace, glad to be clear of his own questions. He slowly eases himself onto the bed, careful not to wake Sachiko and allowed himself to be lulled by the silent thumping of their heartbeats.

Would you walk beside me for the rest of your life?

#fire emblem henry #henry x reader #henry x summoner #fire emblem heroes #THIS TOOK WAY TO LONG AND I WANTED TO IMPROVE MY WRITING AGAIN SO DON'T HESITATE TO TELL ME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM #mine #I COULDN'T PUT A READ MORE BC IM ON MOBILE SORRRRRY

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noecat · 7 years

Text

but i dont mind (6661 words) by firepixel Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime) Rating: Mature Relationships: Jean-Jacques Leroy/Otabek Altin Tags: #JJBek week 2017 #5 plus 1 without the plus 1 type of fic #unless someone convinces me to write the plus one as 'first time they fuck' #Firsts #why does ao3 recommended tags not ship jjbek jus wondering #first meeting/dance/date/kiss/confession, in that order #Fluff Summary:

jjbek week day 1, prompt: firsts

jj looks good in neon, otabek pines, gross romantic dates happen and they fall in love sometime in between

dedicated to lia @otasucc who dragged me into this hell in the first place. thank u, i guess. i suppose. maybe. thing is under cut for those who hate ao3:

chapter 1: first meeting

Otabek first meets JJ in the bathroom of a gas station.

He’s washing his hands, looking up at his own reflection in the stained mirror, when he sees the door open as someone comes in.

Stumbles in, perhaps, is more appropriate, because the stranger seems to be drunk as fuck. Otabek snorts in sympathy before he can hold in the sound. The stranger looks up at that and grins. Their eyes catch in the mirror — holding for a long moment — before Otabek redirects his attention to the way he’s scrubbing under his own fingernails. Can never trust gas station bathrooms, after all. Once he’s satisfied with the general cleanliness of his hands he smoothes them down his face and lets the tap run out by itself. He turns to leave once it does.

‘Hey,’ the stranger calls at him from the urinal, and Otabek turns around.

He’s treated to the sight of the stranger zipping up his pants and blinking at him rapidly. Otabek raises his eyebrows.

‘What’s your name?’ The stranger inquires.

The entire encounter feels like it should be strange, but somehow it isn’t, and Otabek is responding before he can think twice about it. ‘Otabek.’

‘Oh. Otabek. Nice name,’ the stranger remarks. He tips his head. ‘You’re very attractive, you know that?’

The compliment is delivered simply, like a fact, and is sudden enough to throw Otabek off. Clearing his throat, he tries to come up with an appropriate response. ‘Thank you,’ he settles on, ‘you too.’ The last part is a reflex, the typical way Otabek responds to compliments, but the longer the stares at the stranger the more true it feels.

The stranger grins. ‘I’m JJ,’ he volunteers, and Otabek nods.

‘JJ,’ he repeats.

The silence stretches for a few beats after that. Otabek is staring, stoic, and JJ is grinning in a way that somehow makes Otabek feel like they’re already close. Even when they’re clearly not. That fact must shine through, because the not-so-much-of-a-stranger nods back at him and shuffles around a bit.

Then he makes his way back to the door, and Otabek catches it to hold it open as JJ moves past him into the dark-and-quiet night. He didn’t come alone, apparently — unlike Otabek — because there is a car on the curb and a door opens as JJ moves towards it. Otabek hears ‘bro, hurry up, we’re going to be late—’ as he walks to his own motorcycle.

‘See you around,’ JJ calls as he waves and is pulled backwards into the car. Otabek hears the door shut on the excited voices and music. It peels off into the night, and the surroundings are suddenly quiet and dark again. Quiet enough that Otabek hears the breath he lets out before he puts on his helmet. Quiet enough that the roar of his engine spills out into the night and reverberates in his bones when he straddles his motorcycle. The roar swallows up his thoughts, eventually, as the darkness blurs around him and lights flicker past in long neon smears on the edge of his vision.

He does see JJ around a lot after that.

It’s funny how they never met before, given the overlap between places JJ is at on weekend nights and places Otabek is at on weekend nights, but once they have it seems like JJ is everywhere. He’s like the moon, really — once he’s been pointed out to Otabek he sees him anytime he looks up.

He finds out that everyone who’s anyone in the scene knows JJ. It’s a lot less weird then. It’s a lot less weird that JJ recognizes him, pulls him in close with an arm around his shoulders, introduces him to his friends. They don’t even get many chances to talk one-on-one (it seems like no one gets a chance to talk to JJ one-on-one, Otabek’s convinced that the one time he got to meet him alone was some kind of glitch in the universe — statistical outlier — because JJ is never ever not surrounded by people), but somehow Otabek becomes JJ’s ‘bro’.

He’s pulled into orbit, somehow, and settles into it with a surprising lack of resistance. JJ’s friends recognize him; he recognizes JJ’s friends. The way he turns up at the same clubs as JJ is treated with the same lack of surprise as the sun setting each night.

It’s some kind of bros-at-first-sight thing, it seems, that day they’ve bumped into each other at the gas station. Otabek can’t say he minds.

chapter 2: first dance

note:this is where the M rating comes in: there is nothing explicit, but towards the end they get touchy while dancing.

In all those times they’ve met since then, Otabek has learned quite a few things about JJ. For one: he doesn’t smoke, unlike Otabek. He drinks a lot, also unlike Otabek. He has some kind of weird greeting, where he forms his own initials with his hands and smirks at the recipient — ‘it’s JJ style!’ — and then laughs, easy and warm and bright.

JJ, he learns, burns with the kind of light Otabek tries to catch between his fingertips anytime he flicks his lighter on. He never manages to. For some reason, he keeps trying again every night.

It’s not the easiest task; where Otabek at best feels like the pale glow at the tip of the stick between his fingers, JJ is more of an actual star. The light just spills out, uncontainable, winking across the dimly lit spaces with their blue-tinged smoke and neon cutting through in beams. Otabek can’t even imagine what else he would look like — what else, if not strobe lights flashing off his cheebones and pale skin drinking in neon to reflect it back in an undimmable, steady glow? — so he doesn’t waste his time imagining.

So many words, just to say that JJ’s personality is naturally magnetic.

Otabek, half helpless moth, half sensible goth, is attracted to him with every piece of metal in his body and then more besides. There’s iron in his blood — maybe that explains the way his skin buzzes when JJ brushes too close on his way to the bar, the way it sings at the press of leather-clad muscle against his back when JJ leans against him momentarily to steady himself.

In a way, this reminds him of something he used to do back when he studied all through the night and zoned out sometime ages past his bedtime to stare at the lightbulb hanging a foot from his face. He’d lift his hand, inching his fingertips closer and closer to the glass, heat intensifying until he came in contact with smooth-hot-burning. The light would glow through the red-tinged tips of his fingers, and he’d see how long he could hold them there, how close, before he inevitably got burned and had to blink the light out of his eyes to refocus on the paper.

Touching JJ for the first time feels a lot like that.

The place is so packed it feels a lot like he’s touching everyone at once — insistent hands as much part of the ambience as the pounding music and the pulsing dim lights. There’s a hand on his hip; another brushes itself against the line of his shoulders as someone presumably grasps him for balance, and there’s another set of hands resting on his waist trying to edge up past his leather jacket. He doesn’t know who he’s dancing with. He doesn’t particularly care.

He finds it hard to care about anything when the only force acting on him is the centripetal pull JJwards. Center-seeking, indeed, somehow never getting any closer – and yet, and yet, Otabek has been orbiting JJ for the third hour and he can’t seem to stop. He’s the unfortunate Earth to JJ’s sun; just close enough, just far enough, and even when he’s turned around he can feel the heat on his back.

It takes a single push to send his trajectory crashing gracelessly with JJ’s.

‘Where’s my bro,’ JJ loudly questions no one in particular with a waggle of eyebrows that suggests that he knows exactly what he sounds like (not much like himself) and unapologetically sounds like it anyway. The teasing lilt to his voice is not gravity that Otabek can avoid. The momentum draws him, inevitably, forwards.

Or maybe it’s all the hands; it doesn’t take long before the crowd responds in its own way, like some kind of strange hivemind extension of JJ’s will. Hands gently prod him and tug at his sleeves and voices raise themselves a little to carry over the music to inform JJ that ‘there he is, coming over here’, and Otabek has very little choice as to whether he’s going to be here coming over there.

He goes willingly, leather jacket and all.

He’s deposited in front of a grinning JJ like a particularly brooding log washed up on a shore. JJ unglues himself from two girls, unwinding their arms from his torso and wiping lipstick off his neck. His eyes are alight — brighter, even, when they settle on Otabek.

‘Let’s dance,’ JJ says, offhand, and drags Otabek back into the crowd.

The crowd obligingly swallows them both.

And this time, it’s JJ’s hands on him; hot-dry on Otabek’s side through his t-shirt, just above his hipbone, and curled around his shoulder inching up to his neck. JJ presses in close, swaying, all-consuming, eyes almost closed behind fluttering eyelashes. Otabek doesn’t recall when he last took a breath.

The hand on his hip shifts, upwards, and then JJ’s thumb is swiping across his skin like a brand. Otabek is struck with the need to do something, anything, so he settles a hand hesitantly on JJ’s side and brings the other one to JJ’s upper back. It seems to be the right thing to do, because JJ hums and sways in even closer, hot breath on the collarbone opposite the one his palm is covering. Otabek masks a shiver with the motion of turning them both around.

When Otabek’s next step brings his leg between JJ’s, there is a catch in the breath fanning over his neck. JJ thumps his forehead down against Otabek’s shoulder, breath coming harsher, and something in Otabek feels like he’s rapidly approaching terminal velocity in this freefall. His fingers dig into JJ’s leather-covered back on reflex; the hand he has on JJ’s side sneaks its way further back, and lower, until it brushes over denim. He spreads his fingers, palm pushing down as his thigh bears up.

JJ makes some kind of sound at that, swallowed up by the noise around them. Otabek wonders if this is what meteors feel like, moments before they burn up entirely. -- ‘You’re very attractive, you know that?’ -- he remembers. With JJ in front of him hanging on for dear life the compliment seems soberingly real.

The music builds up, anticipation climbing higher and higher, and somehow JJ’s fingers are wound loosely in Otabek’s hair and the hand previously on his hip is roaming under his shirt. Otabek is dimly aware that they’re both sweating. The proximity is hot, and the air between them is a sticky kind of humid that plasters Otabek’s shirt to his chest, makes his hair stick to his forehead, makes the slide of JJ’s fingers over his abs slicker.

When the beat drops, the crowd goes wild.

chapter 3: first date

warnings: jj is a Tease, and also mentions his dick but like. very offhand with no details ??

Sometime between all the times he’s met JJ in person, he’s managed to get his number.

At first, it was a joking thing; a parody of everyone who’s ever hit on JJ, with Otabek batting his eyelashes in exaggeration and sidling up close to JJ at the bar. ‘Let me buy you a drink,’ he said, and JJ’s lips curved up in amusement that meant he was playing along.

Somehow, somehow, it didn’t feel so much like a game to Otabek.

He still bought the drink. Again, and again, having learned that JJ would drink anything alcoholic someone pushed at him.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, and JJ’s smile slipped into something a little more knowing, something that said is this what we’re doing, then?

Then JJ, king of one-upping, leaned close. ‘Why, need something to chant tonight?’

Hot lights, the sudden drop in the music, the crowd around them — so many reasons why Otabek’s cheeks could be flushed. He hopes it’s dark enough that JJ doesn’t see, and knows that JJ’s eyesight is attuned enough to darkness to see anyway.

Otabek refuses to be embarrassed in a game he started himself, so he looks at JJ dead-on. ‘What if I do?’

JJ leans back out of his space and looks at him for a moment, consideringly, before replying. ‘Get me another drink, and I might.’

As if Otabek wasn’t going to get him another drink anyway. He huffs, but does as told, flicking up two fingers and nodding when two glasses are pushed his way.

JJ doesn’t touch his, but he does touch Otabek. The hand is gentle on his shoulder, teasingly so, and JJ’s lips are dangerously close to his ear, close enough that Otabek has to focus hard to make sense of what JJ is saying.

‘Call me Jean,’ he breathes, ‘Jean-Jacques Leroy.’

Otabek can only stare, dumbfounded, as JJ scribbles something on a napkin and pushes it at him before picking up his own glass and vanishing off into the crowd. For a moment, his only thought is so that’s what JJ stands for, and then he’s captivated by the sway of JJ’s hips as he smoothly makes his way across dancing people, and then all he can think of is how utterly fucked he is.

He gets out his phone anyway — Otabek could never resist making his own life more difficult — and copies the digits off the napkin, before sending a text. It’s appropriately simple. ‘want to go somewhere,’ is all he types, no punctuation and no inflection. It’s read immediately.

He can’t see JJ anymore but spares a moment to imagine him fishing out his phone from the pocket of his too-tight jeans. It’s a good mental image. Otabek blinks to refocus on the screen when it starts to swim before his eyes.

> wherw

> **where

> are u going to take me out?;) x

It’s all Otabek can think of to say. JJ’s reply is instantaneous.

> my my so foreward!!

> **forward lol

> i accept;)

Then, slightly left-field:

> i dont put out on the first date tho

For some reason, it makes Otabek smile into the rim of his drink.

He takes another sip as JJ replies.

> ok

> looking forward to it!!

> :)

Otabek hesitates a moment, then, before he powers on.

The reply he gets to that is impossibly faster, texts flickering across his screen in a barrage of grey.

> wow thaats so wierd

> people usually only call me that when were fucking lol

> **weird

> otabek

> just call me jj lmao

> wait

> do u want us to be fucking

> otbaek,

> **otabek

Otabek lowkey chokes on his drink and spends the next few seconds coughing.

The next time he gets a reply is when he’s already home, about to get into bed. It’s timestamped 4:03am.

> goodnight :) x

It’s enough to make him smile into his pillow. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

He still doesn’t know what it is that JJ — Jean — does for a living, but apparently it makes him unavailable until the late hours of evening.

For this reason, their ‘date’ is planned for late hours of evening.

‘how do you want to do this?’ he had texted, and got a much more sober reply from JJ around noon. ‘take me somewhere good’, he’d said, ‘i get off work at 9 today’. In the end, it wasn’t that much difficult to schedule a time and a place for them to meet.

What was difficult, however, was breathing for Otabek when he finally pulled up to the curb near the spot they’ve agreed on and pulled off his helmet to finally look at JJ.

He looked, for lack of a better phrase, fucking amazing.

Not to say JJ didn’t always look amazing; the floppy undercut and sharp jaw and bright eyes looked great in any lighting, but there was something a little extra to the way he looked under the streetlight on the corner as he leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant. Perhaps, it was the white button up — JJ looked ridiculously good in formal — or maybe the jeans hugging his hips, or even the soft smirk on his face.

In comparison Otabek feels almost inadequate in his usual white t-shirt and leather jacket combo. It seems to be enough for JJ, though, because he pauses to look him up and down twice, before greeting him with a soft smile. ‘You look good.’

‘So do you,’ Otabek responds, equally soft, and watches JJ push off the wall to come to a stop in front of Otabek. JJ raises a hand, smoothes it down Otabek’s front to unzip the jacket that he’d kept zipped up for the ride. Otabek catches his wrist.

‘Let’s go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ JJ breathes in response. They go.

The restaurant Otabek has picked out was the product of many hours of research, reading reviews and menus and social media pages. The food was promised to be amazing, but the atmosphere was highlighted as the main selling point.

Otabek feels very sold on the atmosphere.

They’re taken to a booth with no questions, a secluded kind of thing trimmed with cherry wood and lit very dimly by warm gold candles flickering in the center of the table. The air smells like incense, intoxicating, and quiet music sets a backdrop for a very lazy, relaxed mood.

‘Romantic,’ JJ remarks, looking at the candles.

‘I try,’ Otabek teases before he can overthink it. JJ looks up at him at that.

The moment is broken by the waitress appearing to take their order, and they slide into their respective seats. Otabek is thus spared from having to explain himself any further. Instead, he focuses on his order, on the rich drawl of JJ’s voice as he tells the waitress what kind of wine they want.

Otabek barely remembers what he’s ordered for himself.

He’s a little preoccupied with this: the soft curve of JJ’s jaw in the gold light, the sheer novelty of seeing JJ in anything other than club-neon or gas-station-fluorescent, the peek of collarbone where JJ’s shirt is unbuttoned a button lower than what is decent, the way JJ’s incisor digs into his bottom lip.

Then he realizes that JJ is biting his lip because he’s busy looking at Otabek looking at him, and suddenly he’s preoccupied with breathing normally.

They both cough, and avert their eyes. He hears JJ snicker, and looks up again. JJ’s shoulders are shaking a little, and his eyes are laughing at him even as he hides his mouth in the hand he has propped up on the table, and — if JJ keeps looking like that, like he’s happy-drunk on Otabek’s presence alone, then Otabek might not even need the wine after all.

Their food arrives, in Otabek’s humble opinion, way too fast. He’s forced to focus on his steak instead of on JJ as the waitress fills up their glasses and leaves the bottle on the table. He doesn’t even know if he minds; it looks delicious.

JJ (king of one-upping) doesn’t let him focus on the steak for long.

Otabek almost chokes on it when he feels the brush of a foot against his calf, and then against his thigh, warm and teasing and very inappropriate for a public place. When he looks up, JJ is very innocently regarding the label on the wine. He meets Otabek’s gaze, sly as anything, before he moves his foot a foot to the right — and Otabek makes a sound into his steak that has JJ looking smug.

‘That good, huh,’ he asks, eyes twinkling, tilting his chin in the directoin of Otabek’s plate.

‘Shut up,’ Otabek croaks.

‘Let me have a taste,’ JJ flicks his tongue out, and Otabek can only oblige him as he brings his own fork, a piece of steak speared on it, to JJ’s lips. The moan JJ makes at the taste is obscene. Otabek is glad he’d already swallowed. That way, at least, he has nothing to choke on.

By the time the waitress reappears to take their now-empty plates away, JJ is on his second glass of wine. He’s sipping it slowly, seemingly savouring the taste, and he’s looking at Otabek with a mild kind of gaze that makes Otabek think he might want dessert.

‘Would you like dessert, sir?’ The waitress asks.

JJ looks Otabek in the eye when he licks his lips, pointedly, and replies for both of them. ‘Nah, I’m good.’

‘Thank you,’ Otabek adds to be polite, because nothing about the way that JJ licks the rim of his wine glass is polite. The waitress nods, a blush high on her cheeks.

Otabek’s throat is a little dry at the insinuation.

It’s followed by a scramble when she brings them the bill. JJ procures a credit card out of seemingly nowhere, pouncing the moment the little clipboard hits the table, but Otabek slides it towards him with his wallet out. JJ’s eyes narrow.

‘Otabek,’ he says dangerously.

‘JJ,’ Otabek replies, mildly, as he holds the clipboard just out of JJ’s reach.

‘Otabek,’ JJ says again in a tone that spells death. ‘Give me. The bill.’

‘Nah.’

‘Do you want to die.’ JJ’s smile is very wide and very terrifying. His eyes glint a little.

‘JJ, you’re scaring the nice lady,’ Otabek says just to see how far he can push, and smiles politely at the waitress as he hands her the bill with his card and absolutely does not enjoy the indignant sound JJ makes.

‘I can’t believe you.’ JJ says, incredulous and somewhat betrayed, as they leave the restaurant. ‘I cannot believe you.’

‘Mmm,’ Otabek hums.

JJ makes a strangled, frustrated sound, and he looks so adorable that Otabek can’t help but smile at him.

‘It was a date,’ Otabek tells him by way of explanation. Then, he wonders if he is being presumptious, and his cheer drains away a little. ‘Was it a date?’

JJ pouts for a second more before he replies.

‘It was,’ he concedes. ‘Even if you’re kind of a dick.’

Otabek is all giddy relief at that. They’re at the corner, already, the same one Otabek has parked his motorcycle, and suddenly he’s hit with the fact that this is it.

He’s actually kind of not ready to end it there. He clears his thoat.

‘Do you,’ he says, slowly, ‘maybe want to go somewhere else?’

JJ looks at him, bright and — secretly pleased? — before he ducks under his floppy fringe with a smile. ‘Maaaybe,’ he teases. ‘Where do you want to take me?’

Looking at him, happy and relaxed, cheeks a little pink from the two glasses he’s had, Otabek’s first thought is — everywhere. I’d take you everywhere.

He replies with a more realistic ‘the pier. Let’s go see the pier.’

‘The pier,’ JJ hums, as if trying to see how the words taste. ‘Okay. Take me to the pier, Otabek.’

Otabek glances at his motorcycle.

‘I hope you’re not planning to take me on that thing,’ JJ says. ‘Didn’t think drunk driving was a kink of yours.’

‘You don’t know my kinks,’ Otabek replies, absentmindedly, as he brings up Google Maps on his phone.

When he looks up at JJ, JJ looks half scandalized and half amused. ‘So tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘About your kinks.’

Otabek blushes violently all of a sudden at the way JJ says that. He keeps his eyes firmly on the route that Google Maps suggests.

‘700 meters from here,’ he says instead. ‘You think we can walk that?’

‘You can carry me if my legs give out,’ JJ snarks. ‘Since you’re my knight in shining armor and all.’

Otabek pretends to consider it.

‘No. You’re heavy,’ he says, and turns his back on JJ’s indignant gasp to begin walking.

‘I cannot believe you’d let me die in some unknown street because you think I’m too fat to carry. Otabek. Is this how you treat all your dates?’

Otabek keeps walking and ignores JJ’s whining. JJ catches up soon enough; throws an arm around Otabek’s shoulders and pokes at his cheek where Otabek is trying to hide a smile.

‘You’re not fat,’ Otabek says. ‘Just muscley. Heavy.’

JJ snorts into his neck. ‘Says Mr. Built Like A Truck.’

‘If I was built like a truck,’ Otabek argues, ‘then I could lift you with my muscles.’

JJ jerks them both to a stop.

‘Carry me,’ he declares, dramatically.

‘No.’ Otabek widens his eyes at him.

‘Carry me,’ JJ insists.

‘No,‘ Otabek insists harder.

‘Otabek,’ JJ says, and his eyes are narrowed in the same way he glared at Otabek across the table at the restaurant. His voice is low, deliberate, and somewhat of a turn-on. ‘If you want to have any chance at all at this dick, you will shut up and carry me.‘

‘Are you serious.’

‘Otabek.’

Otabek considers a world in which he has no chance at all at that dick.

Then, he turns around and crouches a little, sighing.

JJ pretends to swoon for a moment before he climbs on. He pats Otabek’s cheek, lips close to his ear. ‘Good boy,’ he says. ‘I knew that would tempt you.’

Otabek thinks about his entire life and the weight of his combined mistakes for every one of the 700 meters he carries JJ to the pier.

When they finally reach there, JJ seems to be possessed by a spirit of someone chivalrous as fuck; he insists on buying two sticks of ice cream, gathers up both of their wrappers, and walks a whole 50 meters to the bin to throw them away.

When he joins Otabek on the walkway to lean against the railing, he looks oddly thoughtful. It smells like the sea, dark, rushing all around them, breaking against the rocks below in a heavy and constant rhythm. The only light comes from the lamps lining the railing, and from the stars twinkling above, as well as the ships dotting the horizon.

Under the orange light of the lamp right above them, JJ’s eyelashes cast shadows long enough to span his cheekbones. Otabek’s eyes are drawn to the way JJ licks melted ice cream off his wrist, catching the droplet before it runs down his arm. JJ doesn’t look at him; he’s too transfixed by the dark expanse before them.

Otabek briefly entertains the thought of staying in that particular moment forever.

JJ ruins that particular illusion very fast by pulling out his phone to check the time.

‘Otabek,’ he says, as he licks the ice cream stick clean. ‘It’s almost midnight.’

‘Mm,’ Otabek hums, trying his best to ignore the way something in his chest sinks a little at that. ‘Want to head back?’ he says instead, turning to look at JJ properly.

JJ yawns at him in reply.

Otabek is so, so fond. JJ blinks at him, and then stretches a hand out to pull Otabek in closer by the collar of his jacket. For a minute, they’re staring at each other, unguarded and anticipatory, the sea rushing under their feet and the stars above them.

JJ leans in first.

His breath is ghosting over Otabek’s cheek, maddening-hot, flickering down to his jaw. His voice, when it comes, is pitched quiet and velvet-soft. ‘I want to do this again,’ JJ murmurs into the shell of Otabek’s ear. ‘Tell me we’re doing this again’.

JJ doesn’t kiss him; he doesn’t have to.

chapter 4: first kiss

That one date seems to break some kind of invisible barrier, some kind of line that separated club JJ and Otabek’s JJ.

When Otabek first sees him during the daytime, it’s not their first date; but it’s his first time seeing JJ in sunlight, playing across his hair, setting his eyes on fire.

Just Otabek’s luck that the fucker would look breathtaking in literally every kind of light.

It was JJ’s proposal they meet in a cafe near where he works. He’d texted with too many emojis, nervous hope in every word, and Otabek accepted without thinking. Clearly, accepting things without thinking when it comes to JJ is a trend, but also very stupid of Otabek, given how he is literally dying.

JJ looks, disgustingly, unfairly, ridiculously beautiful in the soft midday rays filtering through the cafe window. Only a decade of experience in ordering coffee allows Otabek to function; most of his brain cells are diverted to the incredibly important task of figuring out how JJ manages to look more radiant than the sun itself. What the fuck, even.

He thinks JJ has noticed Otabek’s fish-like gaping at some point, actually, because JJ looks like he’s about to start laughing any minute. Mercifully, he does not. Instead, he starts talking about his life, does things to Otabek’s poor gay heart when he realizes that he’s being let into something very private and very personal and very JJ.

There’s something about daylight, apparently, that makes JJ less of an enigma and more of an open, warm person who owns dogs and takes pictures of the view outside his office window and tells Otabek about these things.

Tells Otabek these things like it’s nothing, like he’s talking about the weather, instead of divulging precious information about himself.

Daytime JJ is another dimension, another whole field to explore, and Otabek literally does not know how on earth he can be possibly more in love with someone, but somehow he manages to do just that. It’s like he’s dug a hole down through the entire diameter of the Earth and is now bravely digging into outer space, leaving molten rock and humanity behind to chase the stars.

A very particular star, to be more exact.

A very particular star that has cleared its throat three times already and is smirking at him in amusement as he attempts to recall where the conversation was before he spaced out (hah) thinking about how much he adores stars in general, and JJ above all.

He blinks very rapidly to try and cover up that fact.

JJ is most definitely laughing at him now. He pokes Otabek’s shin under the table with his toes and crinkles his eyes.

‘Thinking about something?’ He asks. ‘Someone?’ he says, and oh, he’s totally making fun of Otabek.

‘Yeah,’ Otabek says. Waits.

‘Oh?’ JJ bites. ‘Tell me about them?’

‘You wouldn’t want to hear it, really, he’s kind of an ass.’

‘My, Otabek, thinking about yourself again? You’re so vain,’ JJ sighs in mock disappointment.

‘mY, oTaBeK, tHiNkInG aBoUt yOuRsElF aGaiN? yOu’Re So VaIn,’ Otabek mocks into his coffee for lack of a better comeback.

JJ chokes a little on his bite of muffin, staring at Otabek in unguarded delight.

‘Otabek,’ he says, ‘did you just meme?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ says Otabek, with infinite dignity.

‘You totally just memed!’ JJ squeals.

Otabek very pointedly bites into his own muffin and ignores him.

‘You. Memed!’ JJ repeats, stabbing his toes into Otabek’s shin for emphasis. ‘I cannot believe my boyfriend is a walking meme. Wow.’

Boyfriend, he says.

‘ksdjgfhjgh,’ Otabek says, as he tries to cough his muffin out of his windpipe.

‘Otabek. Are you dying.’ JJ’s eyes are appropriately wide and his hands are hovering off the table as if he’s about to leap over it and do something helpful, like thump Otabek very hard on the back.

‘No,’ Otabek says eventually, a little hoarse from coughing.

‘Was it something I said? That you’re a meme? —Oh.’ JJ’s eyes are even wider. ‘It’s the boyfriend thing, isn’t it. You’re choking because I called you my boyfriend.’

Otabek’s entire face has colored to match the raspberries in JJ’s muffin.

‘Oh god.’ JJ sounds horrified. ‘You don’t like it. I fucked up. Oh god, I fucked up.’

‘NO,’ Otabek rushes to correct. His voice probably comes out a little too harsh. ‘No,’ he repeats, more quietly. ‘I liked it.’

JJ stares at him, dubious.

‘I really liked it,’ Otabek mumbles, flustered.

‘Boyfriend.’

‘Oh god. Stop.’

‘Boyfriend.’

‘Now you’re just making fun of me.’

‘Otabek Altin, my boyfriend.’

‘I am leaving right now, immediately.’

‘Aww, would you leave your boyfriend all alone in a cafe on your date?’

‘Literally yes,’ Otabek says, and stands.

‘You don’t mean that,’ JJ simpers and flutters his eyelashes at him.

Otabek leans forward to put his face very close to JJ’s. ‘Yes,’ he says, enunciating every word. ‘I do. I would totally leave my boyfriend,’ he pauses there, watching the stunned look on JJ’s face with narrowed eyes, ‘because he is being obnoxious in this cafe, on our date.‘

After that declaration, JJ is silent for a moment. He looks, in one word, shook.

Then he whispers. ‘Holy shit.’

Then, a little louder. ‘I can leave with you, though, right? I’m done with my muffin.’

Otabek blinks. ‘Yeah. I’ll go pay?’

‘Ok,’ JJ says. His cheeks are very pink. ‘Boyfriend’.

‘Obnoxious,’ Otabek mutters under his breath as he makes his way to the counter with his wallet. He’s smiling, though.

The street outside the cafe is very warm, and very sunlit. JJ pauses to pull out his phone to take a picture of the sun beams caught in the leaves of a very green tree, framed against the wispy clouds of the sky. Incidentally, the sky is very fucking blue.

Otabek doesn’t know where to go from here, so once JJ finally gets his perfect shot, they just stand there.

Time stretches on, for a bit, ahead of them. JJ is looking at Otabek like he’s waiting for something. Otabek wonders what the hell he’s waiting for.

Then JJ nods, quick and decisive, and kisses Otabek in the middle of the street.

It’s a firm press of lips, dry and smooth, right on Otabek’s own. He makes some kind of surprised sound, some kind of I can’t believe this is happening right now but I’ve been waiting for it so long and I’ve imagined it countless times and it was never like this but this is also impossibly better than anything I could have imagined, and when his lips part JJ takes it as his cue to press in closer and taste.

JJ tastes like the raspberry muffin he’s ordered at the cafe. He also tastes like Otabek thinks a meteor might taste like, or a star, or the music right before the beat drops. Under all that, he just tastes like a complete dork.

JJ pulls away with a final peck. His eyes are shining.

‘I’ve been waiting to do that,’ he says, and it’s the most cliche line ever but it does things to Otabek’s heart.

‘Was it good?’ he blurts out. He’s still a little dazed from the kiss.

‘You’re asking me,’ JJ laughs. ‘Yes, dumbass. It was good.’

‘Want to do it again?’ Otabek says, when he recovers a little from the idea of JJ thinking that their kiss was good.

‘Well, if you ask nicely,’ JJ says against his lips. ‘Maybe.’

They do it again. And again.

chapter 5: first 'i love u'

warning: jj asks 4 the D. he's also in the hospital, but nth graphic is described ?? no rly jj mentions his dick and otabek mentions broken limbs

Their relationship thrives on a solid foundation of similarities. They’re both, equally, likely to be found somewhere crowded and neon and loud past 10pm on a weekend; they both, unfailingly, sport an undercut and multiple piercings; they both, without a doubt, incredibly gone on each other.

They do say, though, that opposites attract, so the healthy sprinkle of mirror-image differences probably spices up the otherwise very healthy salad that is their relationship. There’s the 10cm JJ has on Otabek; 10cm that Otabek determinedly ignores anytime he drags JJ down for a kiss. There’s also the fact that when you get to know him, JJ is a complete whiny diva, and Otabek literally does not have any room to be a whiny baby because JJ takes up all of it and then some.

There’s also this: unlike JJ, who has wrapped himself in layers upon layers of nicknames like spare labels to shed at will, Otabek never really felt the same itching need to be something else.

Unlike JJ, whom Otabek can call Jean when he’s aiming for particularly vulnerable spots, emotionally, Otabek doesn’t have much to his name besides his name itself. Most of the time, as a result, JJ doesn’t call him anything at all.

Well, there are some things: he calls Otabek bro, ironically, dude, even more ironically, and Otabek, when he’s lit by the harsh buzzing fluorescent hospital lights.

Jean, Otabek says to the hand gripped firmly between his own. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare do this to me right now.

JJ’s response is a weak laugh that breaks midway into a weak cough, and Otabek’s fingers clench with the conflicting desire to push him into the starch-white hospital sheets to tell him to shut up and save his breath, or to pull him in close and possibly never let go.

I think you care a lot, Otabek, JJ’s smile says for him.

Of course I fucking do, idiot, says the hard and tense line of Otabek’s jaw.

‘I love you,’ says JJ finally. ‘I think I really do.’ He looks as if his own admission was what got him dazed and blinking up at Otabek in some kind of silent wonder, and not blood loss.

‘Shut up. You idiot. You fucking idiot.’ Otabek’s voice comes out sharp, exasperated, like the glaring lights overhead. ‘I love you too. Shut up.’

‘Oh god, I love you so much,’ he follows up in a hoarse whisper that cracks towards the end, eyes closed and JJ’s limp hand pressed to the space between his eyebrows with both of his own.

When Otabek finally collects himself, synching breaths to the slow beep of the heart rate monitors, he presses his lips against JJ’s knuckles and takes in a deep breath.

‘You are never,’ he says, heavy intent in every single word, ‘ever, stepping foot near a motorcycle alone ever again. Jean. I will break both your legs myself.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ JJ says, light.

Otabek sighs against JJ’s palm.

‘No,’ he admits, finally. ‘I can’t tell you what to do. But please, J, don’t ever scare me like that again.’

JJ brushes the knuckles of his hand over Otabek’s cheek, over his miserable expression.

‘Okay,’ he whispers, ‘okay.’

Then JJ’s contrite expression turns devious. ‘But when I finally get out of this cast, I want you to give me the D.’

Otabek stares at him for a very long, very stunned moment.

‘How many drugs are you on?’

JJ shrugs. ‘Enough, probably. But I’ve wanted you since months before that, so I don’t think it really matters.’

‘Jean. You have just broken several limbs, lost enough blood to fund an entire donation drive, and the thing you choose to think about is my dick? I don’t know if I should be flattered or disturbed.’

‘Depends,’ JJ says, matching Otabek’s serious tone. ‘Is your dick flattering or disturbing?’

‘I can’t believe you,’ Otabek mumbles.

‘I can’t believe you love me,’ Jean fires back, and then pauses as if he doesn’t realize it came out that way.

‘Too bad,’ Otabek says, measured. ‘Because I do. Get used to it.’

‘You love me,’ JJ repeats, giddy. ‘You love me.’

‘Yeah, genius, glad to see the crash didn’t affect your listening comprehension skills.’

‘You looooove me. Wow.’ Then, JJ’s expression turns suddenly serious. He’s biting on his lip, even, as he looks at Otabek all careful-like. ‘You’ll tell me that again when I’m not drugged up to my gills, right?’

Otabek slides their fingers together, and nods. ‘I will. And every day, for the rest of our lives.’

For the rest of our lives, JJ mouths.

For the rest of our lives, Otabek nods, a promise.

#jjbekweek #jjbekweek2017 #jjbek #yuri on ice #yoi #listen... it's 19th here.... im very bad at being patient and waiting my turn #.txt

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stilinski-jpeg · 7 years

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Assassin: Chapter 6

A/N: Guys, I did not edit this but only so I could get this up tonight ! I will edit it in the morning, so I really hope this makes sense until then. Thank you to all the people that helped me with this fic, I’m far too tired to tag them but they know who they are. Sorry for the late post. Goodnight ❤️❤️

Warnings: I honestly dont know ran. Could be triggering, and there's smut

Word Count: 5455

The Whole Series : [here]

Mitch was almost catatonic as he stared blankly across the finely finished wooden desk at the wall adorned with framed doctorate degrees and accolades. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there or how even he’d found himself in there, but his mind was so overwhelmed with thoughts that he didn’t even really think about the reason. Mitch had been in his line of work for a very long time. Killing bad people was his hobby and his job, and he liked it. It kept his mind off of all the things that were now flooding in his brain.

Somehow, he proved to be unable to save the people he loved. First his supposed-to-be fiancé was murdered by terrorists. Which landed him in his current line of work, everyday he was alive just to inform her. But when she came into his life, he didn't know he could even have that same feeling again.

Although she was laying in a bed just a few doors down the hall, it did little to comfort him. He knew she was still hurting, he heard her screaming almost every night since they brought her there. Every time, he would catapult out of bed and run down the hall to her. Mitch knew that did little to comfort her, but he wasn't sure what else he could do. His heart ached when thinking about her, thinking about how long it took him to save her, thinking about what they did to her.

A week into her being taken, Mitch knew where she was. They all did, but the CIA was completely against him going in with the risk of losing the both of them. No matter how much he raved and ranted, they wouldn’t go in. The day he got the “okay”, he was packed and ready to go; determined to save her that minute.

“Rapp!” Herley’s loud voice boomed into the small room, interrupting his thoughts. Mitch could tell by his tone that he was angry, but couldn’t care less about what exactly. Mitch didn’t move, he didn’t respond. He just stayed fixated on the wall opposite of him.

“What the hell are you doing in here? We had a briefing with the attorney general forty five minutes ago and you were supposed to be there to give your report, and I find you sitting here looking at the wall!” He yelled, standing right next to Mitch who still didn’t look at him.

“You can sit here and mope around like a chump just because your girlfriend was taken hostage.” He barked again, this time giving Mitch a slight push.

Normally, Mitch would be completely pissed off at this point and it would end up in a brawl between the two. But he couldn’t right now, he couldn’t give in to the unorthodox tactics of Stan Hurley. So he didn’t respond, choosing to ignore the old man instead. Which only fueled the fire that Stan had been building inside him since he walked out of the meeting. He bent down, grabbed the collar of Mitch’s shirt and lifted him until he was eye level with him.

“You are one sad son of a bitch.” He growled at Mitch, who’d had enough of Stan for one night.

Rapp placed his hands over Stan’s and pried them off of him, his eyes staring dangerously into the old man’s. Stan kept the eye contact, but didn’t fight back when Mitch finally pulled his hands away and began to walking away.

“They’re not going to stop until they have her, Rapp. And next time you might not be able to save her.” Stan called out after him.

Something fierce erupted within Mitch’s body at Stan’s words. A small part of him knew that the old spy was right, that she could be taken again and that even if he found her next time, she might not be alive. But a greater part of him knew, that he’d never let that happen again.

“There won’t be a next time.” Mitch rasped, before slipping out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I’m cold, colder than I remember being when I fell asleep. I'm curled in a ball on the floor, the hard cement cutting into my cheek as I lay pressed against it. My eyes are shut, but I know where I am. I know I'm in the room, I know I’m not safe. I start to shake knowing any second Victor and Bates would be back to inflict some new form of inhuman torture on me. I curl into myself further, shivering as the cold thought crept up my back. A loud noise, the sound of a lock unlatching maybe, echoed into the room. I could hear them coming into the room, their footsteps so loud the closer they came... it was almost deafening. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out, no one can hear me anyway.

My throat was throbbing, a scorching hot burn filled it and I didn't know where the fire was coming from. My eyes stung, making fast tears stream down my face. I wasn’t sure what was happening until I felt warm arms, hard around my waist forcing me to an equally warm body, that I realized I was screaming. I never remembered starting to scream, I only remember the terrifying images of the two large men in dark uniforms coming towards me and an unprecedented fear rocking through my body.

I fought off the arms around me, screaming for them to get off me, to not touch me. Mitch’s gruff voice rang in my ears, snapping me out of my fit. I gasped loudly, looking up and meeting Mitch’s soft brown eyes. I turned into his body, sobbing wildly into his shirt as he hushed me tentatively; smoothing my hair back out of my face.

“You’re not there.” He reminded me. “They can’t hurt you.”

I tired to respond but, every time I opened my mouth, an even louder sob would pour out of my lips. Mitch only held me tighter, kissing my head softly. It took several minutes for me to calm down, my eyes aching from the amount of crying I’d done.

“I’m sorry.” I choked out.

“Sorry?” He questioned, pulling me back slightly so he could look down at me. “For what?”

“For making you come in here every night.” I said simply, surprised that it wasn’t more obvious.

He chuckled halfheartedly, “You’re not making me do anything. I want to be here for you… because I couldn’t be before.”

His face fell fractionally, guilt filling his eyes. My stomach turned as I watched the war inside of him rage on. It took several days of seeing him for me to realize I wasn’t dreaming. But he was different than I’d remembered him. It’d been a month since I’d seen him last and it has been hard on the both of us; he walked differently— talked differently even. I couldn’t understand it at first. I thought that my trauma had made me more aware of my surroundings and, in that, of the people I thought I knew, But when I heard Stan yelling at Mitch one night about moping around, because he couldn’t save me; I finally understood. I’ve only known vaguely of Mitch’s past relationship. But whatever happened to her, I know he hated himself for it. My capturing brought forth all the suppressed feelings he’d been harbouring for God knows how long.

“You don’t have to, Mitch.” I whispered, bowing my head. I didn’t want to be the reason he didn’t get sleep at night.

He lifted my chin, our eyes meeting again. “There’s nowhere in the world I want to be more than right here, with you.”

I gave him a small smile, my gaze fleeting to his lips before catching myself and focusing back on his eyes. He smiled and it warmed my body, deliciously. The feeling, however, turned to complete dread at the thought of him seeing my body, let alone touching it. Being captured had done a number on me, mentally but also physically. My body was covered in scars and bruises, virtually from head to toe. I’d been destroyed, desecrated. I hardly recognized my own body with how damaged it was. I cringed at the thought of him running his hands over all the ugly that was left there.

I nuzzled my head into his chest, effectively ending the sexual tension I had created. After what I'd been through the last thing I wanted was to have sex, but God did I want Mitch. He chuckled, but he maneuvered himself better on the bed to be more comfortable and held me. We laid like that for awhile, the silence only being broken by our breathing.

“I don’t want to be helpless again.” I said into his chest.

He hummed as if barely conscious, rustling slightly before resting his head on top of mine. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not, I couldn't wake him again just to vent. He’s done enough for me and the least I could do was let him sleep. But my mind wouldn’t settle, I couldn’t get that thought out of my head. I don’t want to be helpless again.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, but I wasn’t sure when or for how long. Yet, it didn’t stop me from waking up in a fit of quiet, hiccuping sobs and tears again. This time I was quiet enough not to disturb the slumbering man wrapped around me. Unwrapping Mitch’s arms from the tight grip they had on me, I rolled out of the bed, shivering as I left his body heat and realizing how cold it was in here.

I'd been wearing the long shirt around my body since I was first brought to the house we were in. I took such a long shower that the water began to run cold, but I didn't care. I wanted the whole experience to wash off me and flow down the drain. I’d been wearing the shirt to sleep in for so long that it was stained with my tears, and I almost wanted to chastise myself for it. Deciding to give myself a break, I shrugged the item off and pulling a big jumper from where it was slung over a chair. I instantly smelled the scent of a familiar cologne, as it filled my nose. I smiled slightly, letting the sleeves fall over my hands and lifting them to my nose.

The room was filled with Mitch's soft snores as he slept peacefully on my bed. I envied him for being able to sleep so soundly, knowing that it would be a long time before I found that again; if ever. I peered through around the room, making out what I could in the dull light. I quickly became frustrated with the lack of light that was being cast into the room and looked to see where it was coming from anyways. When I reached the door, I noticed the light from the hallway slipped through the underneath of it, warm and yellow. I hadn't noticed it until now, but for the first time ever I wondered what was on the other side of the door. Furthermore what the rest of the placed that I had been living for weeks now looked like.

I walked over to the door and pulling it open, the light blinded me instantly. I cover my eyes with the back of my hand, letting myself against. It wasn't much, just a long corridor with several doors. But it was more than I'd seen in a long time so I decided to take a walk around the place where we’d been staying. I made a venture through almost every room three times. There was a library with books that were to mind numbing to keep my attention, a study that looks hardly touch, a few empty bedrooms, and a bathroom. It wasn't much and I was rather unimpressed with the whole place, not really sure what I'd really expected. I almost decided to crawl back into bed with Mitch, allowing his arms to engulf me again even though I knew I'd probably lay awake from or the rest of the night. But my eyes locked onto another door down the hall that I hadn’t noticed before. I wasn't sure how I'd missed it, but chose to take a look before retiring to me bed.

Letting my hand land on the knob, I twisted and stepped forwards, not expecting the door to be locked or my nose to collide with the solid wood. I frowned, rubbing over the sore spot and wondering just why it was locked since none of the other doors in the house were. Lucky for me, my dad had taught me how to pick simple locks like this and I grinned, pulled out a bobby pin from my hair as strands of hair fell out. I turned heading back to the study I'd been in earlier and rifling through the drawers until I found a paper clip. I smiled at the small piece of metal and padded back to the locked door and kneeling in front of it.

Soon enough, the satisfying click of a door sounded softly and I pinned the clip back in my hair, pushing the door open and stepping inside the room. I let the door fall close behind, barely noticing when it didn't shut all the way. I searched the wall near the door for a light switch before finding it and flicking it light on. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the white fluorescent light before they widened, processing what lined the walls. Rows and rows of different guns hung on like artwork. An armoury much more advanced than the one my father had ever owned, adorning the walls.

Adrenaline surged my veins as a new sense of safety, one I hadn’t felt since before the incident, flooded me. I swallowed thickly, letting my fingers brush over the hard metals with varying textures and grips. I stopped in front of a small handgun, reaching out to take it from the wall. I turned the object over and over in my hands, glancing up, looking around, almost like I was going to be caught somewhere I shouldn't be (which I probably was).

I looked up, letting my eyes roam around the room again. They landed on a neatly hung collection of firing headphones, which sparked my intrigue. I took a step over to them eyeing the closely, furrowing my brow again. It was strange to have the headphones without a range to use them at. I glanced around again, the gun still in hand, more thoroughly this time.

Yet another door I’d failed to notice stood slightly ajar, almost inviting me to go through to it. I knew already what lie beyond it, before I ever pushed it open. But it still surprised me when a single man firing range was displayed before me. I smiled, feeling a strong sense of confidence resonate within me. It was like a message from god. And I took it, turning back to the first room for a pair of headphones that I slipped onto my ears. Upon seeing it, I grabbed a round of ammunition and practically skipped back to the room with the firing range. I loaded the gun just like my dad had taught me, making to double check that the safety was on until I was ready to fire. I noticed a pair of discarded glasses, I quickly picked them up and pushed them onto my face.

The confidence that had once surged through me was quickly dwindling as I took a nervous step towards the booth, aiming for the previously punctured and well-worn out target. Clicking the safety off the gun, I raised it up with both hands sealed around it tightly. I took a deep breath, calming my nerves and remembering that despite not wanting too, I was to keep both eyes open and focus through the lens. I remembered how my dad used to laugh wildly at me when ever we went hunting and I shut my eyes to fire.

’That'll never do in a gunfight, love.’ He'd chuckle.

My finger was trembling on the trigger and I tried my hardest to stilled them. I took another deep breath before clenching around it tightly and letting the resounding shot ring out through the room, tearing into the outer edge of the target.

I wasn’t, however, expecting the kick back, the weapon jumping backwards in my arms the blunt end hitting my cheekbone and sending my body stumbling backward as I barely caught myself from falling. I cursed under my breath as I felt strong pair of arms wrapped around my waist to stop me from stumbling back any further. A chuckle was pressed into my neck, stubble tickling my skin. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d fall for me that quick.” He teased and I slapped his arm, pouting aimlessly as my eyebrows furrowed. I pulled the headphones, narrowing my eyes at him. He let me go so I could face him easier.

“Don’t tease me. I didn’t know the kickback would be that strong.” He didn’t stop snickering, the soft sounds filling the air and it was nice to see the usual apparent creases on his forehead gone as he smiled with me.

“Good thing I’d be the one aiming between the two of us.” He winked and I felt my face heat up, his hand cupping my jaw, thumb running over the sensitive patch where I’d injured myself. The smile fell from his face, replaced by a frown. A sad frown though, not the usual defensive one he normally held. No, this one was full of sorrow with a hint of worry.

“That’s going to be a nasty bruise.” He mumbled, letting his lips brush over my forehead delicately, hand threading into my hair and pulling me into a hug, my face pressed to his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, my face will be as ugly as the rest of my body then. It’ll match.” I sighed, my hands finding a place on his hips and he pulled away. He eyes were sad, matching his sad frown and his jaw set as he looked at me.

“But, you’re beautiful.”

The comment caught me off guard as a slew of emotions hit me all roughly at the same time. I wanted to blush, but also wanted to yell at him for lying to me. I knew my new body was anything but beautiful. What I wasn't sure of was whether he thought so or not. I looked into his eyes, looking for any trace of doubt in them. I found none which was more frustrating than if I'd found any at all. Mitch was quickly becoming a conundrum that I couldn't figure out. Which made me pleasantly cautious of him.

He had a ghost of a smile playing on his lips when I disconnected from my thoughts. I didn't dare ask why, so pulled away from and returned back to the booth. I needed this, I needed to be a better shot. I felt safe knowing I had the gun in my hand. But after what happened, I was too shaky to use it anymore. I pulled my headphones back on, lifting the gun once again.

I was startled when I felt Mitch’s lean body pressed against mine, had it been literally anyone else I would have turned and aim the gun right in there face. But Mitch had some sort of hold over me, that prevented me from not trusting him. It stemmed all the way back to when we first met, this overwhelming sense of familiarity coming over me as our eyes caught one another's.

I think that's the reason we'd come so far. It was way, although batter and bruised, I was able to maintain a sliver of hope when captured by an enemy that wasn't mine. I felt safe with Mitch Rapp, a kind of safe I hadn't felt since before my father died.

His arms reached up, laying themselves over mine that were still extended outwards. He slightly adjusted my positioning of the gun as well my grip on it. “You want to keep it straight, like this” he showed me, his words tickling my ear.

“And you need to stand like this.” He ordered, removing his hands from mine and placing them on my waist as he set his foot in between both of mine and tapped them until they were separated at his desired spacing.

I felt my core ignite at his touch, the warmth of his hand radiating through my jumper. I tried to ignore the sensations, not sure if I was ready to head down that path. Although, I definitely wanted too.

“Now,” he said, his face back next to mine. “You have to know your target, but that's not where you shoot.”

I did my best to focus on his words, but his lips moving so close to me mixed with the occasional scraping for his beard sent the most beautiful jolt through my body. I was confused by the way my body seemed to so easily respond to him.

“Then you fire. Got it?” He finished and I cursed myself for not paying better attention.

“Think so?” I said, my bewilderment evident.

He chuckled, the noise welcoming, releasing one of my hips of his hands and setting it underneath my arm to keep it straight. “Just breathe, aim, and shoot. In that order.”

I nodded, looking down the line of sight of the pistol at the abused target. I felt my palms begin to sweat and my finger uneasy on the trigger. I was never afraid of anything, but suddenly the target turned into Victor or Bates. They're angry eyes fixated on me, setting my nerves on edge.

“Breathe, aim, shoot. You got this.” He reassured me, his voice abruptly bringing back to the present.

I took his words in. Taking a deep calming breath, I aimed for the target (specifically at the center of the head), and finally, without a sending thought, I pulled the trigger back. The bullet dislodged from the chamber, shooting out towards the target. The kickback was expected this time and I was able to bring it back down quickly. I tore off my safety glasses eager to see where the bullet had landed.

I smiled when I saw that I had hit, just off center, of where I wanted to hit. It wasn't perfect, but I didn't miss and that's all I cared about. I pulled off my headphones placing them and the gun down on ledge of the booth before turning in Mitch’s arm, drawing him into a big hug.

“Oh my god! I fucking hit it! Holy shit! Thank you!” I squealed with such utter excitement I was practically jumping in his arms. He let a laugh roll out of his chest, as he hugged me back.

I pulled back slightly from him, a big smile plastered on his face. The one on his, however, was one of contentment. Like the sheer thought that he had made me happy was enough for him. And maybe it was the over amount of joy I felt for my small victory or maybe it was the feelings I kept swallowing every time I was around Mitch, but either way I didn't stop myself when I pushed my head forward colliding his lips with mine.

We stumbled into my room, the door banging off the wall, as we tore article of clothing one after the other from each other. Our lips somehow never disconnected, which lead to a lot of bumping into everything on our way to my room. It was when he went to pull off my jumper, that I stopped him. Pulling out of our kiss, my stomach turning.

He was left in just his jeans that hung open, letting his dark blue boxer briefs peek through. He looked down at me his eyes searching my face intently. I bit down on my lip, pulling up the collar of the jumper higher on my neck. He understood instantly, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek.

“We don't have to- I just want you to be comfortable.” He said softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

Truth was, I was comfortable with him. I only felt normal when he was with me. But the fear of him touching me, the bare me, the one that hardly anyone had seen and not even I had touched; made me feel sick. But I couldn't stop the feeling between my legs that ached with Mitch standing in front of me half naked, staring down at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.

“Can we go slow?” I said finally, swallowing thickly at my own words and turning my gaze bashfully to the floor.

He pulled me into a hung, pressing his lips to my forehead and holding me there for a long minute before speaking. “We can do whatever you want.”

I exhaled, relaxing for what felt like the first time in forever. Mitch walked over to the open door and closed it, ending the light provided from the hallway and cloaking the room in darkness. It was quiet for awhile as our eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“You sure you want to do this?” Mitch asked his voice coming from behind me. A second later, his warm presence apparent as his front met my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his words ringing sweetly in my ear.

I nodded, nerves preventing me from speaking. But I mustered up enough courage to pull off my only remaining piece of clothing, my jumper, and letting it fall to the floor. I could feel Mitch's chest muscles perfectly now against my back, lean and tight. He ran his hands softly down my arms, creating goosebumps as he began kissing along the crook of my neck and onto my shoulder. I sighed gently, leaning my head to the opposite side to give him better access. He wrapped his arms around my waist, schlepping me backwards toward him.

I savoured every stroke of his lips, every chafe of his stubbled face. Allowing it stir the pot of desire within me. Freed one of his hands from my waist, letting it move smoothly down past my belly button and brush against my heat. I hissed, feeling my core grow more wet at his touch.

“Please.” I whispered, not even knowing the words were going to fall out of mouth.

“Anything for you.” He hummed back in my ear before skimming his fingers between my folds and swirling them in my arousal.

I layed my head back on his shoulder as he nibbled tenderly on my ear and moved his finger skilfully in different patterns and rotations. I rolled my hips against his dexterous digits, creating a whole new friction that left my breathing uneven. I clutched on to his arms as the my climax slowly bubbling up in me.

“Mitch.” I breathed. He didn't respond, he only turned his head into mine our lips connecting and intensify my pleasure. He moved his fingers faster, while his lips moved lazily over mine and it was only a matter of time before he had me cumming all over his fingers as I moaned into our kiss.

I pulled away, giving both a second to catch our breath. I could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his erection practically begging to burst from its confinements. I snaked my hand awkwardly behind me, pulling at his jeans and boxers with one hand; wordlessly telling him I wanted them of. He detached his arms from around me, zipping his pants down the rest of the way before shimmying out of his last bit of clothing. I turned to face him, craving his lips in mine again. I heard his garments hit the floor and I seized the opportunity to push me back onto the bed. I barely saw him bounce, but I heard the springs creaking and his quiet chortle as he did.

I smiled, climbing on top of him and resting just above his pelvis using his chest for balance. Even in the dark, I could see his the glimmer in his eyes as he beamed up at me. I bent down, giving him a chaste kiss before sitting back up again. He whined, making me smile again. He curled his arm around me, lifting his body up so it was parallel to mine. I giggled at his sudden change of position, placing my legs on either side of him for better symmetry.

“Kiss me.” He murmured enticingly.

I tied my arms around his neck, leaning in to kiss him once again. This was quickly becoming my favourite hobby, even if my lips were becoming more swollen with every kiss. The want for him was suddenly overwhelming and just touching him wasn't enough, I want to be as close to him as I could possibly be. I migrated one of my arms from around his neck, trailing it down his body, and reaching between us. I enveloped my hand around his length, feeling it twitch in my hand. He let out a sigh, even though our lips stayed connected as I began pumping him slowly. He hummed as I ran his tip along my sensitive bundle of nerves, before aligning it with my entrance

I moved from our kiss, readying myself for the feeling I'd been wanting for awhile now. I slide down slowly on his sex, the fullness he gave me making let out a moan I didn't even know was in me. Mitch's hands latched onto my hips, holding me at his hilt until I'd fully adjust to his size. I held onto his shoulders, squeezing and praying I wasn't hurting him by doing so. With his guidance, I began moving at an even tempo. Sliding all the way up before ploughing back down on him. He groaned, clutching my hips tighter but still allowed me to go my own pace.

It was mesmeric, the way he felt inside me. He filled me handsomely, while the sounds he uttered had me pining for more. When his lips pressed against my chest I lost it, wanton moans escaping my throat and my speed picking up almost instantaneously. I bouncing against him, hips own hips carefully starting their own rhythm. I enthralled my fingers into his hair, tugging softly on the stands at the base of his neck. This stirred something in him because he held my hips tight so I could move on him any longer and began plunging into my perfectly.

I left my head fall back as his lips attacked to my skin and his dick pushed into quickly and deeply. His own moans mixing with mine until the whole room was alive with them. This time when my orgasm collapsed on to me, I didn't see it coming. Mitch's lips were working their way back up my body towards my neck, when it happened. My walls closed in around him, tighten the space he was moving in. I clutched the stands of his hair for dear life as his name tumbled from my lips.

I couldn't be sure which one of those things had him cuming seconds after me, but he did. His warm fluids coating my walls as both of us rode out the rest of our high.

Mitch was sleeping again, his snores soft and content as his body intertwined with mine. I was enjoying the safety that he provided me. I could let my guard down without any fear that I'd be vulnerable.

But I couldn't help my thoughts as I wondered what would happen if Mitch wasn't there one day. Like he wasn't before. I came to the quick realisation that I couldn't rely on Mitch to keep me safe. Where it was nice to know he was there, at any moment he couldn't be. I wanted to be prepare for that moment. I need to be.

That's when I decide that I would stop hiding away in my room. Stop letting my dreams take hold of my life. Stop being a victim and start being a survivor. In the morning, whatever it took, I would make Mitch help me learn to survive, to be a warrior. To be what my dad had always wanted me to be;

a fighter.

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sherristockman · 7 years

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What Happens When You Don’t Brush Your Teeth? Dr. Mercola By Dr. Mercola Brushing your teeth twice a day is an indispensable health habit that affects more than just your teeth. The state of your oral health most definitely plays a role in optimizing your overall health and well-being. Regardless of your age or the number of years you've been using a toothbrush, it's a good idea to make sure you are addressing the important aspects of dental hygiene. Bad breath, plaque, yellow teeth, tooth decay and other health problems are easily avoidable when you adopt an effective oral-care routine. I hope you will take a few minutes to learn what happens when you don't brush your teeth, or don't brush them properly. What Can You Do About Bad Breath? If you've ever overlooked brushing your teeth before leaving the house for the day, you have probably already experienced the most common side effect of ignoring your oral health: bad breath, also known as halitosis. Without brushing, food odors will linger in your mouth, causing foul odors to emit as you breathe and speak. Some food odors may be mildly tolerable, like coffee, while others are downright obnoxious, like garlic or fish. To prevent bad breath, not only is it important to brush your teeth twice a day, but also your tongue. Since it is actively involved in the chewing and swallowing process, food particles and odors can easily remain on your tongue after you brush your teeth. You can brush your tongue using either your regular toothbrush or an instrument designed specifically for tongue brushing. If you are prone to foul breath and have not seen improvement through changes in your oral hygiene routine, you also may want to address: • Alcohol consumption or smoking: The scent of alcohol and cigarettes is strong and often lingers on your breath. If you're looking for ways to curb your smoking habit, check out my advice on how to quit smoking • Medications: Some pharmaceutical drugs cause dry mouth. Because saliva rinses odor-producing germs from your mouth, the absence of saliva may result in bad breath. If you suspect the root of your foul breath is drug-induced, see your doctor about changing or adjusting your medications • Mouth breathing and snoring: Both of these conditions can lead to dry mouth and/or bad breath and are worthy of your time and attention to address • Your gut health: Optimizing your gut flora will help fight bad breath because it strengthens your immune system and balances the bacteria in your gut; eating fermented foods is a great way to improve your gut and oral health Yellow Teeth: A Sign of Poor Habits or Staining Foods and Beverages If you have ever fallen into a pattern of brushing less frequently, you may have noticed your teeth will generally turn yellow. Your teeth take on this dingy hue due to the buildup of bacteria, food debris and plaque, which conspire to diminish the natural whiteness of your teeth. Yellow teeth or teeth stains are almost always a noticeable result of smoking. If you consume certain beverages and foods very often, they may also be contributing to the darkening of your teeth. According to WebMD,1 tea has the potential to stain your teeth worse than coffee. Tea boasts a higher stain potential because it contains acid, as well as tannins, plant-based compounds that make it easier for stains to stick to your teeth. "Tea causes teeth to stain much worse than coffee," says Dr. Mark Wolff, professor at New York University college of dentistry. "Iced tea or brewed tea — it doesn't matter."2 Acidic foods can also lead to teeth yellowing or staining due to their ability to wear down your tooth enamel. Certain types of foods may cause staining due to their intrinsic properties, such as berries and curry, for example. I have often mentioned oil pulling with coconut oil as a superb way to cleanse and flush harmful bacteria from your mouth. This is an oral hygiene habit I invest in every day. Because of its high concentration of antibacterial medium chain triglycerides (MCTs), coconut oil is ideal for oil pulling. If you have yellow teeth, you'll be happy to know that one of the positive side effects of oil pulling is that coconut oil naturally whitens your teeth. Try it for a few weeks and see what a difference it makes! Plaque Buildup Sets the Stage for Tooth Decay and Gum Disease Plaque is the sticky film that forms when the bacteria in your mouth build up on your teeth. If plaque remains on your teeth for too long, it begins to eat away at them, making them weak. Untreated plaque sets the stage for tooth decay and gum disease. While plaque is mostly colorless and may be hard to see, you know it's there because of how it feels. Dr. Margaret Culotta-Norton, former president of the Washington D.C. Dental Society, says:3 "Plaque makes the teeth feel rough and slimy. It feels like the teeth have 'sweaters' on them … Plaque will never go away completely, but it can be controlled with good oral hygiene and visits to the dentist." Tooth Decay: How to Keep It in Check You may have already suffered from one of the most common effects that result from not brushing your teeth properly: tooth decay. Tooth decay often results in the presence of cavities. A few years ago, I did an interview with Dr. Tim Rainey, a pioneer in biological dentistry, who presented the many advantages of minimally invasive dentistry. Rainey suggests tooth decay is primarily driven by the symbiotic relationship between bacteria and acidity, which creates a pathogenic bioflora in your mouth. If you're continually lowering the pH in your mouth, you start losing calcium, which is necessary for strong, healthy teeth. A calcium deficiency results in more porous teeth, which allows plaque that has turned pathogenic to attack a weak tooth. Once certain types of bacteria are able to penetrate your tooth enamel, they release enzymes that begin to break down the collagen in the inner structure of the tooth. Besides ensuring you brush and floss regularly, you can keep tooth decay in check by: • Avoiding processed foods and sugar, which will help reduce the bacteria that cause tooth decay • Eating a diet rich in fresh, whole foods, grass fed meats and fermented vegetables, all of which will ensure you get plenty of minerals for strong bones and teeth • Balancing your consumption of acid and alkaline foods • Brushing with baking soda at night to alkalize the pH of your mouth • Using a water-flossing system to remove smaller food particles that may not be removed with conventional dental floss alone If you have young children, be sure they consume any chewable vitamins prior to brushing their teeth. Chewable vitamins can be acidic, and leaving the acid on the teeth for long periods of time will very often result in tooth decay. Periodontal Disease Can Lead to Tooth Loss According to the American Academy of Periodontology (AAP),4 there are several types of periodontal disease. Gingivitis, evidenced by red, swollen or bleeding gums, is the mildest form. It's possible to reverse gingivitis with professional treatment and improved oral home care. Untreated gingivitis usually advances to periodontitis, a process the AAP explains as follows:5 "With time, plaque can spread and grow below the gum line. Toxins produced by the bacteria in plaque irritate the gums. The toxins stimulate a chronic inflammatory response … and the tissues and bone that support the teeth are broken down and destroyed. Gums separate from the teeth, forming pockets … that become infected. As the disease progresses, the pockets deepen and more gum tissue and bone are destroyed. … Eventually, teeth can become loose and may have to be removed." If you suffer the misfortune of losing a tooth because of periodontal disease, be sure to review my past advice prior to getting a root canal or dental implant. In addition to regular brushing and flossing, you can best fight periodontal disease by: • Using a water-flossing system to remove smaller food particles that may not be removed with conventional dental floss alone • Adopting the practice of oil pulling, which was mentioned above After oil pulling, you may reduce bacterial growth in your mouth even further by increasing your oral pH. To do so, mix 1 teaspoon of baking soda in 6 ounces of water and gargle. This will alkalize the pH of your mouth. Because bacteria thrive in an acidic environment, the increased pH will discourage bacterial growth. How the Health of Your Mouth Affects Other Areas of Your Body Brushing your teeth regularly is important because when bacteria in your mouth isn't removed, it taxes your immune system. When your immune system is burdened, you are at potential risk for health problems in other areas of your body. Dr. Matthew Messina, a nationally-recognized spokesperson for dentistry and member of the American Dental Association, notes you should be particularly concerned if you have bacteria under the gum line with access to your circulatory system, which can be dangerous. According to USA Today:6 "A dirty mouth has been linked to respiratory diseases such as pneumonia, heart attacks and even MRSA — in the case of dentures. MRSA, or methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, is a bacteria resistant to a variety of medications that can infect the bloodstream and lining of the heart." The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention indicates MRSA indeed can cause problems ranging from skin infections to sepsis and pneumonia to bloodstream infections.7 The fact MRSA is resistant to many of the most commonly prescribed antibiotics is also a cause for concern. Previously, I've discussed how your oral health affects the rest of your body. Final Thoughts About Caring for Your Teeth By now, you probably realize the importance of brushing your teeth. However, you may still be making one or more of these common mistakes when caring for your teeth:8,9 ✓ Brushing less than two minutes ✓ Keeping your toothbrush longer than three months (about 200 uses) ✓ Using a brush that is too hard, when a soft or extra soft brush will do ✓ Brushing up and down instead of using a circular motion at a 45-degree angle ✓ Locking into the same routine day after day, which may lull you into complacency ✓ Brushing more than twice a day and/or applying too much pressure, which may be hard on your gums and tooth enamel I would add that brushing with toothpaste containing fluoride is another common mistake. To avoid exposure to fluoride and other dangerous toothpaste toxins, I recommend you use toothpaste containing natural ingredients, such as coconut oil, baking soda and essential oils. For more tips on how to brush your teeth correctly, check out the Life Hacks video featured below.

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