#WHO was responsible for this. my blood pressure shot up through the roof & i need compensation

[radialarch]

why did this show put woo do hwan on his knees and then make him say "please use me for a month" in the most desperate tone known to man

#i'm sorry??? #am i losing my mind. is bloodhounds some sort of fever dream i personally dreamt up #WHO was responsible for this. my blood pressure shot up through the roof & i need compensation #a well-knitted story

[s-4pphics]

click! 4 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 6.7k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed

This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to! 

Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face! 

… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then? 

It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds! 

Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?

Meow! Meow! 

“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete. 

You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket! 

“Hi.” 

Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur. 

“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

Meow!

Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?” 

Meow! Meow!

Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?” 

“Toothle— “

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”

“I already told yo— “

“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”

“Pickle.” 

“What.” 

“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is. 

She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—

“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips. 

“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “

“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her. 

“… Guide you?” She smirks. 

Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set. 

“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her! 

“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows. 

“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door. 

Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod. 

“So, explain. What does all this do?” 

“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.” 

You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.” 

“Mhm.” 

Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.” 

Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.” 

A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose. 

Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck— 

“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves. 

“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God. 

“Stay right there. That’s perfect.” 

“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.” 

“Twist your body a little.” 

I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that. 

You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her. 

“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…” 

Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working. 

And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash. 

“You like this.” She notes. 

Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?” 

Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!” 

She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.” 

More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle. 

She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.” 

You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?” 

“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.” 

Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events! 

“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?” 

Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.” 

You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.” 

She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her. 

“Alright?” 

You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her. 

“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside. 

She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.

“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen. 

Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink. 

She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.

“Hey, um… You okay?”

You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly. 

A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.” 

“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils. 

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers. 

“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.” 

Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.” 

The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you. 

She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her. 

“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face. 

She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers. 

Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble. 

The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines. 

Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite. 

The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close. 

One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall. 

She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips. 

“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?” 

“Be serious.” She says flatly. 

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! 

The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “

“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat. 

You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.

“E—Ellie— “

She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”

“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent. 

You yank the door open and your heart plummets. 

“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes. 

“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”

A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.” 

“No need. I’m sorry, to— “

But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?” 

You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.” 

“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “

“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut. 

“Was it Carol?” 

You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar. 

“Hm?”

“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever. 

“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.” 

Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.” 

Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful. 

“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.” 

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty. 

IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you. 

“Abby.” 

“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon. 

“I’m in a predicament.” 

“What’s the matter.” 

“I think I like Ellie.” 

Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?” 

“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.” 

“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug. 

“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.” 

“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head. 

“Are you gonna tell her?” 

You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.” 

“I don’t think she does.” 

“You don’t know her, Abby— “

“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.” 

Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?” 

She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” 

You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.

“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.” 

“Like you’re gonna remember.” 

“Fuck off! I never forget anything!” 

“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “

Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news. 

“Abby, I can't tell her— “

“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.” 

… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter. 

“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown. 

You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open. 

You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking. 

“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?” 

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.” 

Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “

She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?” 

Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!” 

A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.” 

You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.” 

“You want to.” 

You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.” 

You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now! 

To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!

You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—

Meow! Meow!

Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame. 

“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer. 

You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate. 

You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter. 

“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself. 

“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood. 

“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary. 

“I didn’t ask.”

You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck. 

Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top. 

Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust. 

A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit. 

Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder. 

“Agh, fuck, fuck— “

You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog… 

Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz. 

“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “

“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.” 

She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.” 

You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.” 

A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer. 

“You ate my fucking Doritos.” 

“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling. 

Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?” 

Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “ 

“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face. 

This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs. 

You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?” 

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.” 

“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “

Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.” 

She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “

Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails. 

You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips. 

Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume. 

“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat. 

“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips

“Sure?” You breathe. 

She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “

“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance 

“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “

Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.” 

“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes. 

You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?” 

“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “

Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin. 

Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing. 

You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to! 

“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble. 

She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.” 

“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good. 

“Go wash your hands,” she croaks. 

“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep. 

“What?” 

“You… You don’t want to…?” 

You look around blankly. 

“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?” 

You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her. 

You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener. 

“Ellie.” 

“What.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

A scoff from her, “I don’t care.” 

You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock. 

She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?” 

“What.” 

“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing. 

You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?” 

She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?” 

Yes. “No.” 

Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head. 

Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble. 

More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener. 

“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?” 

Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again. 

“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced. 

Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks. 

“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them. 

“Why.” 

“Because.” You say with finality. 

She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?” 

The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…

Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…” 

“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?” 

“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch. 

“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “

More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “

Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.” 

“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”

“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick. 

Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!” 

“Dude, I’m— “

“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “

Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage. 

“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “

The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats. 

Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die? 

Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here. 

What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father. 

Almost. 

Click, click, click, click, click—

One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—

Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug. 

Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you. 

You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors. 

She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here. 

You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye. 

The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect. 

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry. 

Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom. 

And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke. 

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once. 

Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately. 

Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you. 

Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it. 

Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you. 

Dina. 

Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad. 

Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece. 

Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point. 

Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man. 

You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her. 

You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder. 

Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.

You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you. 

So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide. 

Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation. 

The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway. 

You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt. 

A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged. 

You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands. 

You’d give anything to be able to call your mother. 

You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking. 

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “

“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless. 

A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer. 

“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.

You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”

She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming. 

“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead. 

Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?” 

A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort. 

“I love you, too.” 

heyyyy: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧ #ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

[mediocre-writerr]

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending. 

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers. 

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally. 

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,” 

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside. 

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!” 

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else. 

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran. 

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”. 

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?” 

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off. 

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,” 

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,” 

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her. 

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers. 

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,” 

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!” 

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie. 

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair. 

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s. 

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

#jennifer jareau imagines #jennifer jareau x reader #jj criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[yeojaa]

come over, pt. i

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  this is pwp.  smut in the forms of:  kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex.  use of the pet name shy girl.  wc. 6.2k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life.  author note.  this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang​.  while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way.  tysm for reading!  (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that.  You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library.  He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room.  (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).  

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.  

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights.  You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.) 

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas.  It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed.  One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!"  You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks.  The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs.  You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands.  “Stop stealing all my chips.” 

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered.  (You know better though.  Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for. 

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips.  They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar.  (Note to self:  thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,”  you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows.  “I’m just—“  Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades.  “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout.  You aren’t actually.  The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter.  It’s just annoying.  You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls.  It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good.  People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail.  One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.) 

“Pay attention to the movie.”  The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time.  You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.  

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were.  Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin.  Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him.  The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised.  You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite.  You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful.  You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.  

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery;  he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong.  Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,”  he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room.  Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.”  It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight.  Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level.  It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him.  "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest.  It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.  

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh.  Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt.  It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up.  A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention.  It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit. 

A part of you wants to run from the room.  Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck.  It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop.  (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook."  You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away.  Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out.  Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.  

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests.  (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most.  Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw.  A sigh escapes before you can help it.  "Shy girl,”  he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not shy,”  you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you.  "We're watching a movie."  You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it. 

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips.  A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear. 

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be.  You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation.  Term paper due the next morning?  He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night.  Break something at a house party?  He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.”  He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's."  Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks.  So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh.  The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not.  They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt.  So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed.  “What’re you—“  The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people.  (Okay, not a lot, but enough.)  You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.  

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you.  There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck.  They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick.  Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day.  (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,”  he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky.  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending.  You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality.  You hope it doesn’t.  Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.  

“I’m not.”  

“Oh?”  There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach.  You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features.  “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he?  Of course he did.  Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though.  Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you.  Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet.  It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though. 

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair.  It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.  

“Oh my god,”  you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of  relief.  You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots.  “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in.  It’s his fault, after all.  

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed.  Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit.  You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth.  You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists.  Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this.  Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip.  There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands.  You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth.  A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels.  “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue.  You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.  

You want to be his pretty girl. 

"I want you.  I need more,"  you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth.  He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked. 

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips.  When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers.  They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease.  The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.  

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing.  (You swear you see stars;  you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving.  It feels so good to have him between your legs.  You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats.  Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself.  It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?”  You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.  

“Fuck.”  He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy.  He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves.  “You want a taste?  Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”  

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs.  You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.  

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.  His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else.  Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip.  It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy.  You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb. 

“Please.”  You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand.  You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing.  "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself.  It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.  

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs.  “Open up, ____,”  he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full.  “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind.  If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length.  A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives.  You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip.  Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away.  (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?"  You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie. 

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you.  The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion.  He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag.  Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand.  He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch.  It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more.  For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants.  As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.”  He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek.  You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up.  “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat.  It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now.  Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls.  When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks.  “Is it my turn yet?”  You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs.  Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.  

“Your turn?”  The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful.  It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed.  Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal.  “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,”  you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose.  Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did.  It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight.  He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared.  You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.”  Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air.  The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter.  Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me,"  you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks.  Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,”  Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck.  He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin.  You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit.  “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement;  or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees.  You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return.  You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need.  "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable.  Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.”  Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain.  You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes.  They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.  

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t.  It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?”  He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric.  Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.  

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.”  It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist.  You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core.  It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half. 

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help.  Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion.  “Oh my god,”  you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in.  “You’re so big.  I c-can’t—”  You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck.  A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder.  The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness.  “You feel so good, Kook.”  You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper.  “Please, move,”  you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you.  He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven.  When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out.  It sounds like that, anyway.  With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently;  you can practically feel him in your throat.  (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier.  You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake.  They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat. 

There’s slick all across your thighs.  You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in.  It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half.  "Harder, p-please."  Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes.  "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut.  Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits.  Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used.  You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking.  The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop.  A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?”  It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway.  (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward.  (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.)  "Like it so m-much.  Feels so good.”  You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him. 

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length.  You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years.  You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.  

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer:  every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much.  With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring.  "R-right there,"  you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?”  He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops.  They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.  

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.  

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care.  The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts.  He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered.  “Perfect,”  he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it.  You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more.  “So sensitive.  Such a shy girl.  Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon.  He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind.  It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves.  Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision.  Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over.  "So big.  It's too m-much.”  And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed. 

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap.  When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over. 

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit.  It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude.  It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses. 

"Kook—please—come for me.”  You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).  

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high.  You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop.  It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared.  “Are you okay?”  You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours.  He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,”  he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time.  “You’re welcome.”  It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for.  You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.  

“You too.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle​

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #heartsforbts #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts oneshot #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook.doc

[thefanbasewhore]

AHHHH Can you do something with being with Din and Mayfield when he takes his helmet off???

Summary: Din will not let you live with guilt, he offers you an alternative instead.

Paring: Din Djarin/female reader. But no use of Y/N

Chapter 15 spoilers, I tagged this post !!

Despite her protest Din slips past the pair, Mayfield's fingers digging into the flesh of her arm even though the layers of the stormtrooper suit it burns.

"Stop." He whispers close, only for she could hear. Her helmet was still on, he used that to his advantage by making it look like he was fixing the vocoder. "You're only going to attract attention to him."

Eyes drop from his own, turning slightly to insure the safety of her beloved. Din's back is facing them, messy curls surprise her. He took the helmet off?

It tickled his neck, she knew it was brown, he had told her on many occasions but it looked soft, pretty well kept despite always being always covered. It were times like this she wished she was closer, not to break his creed but to finally see what fingers look like running through the ringlets. Her mouth ran dry as a voice commanded him. Everything happened to fast, she gasps as Mayfield grips her wrist dragging her along with him.

The main reason being if Din knew he let her out of his sight, he would be no longer. She tries, really tries to look away but everything she ever wanted is right in front of her. It's a square jaw, soft pierced lips right below those a trimmed mustache. Eyes are warm, dark brown with hints of honey were the light illuminates through the windows. It's impossible to concentrate, the soft pout of his lips makes sure of that, having kissed those lips many times but they looked perfect.

He was beautiful, nothing she could have expected but everything she needed. Mayfield must have been thinking the same thing as words 'brown eyes' leaves his own mouth.

"And you?" The words go past deaf ears, but she quickly notices the words are for her the moment his carmel eyes meet hers back. He's caught her.

Suddenly she relieved the helmet is still on, embrassment is not easy to hide, it claims cheeks red makes skin blush up her neck. Mayfield answers for her, but the superior is still not happy.

"Take your helmet off trooper." Her eyes meet Mayfield's for any signs of run, or shoot but there is none. Din stiffs at his request, standing a little straighter, his panic clearly shown of his face.

Hair falls to shoulders, air instantly reaching her lungs quicker, more efficient. Valin stands a little straighter as well, a small hmmph with a sickly smile. "The empire allowed you to join? I thought one of the commanders would take you instead."

Mayfield's hand tighten around Din's hands to warn him not to move, luckily they are behind his back and out of sight.

"I'm a good shooter, sir." She answers loudly, Valin nods in response. When the attention is finally off she sighs to herself, now she can't hide the fact she can't take her eyes off of him. When Din's eyes meet hers again as Valin is tugging them towards a table, she can't help but notice the pure panic, uncomfortably shifting, scanning the room as if he's calculating how many people he's going to have to kill to keep his creed.

There's a problem with that, the problem being you. He could never... The thought never ran through his mind but guilt filled her instantly. Selfish, the only word that came to mind. She was selfish and greedy taking advantage of this moment for herself. Din could sense it, or take notice in the way mouth shapes, frowning. A large hand squeezes her knee under the table. Once again she couldn't pay attention, chewing on the fat of her lip nervously. The only sound that broke her from her trance was the sound of Mayfield's blaster sending Valin slidding across the floor.

Din and her eyes meet in panic, then at Mayfield who shot the surrounding officers. Quickly jumping into action until everyone was down.

Din first looks at his girl, accessing for any injuries but as Mayfield pushes the helmet into his reach he shakes his head, "I don't have to, I can't."

"You did what you had to do, I never saw your face." Mayfield everts his head from his direction, almost as if he never did. Din's eyes meets her again, his cyar'ika as she also turns her head.

"Put it on Mando." She remembered the talk they had months ago when he finally told her his name, that it was his own the one things no one would know and he wanted her to. She figured with his face revealed, that's the one thing he had left.

The mandalorian would claim she's wrong, he did still have something left, actually two things. One was her, the other stolen from him but soon to be returned.

Blasters filled the area of the roof top, Din's hands supporting her to the ship, "Jump!"

They all landed with a rough thud, instantly she retreats into the ship nursing a blaster shot that skimmed her arm. A small his falls from her lips as she tries to rip the material of the suit away, Din is on his knees in front of her in an instant, large hands cupping her thighs. "You were hit?"

"I'm fine." Din doesn't particularly like the short answer, only notices the way she averts her gaze. He ribs the cloth away from the wound, Cara already has the med pack ready but Din instead takes it, applying pressure with a cloth. Blood fills it instantly, Din curses under his breath. Did it go straight through?

"Are you doing okay cyar'ika?" She nods hesitantly, eyes hooded from the amount of blood rushing out.

"I'm sorry."

Din notices as she starts slouching, other hand pressed against the valley of her chest. "Stay with me, we're gonna put some becca on it and you're going to start feeling better."

"I'm sorry."

Din sighs, "There is nothing to be sorry for." The can is uncapped as he shakes it, "keep talking to me, you're loosing too much blood."

"I shouldn't have looked. I'm selfish." The words are slurred, "I just looked, I didn't think about how it affects you."

"It couldn't be avoided. Stop." It's a warning that it's a dangerous topic to be discussing right now.

"You're handsome." Din feels his cheeks warm, he would have smiled if she wasn't slowly loosing consciousness in front of him. Forehead presses against the metal one.

"Stay with me, it should start working soon. It only takes a few minutes."

A soft hum is all he hears, "Pretty eyes."

Din is blushing uncontrollably, suddenly the armour feels so hot. Slowly her eyes begin to flutter more, color filling her face once again. As soon as she's able to support herself he begins to clean it up.

"I'm sorry." This time he can tell she means the apology, small tears of guilt fill her eyes. "I should have looked away, you should be able to trust me."

"I do trust you, it's not your fault, stop apologizing sweet girl." Soft fingers angle her face to look up at his visor, she could picture the brown eyes under it, the sharpness of his jaw. "I mean it."

"I feel like I ruined something for you, I can't look at you without feeling guilty."

Din feels his throat dry at the thought that crosses his mind, he tried to say it but snaps his mouth close. If she was his wife then it wouldn't break his creed, she would feel more at ease.

He pulls her closer, "If you were my.."

"Your what?"

Din sighs softly, knowing that the guilt would eat her alive, she would never be able to look at him again. "Be my riduur, you would be apart of my clan, be able to see my face without breaking the creed."

"I don't want this to be the reason why you asked, I want it to mean something."

Din shakes his head, "It does mean something, you mean everything to me. It might have not been this soon but I always knew you would end up my riduur some day."

The words warm her heart but Din has other ideas. Now alone he picks the helmet up slowly, just enough to touch her lips with his own. "Please marry me, I don't want to spend another night with you blindfolded. I don't want to hide myself from you any longer."

She smiles, pressing her lips to his again, a silent answer.

#din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian imagine #chapter 15 spoilers #the mandalorian spoilers

[hoboal87]

Storm

Title: Storm

Pairings: Dean x F!Reader, mentions of Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, F!Reader, minor mentions of Sam and Eileen, unnamed OFCs

Word Count: ±2.1k

Warnings: anxiety, car accident, major injuries, angst, fluff, blink and you’ll miss it pre-smut, post 15x19, more spoilers will be in the tags.

A/N: Requested by a nonnie: “Hi sweetie, I adore your writing especially dean fics. Can I pleaaase request a flangsty one shot of dean x reader where they get into a car crash and she's the one who's badly injured?? And maybe they are stuck in a snow storm or something so help would take forever to come and dean is just trying to keep her alive? With lots of worried and gentle dean?? But I don't want her to die pleaaase 🥺🥺 thank you so much. And no pressure if you don't want to write it ❤️”

A special shout-out to @deanwinchesterswitch​ for taking time during her #BlogAppreciationBounce to beta this for me! Thanks Kym, you’re the best!

My Full Masterlist

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Tags are open! Tag yourself here!

Have a request? Send me an ask or DM!

You walk through the aisles of the grocery store, pushing the ever-growing cart in front of you. You and Dean had finally moved all of your belongings into your new home, and now you needed to stock it full of food. Dean is like a kid in a candy store, grabbing so many unnecessary items that you can only shake your head and suppress your giggles.

A thunderclap from outside makes you jump slightly; spring in Kansas, a woman just a few feet in front of you notes, you politely smile as she suggests stocking up on bottled water and canned goods. When you were living in the Bunker, severe weather wasn’t even on your radar. It was a fortress, with all sorts of magic protecting it. But now, you and Dean are living in an ordinary, run-of-the-mill house, and Kansas is smack-dab in the middle of tornado alley.

Dean meets you at the checkout counter, two pies in hand, and you give the cashier a small smile. Another thunderclap makes you jump, and Dean immediately wraps his arms around your waist, calming you, reminding you that it’s just a little rain. Thunderstorms had made you anxious ever since your family was attacked by a wendigo when you were a teenager. Every storm dredges up memories of you and your family fighting for your lives as the creature used a storm to hide in the shadows and the sounds of thunder to cover its inhuman screams.

Rain begins to fall as you load bag after bag into the trunk of Baby, empty now that Dean has retired. A large bolt of lightning strikes, brightening up the sky, making the heavy, dark clouds visible for a moment.

As Dean pulls Baby out of the parking lot, rain has begun falling; scattered droplets softly thumping on the roof of the car. You and Dean live away from town, out in the middle of nowhere, your closest neighbors being Sam and Eileen, owning the property next to yours, but their house was still being built, so for the time being, it was only you and Dean for nearly five miles. It didn’t seem like a lot of distance when you first chose the property; in fact, you originally wanted to buy both pieces of land so that you and Dean could have all 10 acres to yourselves.

Dean drives past the Gas n’ Sip, the closest business next to your home, and turns down the road that would eventually lead to your new house. The five-mile distance shouldn’t seem like a lot, but now, as the rainfall becomes heavier, you wished you’d chosen a home closer to town.

The thick, heavy rain makes it almost impossible for you to see anything more than a few feet in front of you. You take a long, calming breath, trying to keep your nerves intact as lightning strikes again in the distance. Dean notices your nerves starting to get the better of you and reaches over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze before bringing the car to a stop.

“You wanna wait out the rain?” He asks, taking your sweaty palm into his own.

“Food’ll spoil,” you counter, trying to cover your growing nerves.

“S'just food, sweetheart,” Dean unbuckles himself and slides closer before reaching over to do the same to you. “We can get more tomorrow.”

Dean wraps his arm around your shoulders as the storm seems to grow even stronger. He places a gentle kiss on your lips and reaches to the back seat, grabbing a blanket to cover you both. Under the worn blanket, Dean’s hand rubs up and down your thigh, inching closer to your covered core. This wouldn’t be the first time that Dean’s tried to get frisky in the Impala; hell, not even the third or fourth but with your anxiety running on high, the last thing you want is to fool around.

You don’t have to say anything, just gently intertwining your fingers with his and he seems to get the message. You curl up against him, basking in his familiar warmth and smell, praying that the storm would soon be over. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest as the wind howls with enough force to cause the Impala to rock slightly on the road.

After you’ve calmed, Dean suggests heading on home. You nod slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the comfort of your bed. He slides back over before shifting the car into gear and slowly starts accelerating.

Pain. Cold. Wet.

Steam rises from Baby’s engine, and thunder claps again. The last thing you remember is a horn honking and Dean slamming on the brakes before everything went dark. Your body lies limp on the hood of the car, glass shards from the windshield surrounding you.

The Impala’s front end is crushed, and the heat from the engine warms you as you try to piece together what happened. You can hardly focus on anything; there’s another car a few yards away; it must be the one you collided with. You try to move your body, but it’s then you realize that you can’t feel anything below your waist. You groan as you desperately try to move, hoping that you can will yourself onto your feet and find Dean. You can barely make out a low moan through the sound of the rain hitting the metal. You want to turn, but you can't; pain radiates throughout your body, at least the parts you can still feel. You try to call out to Dean, to anyone for help, but you can't find the words to do so. Your brain and mouth aren't connecting, and the only sounds that you manage to make are whimpers of pain.

A figure appears in the rain, cursing as he seems to take in your broken figure; he's almost yelling at what you can only assume is some 911 dispatcher.

"Shit.. one of the passengers…conscious? The driver? I'll try…"

The man appears at your side, and you can still see the phone attached to his ear.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" He asks cautiously, you want to nod, but you're too afraid to move your head, afraid that you could accidentally hurt yourself further. "Her eyes are open; she's breathing," the man relays into the phone. "Uh.. ragged. There's blood… Ma'am? I'll try that. Blink if you can hear me."

You slowly but deliberately blink your eyes. The man breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Y/N!" Dean's voice comes from through the broken windshield. The man hurries away from you and towards Dean. You can only make out the muffled noises as the man tries to convince Dean to stay inside Baby, but you know he won’t; he’s too stubborn to listen to anyone.

The rain begins to let up, and the man tells Dean that an ambulance is on the way. The sound of Dean’s boots on the wet concrete put you at ease, knowing that he’s, at the very least, in better shape than you are. You count the strides that Dean takes before he’s beside you, frowning slightly at the large gash on his forehead. Dean’s eyes rake over your body, and you know something is going on that neither man is telling you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean’s hand gently cups your cheek, and you know that he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “Help’s comin’ baby, okay? You’re gonna be okay, y’hear me?”

You try to mumble a response, but the words still don’t form. The rain is now nothing more than a sprinkle, clouds shifting to reveal the night sky. Numbness has taken over the rest of your body as Dean keeps his eyes focused on you, assuring you over and over again that you're going to be okay. Off in the distance, you can hear a siren, and Dean squeezes your hand tightly as he tells the man to grab two flares from the trunk.

“Help’s almost here, Y/N.”

“De,” you barely manage to mumble out, “’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” Dean looks relieved at the sound of your voice. “Gotta stay awake, Y/N, please. Y’can’t go to sleep, baby, not until help gets here. Promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“Love you,” you murmur as your eyes close, and every breath becomes more difficult to take.

“Y/N, baby, I need you to open your eyes,” Dean begs as the siren grows closer. “Please, honey, just a coupla minutes. Please Y/N, you have to fight for just a little while longer; lemme see those pretty eyes, baby.”

With all the energy you can muster, you slowly open your eyes, focusing on Dean as he breathes out a sigh of relief. His face is wet; whether it's from the rain or fallen tears, you can’t be sure. Dean offers you a pained smile before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Red and blue lights illuminate the sky, and a handful of overlapping voices fill the air. A paramedic replaces Dean, who refuses to leave your side until a firefighter drags him away. Your vision blurs as the new person begins quickly examining you while another puts a brace around your neck. A team of paramedics turns you over, and slides a board under you before lifting you off the hood of the Impala and putting you onto a stretcher. You can barely register what’s happening around you, and you want to cry out as they load you into the ambulance.

The collar around your neck keeps your head facing up, and you try desperately to look for Dean. Your eyes frantically search from side to side before Dean comes into view. He reaches forward, and you feel the familiar calloused hands rubbing against yours. Voices are flying, asking Dean question after question; is she allergic to any medications? Did she lose consciousness? Any prior existing conditions? Blood type?

Your hearing becomes muffled and your vision becomes tunneled as Dean struggles to answer each question.

“She’s seizing!”

A steadily beeping heart monitor awakens you. There’s a tube down your throat and you’ve seen enough Dr. Sexy to know it’s a breathing tube. You cough as you try to breathe and the heart monitor’s beeping becomes more rapid. A nurse is in the room quickly, telling you to keep calm before calling someone else in to help remove the tube. She orders you to cough again and again until the tube is out.

“D’n?” Your throat sore and raspy from the tube being down your throat for who knows how long. “‘Ere’s D’n?”

“He’s gone home, Y/N,” the nurse, Rebecca, tells you calmly. “Visiting hours ended a while ago. We’ll call him as soon as we get you a work-up.”

“S’okay?” You hate that your brain and mouth aren’t working together, and you can only speak in half-formed words. Rebecca nods, smiling as she takes your vitals and calls for an orderly. “How l’ng out?” You struggle to ask, but she seems to understand your question.

“Six months.”

Hours later, you’ve been poked and prodded by too many doctors to keep count of. Words may take a few days, but you’ll get them back, a neurologist assures you, just keep practicing.

By the time they’ve returned you to your room, Dean is there, eyes glistening as Rebecca wheels you in. You want to stand up to meet him, but your limbs, like the rest of your body, don’t want to cooperate with you. Dean crouches down to meet you, the skin on his forehead slightly red from where you remember seeing the gash. He leans forward and presses a kiss on your lips.

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

Dean and an orderly help you back into bed, and he takes a seat in the chair next to you, taking you by the hand and rubbing the back of your palm gently. A team of doctors explains everything to you and Dean—that you’ll have a long road of recovery, you’ll need physical therapy for your limbs, you’ll most likely need a speech pathologist, but with hard work, you’ll be back to your old self in a matter of time.

“You’re very lucky, Y/N,” one of the many doctors says as the others clear out of your room. You let out a scoff, you’ve been in a coma for six months, and you’re lucky?

“Honestly, I’d call it a miracle,” he remarks before leaving, and for a moment, you swear his eyes flash red.

Feedback is appreciated!!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #saileen #car accident #minor sam x eileen #twist ending #yellow eyed demon #pre-smut #anxiety

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24, first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Banquet Proposal

Manspreading Champion Jin Guangshan is trying to pressure Jiang Cheng into marrying Jiang Yanli into the Jin clan.  Because this is the cultivation world, where everyone reflexively agrees with the most powerful man in the room like he's Frank Sinatra and they're the Rat Pack, the whole room starts pressuring Jiang Cheng to agree.  

Then Wei Wuxian comes striding in and suggests the radical idea of asking a woman's opinion about her own marriage. He tries to pressure Jiang Cheng into agreeing with him. Today is Pressure Jiang Cheng Day. Every day for the next several months is going to be Pressure Jiang Cheng Day.

Jiang Cheng stands up and agrees that it should be left up to his sister, citing his late father's beliefs so that everyone will know that this unconventional behavior isn't his fault. This is a pickle for him; he knows his sister wants to marry Jin Zixuan, but it's not a good political alliance for the Jiangs right now, which is the opposite of the situation when his parents first made the match. While saying all this he takes the opportunity to get in a dig at Wei Wuxian for meddling.

Jiang Yanli sadly says, thanks for the offer, but the Jiang Clan is just coming back from being massacred, and I have, like, SO much laundry, I can't even. It's not that I don't want to be with you, Jixuan honey; I would just rather scrub blood off of the courtyard.

Jin Zixuan suddenly realizes that being dumped in front of a bunch of your peers is not as fun when you’re catching instead of pitching.

Clan Leader Yao is completely flummoxed by this whole "let young people decide things" concept and hopes it goes out of fashion soon.

The only really happy person in the room is Jin Guangyao, who is looking for a scapegoat for his upcoming villainy. Wei Wuxian will be a perfect fit.

(more behind the cut!)

Chillin Like a Villain

Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan have a villany-plotting conversation that's mostly as boring as every other villainy-plotting conversation.  

Jin Guangyao starts the ground work for blaming stuff on Wei Wuxian, saying that Wei Wuxian was alone with Xue Yang back when the 4th chunk of Yin Iron went missing. This kind of harks back to that moment when Wei Wuxian searched Xue Yang (not, incidentally, alone) and XY asked if he wasn't worried about what people would say if they heard about it.

Jin Guangshan is pretty ready to think badly of WWX, who just crapped on his marriage plans, so he quickly decides that Wei Wuxian’s Yin Tiger amulet is made out of Xue Yang’s Yin Iron, not that it actually, like, matters where it came from? It’s all the same dang metal.

Back to Lotus Pier

Then we get an establishing shot of the dock in Yunmeng and the subtitle unhelpfully says QISHAN. Not because the scene is in Qishan, but because there are red Wen banners flying that say 岐山 on them, so the subtitle is for the banner, not for the location. Not only are there Wen banners still flying despite their defeat, there are at least six Wen guards standing guard at the dock. Perhaps there is a teensy continuity error here.

The Yunmeng trio return to Lotus Pier with a group of disciples in tow. Leaving aside the boys' (apparent) stealth trip to the ancestral hall in Episode 20, this is their official return to their home and the seat of their clan, having survived the Wen clan's attempt to exterminate them.

They are battered, bloodied, but not broken and one of them is also broken. But still persevering. I get choked up at this scene every time. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian would be pleased with all three of them. Jiang Yanli has supported both of them through all the turmoil, giving them an emotional home even while they were homeless. Jiang Cheng has done the impossible, even more than he himself realizes. And Wei Wuxian has acted as a faithful servant, sacrificing a precious part of himself to save his clan leader.

The place is a mess, with the evidence of a final battle against the Wens all over the place. As they look around Wei Wuxian thinks back on one of the many times that Jiang Fengmian paid attention to him instead of to Jiang Cheng, and smiles affectionately.   Wei Wuxian is consistently able to remember the good things and smile about them, even when those memories are overlaid by endless trauma.

The three of them look at the Wen symbol on the roof line and the boys get identically angry...

...starting with the teeth of anger...

...followed by the fist of anger.

It's a powerful moment; they still do have an awful lot in common, despite everything. Jiang Cheng uses his mother’s weapon to smash the Wen symbol and reclaim his home.

Jiang Yanli:  The fuck!? Are you trying to slice my face off?

Back to Gusu

Next we get a nice fly-through of the Jingshi, where Lan Wangji is sitting in the side room playing guqin.  In later years he will move the guqin to the living room, while this room gains a wine-drinking table.  

The Lan clan do love their knick-knacks, and this room features several. There's a teapot suspended from a chain over a brazier, with a tied-up fish sculpture for a counterweight, which is definitely not an indication of any future kinks. The brazier is surrounded by Zen sand with some surprisingly untranquil lines raked into it.  

Lan Xichen has dropped by to tell Lan Wangji that the disciples are gossiping about him, saying he’s been checking out books from the library and practicing music. Seriously? The Lans are a sect that focuses on musical cultivation. Practicing music, verrry suspicious. Also, gossip is forbidden, but sure, check up on him.

In response, Lan Wangji jumps right to "I want to enter the forbidden chamber of the Library"  Lan Xichen asks him why, and he says he wants more music scores.  Lan Xichen, who knows about the secret murder music book, isn't delighted with that answer.  Just then, Lan Qiren summons them, so they table the conversation to go see him.

Lan Qiren talks about the battle they just went through, and says "I've heard about Wei Ying."  Everybody makes significant faces without clarifying what LQR actually heard about Wei Ying. Lan Qiren then philosophizes about how war is hell, particularly for idioms about eggs and nests. They need to go clean up the leftover resentful energy, but he's sending Lan Xichen on his own, while Lan Wangji gets to stay home and repair/rewrite all of the Lan rules.

Lan Qiren says a bunch of stuff to Lan Wangji about rules, being super hinty without actually coming to the point. He refuses to let Lan Wangji speak or ask questions, while he’s doling out punishment for, basically, thought crime. He wants LWJ to reject Wei Wuxian but he wants him to do it without being directly told.

To make sure Lan Wangji is extra frustrated, he snarkily refuses to give him permission to read the forbidden books, asking him if he’s already read all of the books in the regular library. Surprisingly, he hasn’t yet; I guess he was busy winning a war while you were in a coma, jerkface.

Lan Xichen is super on edge during this conversation--scared, even. He's trying to keep the peace, trying to keep Lan Wangji out of trouble, and avoid a confrontation. Lan Wangji is increasingly uninterested in peace, but he follows his brother's unspoken commands, and shuts up.

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen both really fail as teachers here. Lan Wangji believes that resentful energy is bad. He believes this VERY STRONGLY.  He broke up with his boyfriend for a while because of it. They are punishing him for having doubts, and they’re not giving him any opportunity to talk through those doubts with them. I say “they” because Lan Qiren is the one giving the punishment, but Lan Xichen is silently assenting, and making sure Lan Wangji doesn’t argue.

As they leave, Lan Qiren stops them to ask Lan Wangji if he understands why he's grounded, and Lan Wangji just looks at him without answering, which would be counted as sass when I was growing up.

He face says he’s appropriately chagrined, but he’s not. Before the end of this episode, he's going to directly disobey Lan Qiren, and he’s going to go on disobeying him in the future, over and over again.

Later, when Lan Wangji is alone with the pristine, definitely not in need of repair, rule book, he seems genuinely chagrined. He loves these rules, and has depended on them; that’s why he’s been a model disciple for so long, not because he fears his uncle’s punishments.

But now he also loves Wei Wuxian. So some of these rules will have to be broken.

Clan Leader Jiang

The Jiang Clan are having the ceremony to install Jiang Cheng as leader.

Wei Wuxian is sitting alone, away from all of the other disciples, watching the proceedings rather than participating. His placement in the ceremony is very strange for a head disciple.

But it’s perfect for a ghost.

Later, Jiang Cheng is practicing his "yelly boss" leadership style, and being extra grumpy because Wei Wuxian is slacking off all the time. Jiang Yanli is having trouble deciding if she should be more worried about the brother with the drinking problem or the brother with the anger problem.  

Jiang Cheng is miserable and feels completely unsure of himself but he's plowing the fuck ahead.

You might put your love and trust on the line It's risky, people love to tear that down Let 'em try Do it anyway Risk it anyway And if you're paralyzed by a voice in your head It's the standing still that should be scaring you instead Go on and Do it anyway Do it anyway

Help Me to Help You

Wei Wuxian is hanging out in a tavern window, being a thirst trap and hitting on passing Lans.  

Lan Xichen joins him for a drink and a lecture. Things start off fairly well, with Wei Wuxian being impressed with his ability to drink wine, and attempting his usual flirt-tease-charm routine, bragging about smuggling wine into Cloud Recesses.

Where Lan Wangji would be adorably flustered and hostile/sexy in responding to that, Lan Xichen just shuts him down with a look, and Wei Wuxian suddenly realizes that he's talking to an adult clan leader who isn't here for his shit, and is a lot more worldy than Lan Wangji is.

Wei Wuxian knocks it off and apologizes. Then he talks fondly about Lan Wangji, saying he wants to come visit him, and daydreams cutely about dominating him  supervising his rule-copying work.

LXC says that he should come listen to new music that LWJ has composed, and the tone of the conversation changes completely. Wei Wuxian is on his guard, and he's getting ready to throw down.  He asks if LXC came to Yunmeng specifically to hassle him, and LXC...kinda says no?

Wei Wuxian smiles sweetly while he asks if everyone in the Lan Clan is a meddler.

Lan Xichen has never encountered the nasty version of Wei Wuxian before, but he's a grown up, and he's very, very hard to provoke, unlike his brother. He cuts to the chase and says he's got something to say, whether WWX listens or not.

He says Wei Wuxian shouldn't be self-centered because the people he cares about are affected by his choices. This gets through to him, for a second. But then LXC offers to help him go back to sword cultivation, and Wei Wuxian is done listening.  

He tells Lan Xichen he doesn't want to go back to sword work, and LXC is stunned into silence for a moment as Wei Wuxian takes his wine and starts to walk away.  Lan Xichen makes a last ditch attempt to warn him about the dangers of the yin tiger amulet, and WWX says he knows, but he wants to try to master it anyway. Then he leaves with a rude little wave, and no bow.

This whole conversation seems like a disaster but Wei Wuxian does, in fact, remember Lan Xichen’s words, the next time he meets up with Lan Wangji.

Soundtrack: Do It Anyway by Ben Folds Five

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

[peterrparrkerr]

Pornstar au - read on ao3

*-*

Peter's nervously fiddling with his fingers as he walks onto set. Camera-men and directors and other crew members are hustling around, making last minute changes and adding to the low murmur of conversation.

His feet feel glued to the floor, the sudden raise in his blood pressure making his hands sweating.

"You Peter Parker?" A woman demands, standing in front of Peter and making him jump.

He looks up and gives a small nod, mouth dry and tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Get in the dressing room, you've got 15 minutes."

And then she was gone. Peter stares after her with wide eyes. He looks around, trying to find a dressing room.

This was a bad idea, this was such a bad idea. Peter should've just stuck to amature porn shot on his phone.

He's about to ask someone for directions when someone sets a hand on either of his shoulders and starts rushing him. Peter tries hard not to stumble, and he's nearly running ahead of the person.

"Fifteen minutes, be ready when there's a knock on the door."

Peter's thrown into a room. Hd straightens himself, and before he can even look around there are people rushing him to a seat.

Questions and comments are flying around him, and Peter can't focus. Someone is dabbing on concealer and someone else is demanding Peter change.

After a whirlwind of fifteen minutes, Peter's rushed back to the set. There seems to be even more people around.

Peter takes a small step back, ready to dip and just run out, but someone shouts, and someone's taking Peter's robe -leaving him in yellow swim trunks- and shoving him forward.

Peter's bare feet pad against the linoleum floor, and its like he's been shoved onto a stage fully naked in front of his high school.

"Two minutes!"

Peter is about to yell wait, when -oh, fuck, its Tony Stark. He's walking over, and he's looking at Peter.

"You look nervous," Tony smirks, looking relaxed in a pair of dark swim trunks and an open Hawaiian patterned shirt.

"Uh," Peter says dumbly. He glances around at the people in the room, then at the set they're in.

"It can be overwhelming," Tony said, all confident yet lax posturing as he stands in front of Peter, intimately close. "This is your first time filming?"

Peter swallows thickly, unsticking his tongue from his teeth.

"Ye-yeah, I mostly just, uh, usually there's not a film crew," he stammered.

Tony smirked, glancing over at the crowd, then steps a little closer. "Just pretend they're not there."

"Uh, that's gonna be hard," Peter confessed, wringing his fingers.

"Thirty seconds!"

Peter feels his heart rate spike. His eyes widen a little.

"Hey," Tony hums, smirk falling away. He grips Peter by the chin and tilts his head so Peter has nowhere to look but him. He swallows thickly, staring into Tony's dark eyes.

"Its just us, okay?" Tony said, their noses almost touching. "Its just like any other time you've filmed. Just you and your partner, right?"

"Ye-yeah," Peter nods, chin still held in Tony's grip. the older man smiles and squeezes.

"I've seen your work, Pete," he says, and Peter's eyes widen. Tony Stark -the Tony Stark- saw Peter's amature porn? What-

"You've got a lot of potential. Don't let your nerves get the best of you."

And with that, Peter's left alone at the end of the set while Tony walks to the door he's supposed to walk through at the beginning of the scene.

There's a countdown, and someone rushes over and sprays water over Peter's chest and hair, getting his curls damp and then shoving him into the middle of the set.

Peter doesn't stumble -thankfully. The countdown ends and the cameras -yeah, there's three- start rolling.

Peter picks up the towel on the wood chair in what was set up to be a mud room. He brings it to his chest and wipes himself dry.

The door opens, and Peter doesn't look up. He's read the script, he knows what happens.

Thankfully, this isn't a speaking porno. Theres no dialogue Peter needs to memorize -he doesn't think he'd be able to speak anyway without stuttering.

He feels a hand on his side and jolts -its not an act either. The hand snakes around to Peter's stomach and pulls him back.

Peter lets the towel fall to his bare feet. He can see the camera in front of him, just out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn't know where every camera is, so he tries to keep his eyes on things around the set, or closed.

Tony hums lowly against Peter's ear, mouthing at his jaw as his hand slides down, fingertips dipping below Peter's trunks.

Peter lets his head fall back a little, feeling himself growing hard. Its quiet except for Peter's slightly heavy breath, and Tony's gentle cooing.

Tony's other hand reaches over and turns Peter's head, forcing Peter to turn at his hips in order for the older man to kiss him.

Peter's seen Tony Stark's porn. Hes seen the way Tony kisses, but seeing it and actually kissing him, are completely different.

Tony's lips are pillow soft, surprisingly plump. Even with his goatee, he's soft. Peter can't help the small whimper that falls from his mouth, and Tony eats it right up, licking into his mouth.

Peter's breath hitches when Tony's hand finally brushes against his cock, tenting the yellow trunks.

"Hmm," Tony groaned, wrapping his fingers around Peter and squeezing. Peter can't help but raise onto his toes, hands grabbing onto Tony as the man sucks the breath from his mouth.

And then Peter is being pressed into the set wall, back to the cheap wood, and Tony's hand is stroking Peter under the trunks.

"O-oh," Peter gasps, head thunking against the wall. Tony ducks down, mouth latching onto Peter's throat as he continues stroking him.

"So responsive," Tony hummed against Peter's skin. He can feel the older smirking as he nips at Peter's collarbone.

"You're gonna be so fun to play with."

Peter moans up at the ceiling, rocking his hips up into Tony's grasp. He doesn't know what he's doing, but Peter's never felt a handjob quite like this one.

Tony's flicking his wrist at the top, brushing against his tip, squeezing -its incredible, and Peter is close to bursting.

"Cut!"

Peter's quickly brought back to the set and he blinks his eyes in surprise.

Tony pulls his head back and smirks down at Peter, pulling his hand back. Peter can't help but frowning a bit.

"Lets set up the next scene," the director calls.

"Dont worry, you get used to it," Tony smirks at Peter's frown. It makes his frown deepen.

Tony nods for Peter to follow him, and Peter's quick to fall into step with him.

Peter's usually not this quiet, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels like a newbie -which, technically, he is, to the professional side of porn.

"You've watched my videos?" Peter finds himself asking, and nearly slaps himself. Way to go, Parker.

Tony glances down at Peter and smiles, the two heading across the open warehouse to a bedroom set.

"Of course," he said. "Who do you think got you an interview?"

Peter's steps falter in shock. Tony's hand on his lower back, urging him forward.

"I had to see for myself just how cute you were in bed," Tony murmured against Peter's ear. All Peter could do was gape at him.

"You- I."

"Dont strain yourself, kid, we haven't even gotten to the good stuff," Tony grinned.

Peter doesn't really follow what happens next. He's still freaking out that Tony Stark had requested to work with him. That Tony Stark had seen Peter's amature porn filmed on his smart phone and wanted to meet him and work with him.

And its Peter's wet dream to work with Tony. And here he is, naked and rutting up against Tony's bare cock on the bed, whimpering and moaning.

He already prepped himself before he drove to the set, but Tony still works a couple fingers inside him -for the sake of the cameras.

Peter moans, rolling his hips, silently urging Tony to go deeper. The man obliges, sucking bruises into Peter's throat as he presses brutally into Peter's prostate.

The noises that fall from Peter's mouth are authentic. Theres no faking how good Tony makes him feel, stimulating him everywhere with experienced touches.

"You ready, kid?" Tony murmurs, so low in Peter's ears he knows the cameras and mics won't pick it up.

Peter answers by lifting his legs, hooking his ankles around Tony's back and urging him close.

Tony hums and pulls his fingers free, moving closer and lowering himself. Peter nods, hand moving down to grab at Tony's cock. He wants it in now.

He helps to guide Tony to where Peter wants him most, and groans long and loud as Tony slides in.

"Oh, God, you feel so good," Peter moans. "Please, fuck me."

Tony smirks above him and snaps his head forward. Peter gasps, lifting his legs higher, allowing Tony to drive in deeper.

It feels amazing. Peter's completely forgotten about the camera crew. He's lost in Tony and the roll of his hips that have Peter's toes curling and his back arching.

"Harder, please, harder," Peter begs, feeling the low building pleasure in his gut.

Tony's hips snap forward, pace quickening as the man holds himself over Peter.

It feels so good. Peter groans, letting out little punched-out sounds with every thrust forward.

"You like that?" Tony asked, grinding his hips down. "You like it rough?"

"Yes," Peter gasped, hands running over Tony's chest, gripping at his shoulders.

"Change positions," someone says lowly. Peter blinks, about to turn to see who, when Tony dives down and kisses him.

Peter kisses him back, and then the older is pulling out and lifting Peter into a sitting position by the back of his neck.

He allows Tony to move him hoe he sees fit, and whimpers when the man sinks back into him.

Peter's on his knees, back to Tony's chest. The older man has both arms around Peter, biting into his shoulder as he thrusts up into him. 

"Oh, fuck -ah!‐ just like that," he groans, head dropping back onto Tony's shoulder, one arm reaching back to grip at the hairs at the back of Tony's head.

He presses back into the older, turning his head into Tony's. Tony easily connects their lips, bruising teeth and sloppy tongues.

Peter's eyebrows screw up, his breath hitching, and he pulls away from Tony. "Wait-"

But its too late. Peter's orgasm hits him hard, surprising him. Tony stills deep inside of him, holding Peter in place as he cums against the white sheets, grip on Tony tight.

"Hmm," Tony hums once Peter's finished, holding him up, still buried inside. "That was gorgeous, kid."

Peter blushes, taking a deep breath.

"Alright, clean up, we've got the rest of the shot," the director calls. Peter frowned.

"Huh?"

Behind him, Tony chuckles, kissing at Peter's tender neck.

"You gotta try and hold off for as long as you can," he said as a few crew members add another white sheet in front of them, covering the spot of cum. "Give them enough footage to edit through."

"Oh, uh, sorry," Peter blushed.

"Dont be sorry, it was hot as fuck," Tony chuckled, still holding Peter to him.

"Someone get a fluffer in here," the director calls. Peter's blush deepens.

"Thats not needed," Tony calls, lifting his head from Peter's shoulder. "I've got it under control."

"What?" Peter glances over at the crew -which is terrifying. They're all looking at him.

Feeling slightly mortified, Peter turns his head forward, so he's got part of the set wall to stare at.

"Oh my God."

"Shh, kid, just relax. You're doing great," Tony said, moving one of his hands down to tickle at Peter's pubic hair.

"I don't know if I can get it up with everyone watching," Peter whispered, his hand still holding the back of Tony's head -almost like a lifeline.

"You did it before," Tony pointed out, wrapping slender fingers around Peter and beginning to tug on him gently.

"I-I was distracted before," Peter confessed. Tony gently rolls his hips forward, pressing into Peter before pulling out and repeating.

"Its just us," Tony reminded. "No one else." Peter feels himself getting hard again at Tony's words and his actions. He lets out a breath.

"There, you're doing great," Tony praised. "Just relax, let me take care of you."

Peter nods, dropping his head down on Tony's shoulder.

"I'm gonna give you a signal, when its time to cum," Tony continues, stroking Peter back to full hardness. "Dont cum until then, alright?"

"Okay," Peter nods. Tony kisses his shoulder and wraps his arm back around Peter's middle. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.

Peter keens, body overstimulizated. And thats it, they're off again, and Peter's struggling to keep his noises to a minimum.

He doesn't want to be too loud and ruin the shots, but damn does Tony know what he's doing.

"Tony-" Peter gasped, cutting himself off a little too late. Could they use their names? "Oh- Oh! Ri-right there!"

Tony pulls back and slams into the same spot, making Peter wail. His grip on Tony tightens.

"On your elbows for me," Tony whispered, mouthing at the shell of Peter's ear. Peter barely hears him over his own panting, but the moment Tony's arms unwind from him, Peter leans forward, dropping to his hands, and then his elbows.

The new position has Tony railing right into his prostate. He grips the sheets in his hands and drops even further into the mattress, pushing his ass out further and allowing Tony to go even deeper.

What Peter doesn't expect is for Tony to slap him. He rocks forward at the sting in his left cheek and mewls, burying his face in the bedding.

He's been hit before during sex, but usually its bruising slaps -ones meant to paint Peter's skin a dark red.

This, this is different. It stings, but not in a painful way. It amplifies the already there pleasure in a way that has Peter begging him for more.

And Tony gives it to him. Its not a brutal pace, and he doesn't do it often, but every few thrusts, his hand swats down on Peter's ass. It feels good, so, so good.

Peter feels himself getting close to cumming, and he reaches a hand down, squeezing himself just under the mushroom head to stave it off.

Tony's thrusts get a little sharper, and he leans over Peter, kissing at Peter's shoulder blade, hands on either side of him.

"You wanna cum for me?" Tony asked lowly, thrusting unforgivingly. All Peter can do is nod and whimper.

He begins stroking himself in time with Tony's thrusts  until he's cumming with a shout, body trembling.

Tony has to wrap an arm around Peter to keep him from collapsing on the bed as he climaxes.

Tony groaned low, allowing Peter back down onto the bed once he's emptied himself.

Peter keeps his ass somewhat elevated as Tony thrusts into him, balls slapping against Peter's perineum.

Peter moans at how sensitive he becomes, but he stays somewhat still so Tony can finish.

He does seconds later, burying himself deep inside and painting Peter's inner walls with cum. Peter mewls at the feeling.

He thrusts a few more times, rough and biting before his grip on Peter's hips ease up, and he takes a breath.

Then he pulls out and Peter drops into the puddle of cum on the sheets. Tony follows soon after, dropping to the bed beside him and glancing over.

Peter can't help but smile, his mout hidden behind his arm. Tony grins.

"Damn, kid, you're so much better in person," he sighs. Peter blushes and hides a little more of his face in his arm.

"You are too," Peter managed. Tony's grin widens.

Around them, crew members are taking down the sets, messing with their tech and talking with the director about the final cuts.

Peter doesn't pay them any attention. At least not yet. He can't believe he's just filmed a porno with Tony Stark.

"Before you leave, I want your number," Tony then says, climbing out of the bed.

It takes Peter a second for his brain to process that, and then he's scrambling off after him, snatching the robe held out for him and quickly wrapping it around himself.

Tony's already walking towards the dressing rooms, pace casual as he ties the robe shut in front of him.

"Wait, you want my number?" Peter asked, finally catching up with him. Tony smirks down at him. 

"Definitely," he says. "You're way too good to work with just once."

Peter blushes at that, then gives a small nod. "I, I just have to shower."

Tony's eyes lower, a knowing look settling in his features before he nods. "I'll be waiting."

Peter's got cum drooling down the inside of his thigh as he rushes into the dressing room.

This could be a thing. Peter could do this. Make professional porn. Especially if his partners were anything like Tony Stark.

#marvel #peter parker #tony stark #starker #my writing #ao3 #nff #sfsummerbingo21

[apollos-garden]

Thrall

A/N: in this, you’re an Avenger who has atmospheric / air manipulation powers. So basically you can move air, shove air, make a high/low pressure bubble, make a force field of wind, etc. 

Word count: 1878

Summary: mind controlled Bucky is ordered to fight you

The metal-paneled hallway was silent as you snuck along the side. You’d successfully retrieved the element core from under heavy guard at one of HYDRA’s last bases without notice. Just a bit longer, and you’d get outside. Tony’s quinjet was as close as possible to the base without triggering the sensors, about a 3 minute run. At the end of the hallway, you saw Bucky waiting to make sure you weren’t ambushed and cornered in the narrow corridor. You quickened your steps, eager to get away from the flickering fluorescent lights and eerie echo. Suddenly, the speakers in the ceiling came on with a crackle. 

Was that... Russian? “Желание. Ржавый...” You slowed in confusion, but Bucky’s eyes widened in horror before you could register the pattern. “No!” he shouted, plugging his ears in a desperate attempt to override the code, but the volume was deafening. “...Возвращение на Родину. Один...” In a last-ditch attempt to interrupt the sequence being read out, you sent a bolt of high pressure air hurtling towards the nearest speaker, crumpling it, but the others lining the hallway were more than loud enough to compensate. “Товарный вагон.” Silence resumed for a moment before Bucky straightened. “Я готов отвечать.” Ready to comply. 

Your heart sank. “Bucky, pl-.” You were cut off by the voice in the ceiling. “Dispatch subject in possession of element core and return it to the base center. Do not damage the core.” Bucky’s eyes locked onto you, and he raised his gun. Panicking, you threw up a force field. It held off the first spray of bullets, but in a confined and stuffy area like this, it wouldn’t last for long. You needed to get outside. The door was in your line of sight, directly behind Bucky. That was the problem. Strengthening the field as much as possible, you slowly began advancing towards him. 

As you got closer, the bullets’ ricochet paths started veering dangerously close to Bucky. Realizing this, he positioned the gun back across his shoulders and swapped to his knife. Bucky kicked the force field right in the middle, and although the winds spun his foot off, it wavered, weakened from the bullets. After absorbing another kick and two punches from his metal arm, the rushing air finally flickered down. You were completely unprotected. You had a knife in your belt and some explosive beads in a satchel, but even as you reached for the blade you knew you wouldn’t be able to hurt him. 

Bucky jabbed with the knife at your stomach and you sent a focused burst of air hurtling towards the blade, averting it at the last second. Your mind raced, trying to come up with any strategy to get to the door. Narrowly dodging an elbow to the face, you saw your window. Shoving him to the side with a gust of wind, you launched yourself past him, diving onto the hard floor. Rolling, you made a mad dash for the door. You heard a whooshing noise and your left calf erupted in pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Stumbling, you reached for the door handle when you heard the characteristic click of a gun cocking. 

You threw up a force field behind you, blocking a stream of bullets. You reached blindly for the door handle behind you, tugging it open. As you turned, a bullet ricocheted past the wall of wind and ripped into your right side as you almost fell outside, slamming the door behind you. Shaking, you reached for your radio. “Tony, Bucky got triggered and is trying to get the core back. I can’t hold him back for long. I need you to pick me up.” Not waiting for a response, you ran to a nearby tree, crouching behind it just as Bucky burst through the door. If you got the chance to form a low-pressure partial vacuum around his head, you might be able to make him pass out from hypoxia. You held out your hands, hiding them as best you could in the brush around the tree, and began to form the vacuum. Focused on tracking the blood drops you left in the muddy grass, Bucky didn’t notice the faint blurry film cast over his vision. 

The sound of the rain pattering on leaves masked your heavy breathing. Your vision was also starting to blur, but from blood loss and exhaustion. The bubble had sealed, and oxygen levels should have fallen enough to be noticeable. And noticed it was. Bucky clawed at the bubble, but since it was just air, there was nothing to punch through. Unfortunately, he realized that he needed to find you before his air ran out at the same time that the blood trail ended right in front of you. Your eyes locked. 

You formed your third force field just in time to block a kick that would have hit you square in the nose. It was stronger now, with the storm and free air, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold it and maintain the vacuum. Time to try something different. Hooking your foot around Bucky’s ankle, you took advantage of his air-deprived dizziness to flip him onto the ground, slamming his head onto a tree root. Summoning a concentrated force field around both his wrists, you kept both hands pinned to the ground. He strained against it and your head pounded with how much force you needed to exert to keep him there. Blood trickled from your nose. This could last for 10 seconds, tops. 

Your head snapped up as blasters started firing from the rooftop of the base at the approach of Tony’s quinjet. By this time, Bucky definitely should have passed out. You turned your gaze back to Bucky just to see his metal arm rip through its confine, and then the other one. With alarm, you saw no sign of the bubble you had put in place. It must have fizzled out when you had to focus so much power on keeping Bucky restrained. You raised your hands to cast yet another force field to hold until the quinjet landed, but they shook badly and all you managed was a feeble puff. Bucky unslung his gun from his shoulders and you dive away, but a round of bullets rip into the air and one lodges into your bicep. You look up to the quinjet to see Hawkeye on the hatch shoot an arrow into Bucky’s leg. The last thing you see before your vision fades to black is Bucky crumpling to the ground next to you and Cap leaping from the quinjet. 

________________________________

You slowly open your eyes. Your head feels pleasantly fuzzy, almost warm. As you open your eyes, some of that fogginess morphs into nausea. You’re in the quinjet. It’s quiet, the only noise the whir of the turbines and the splashing of rain on the roof and windows. Taking a deep breath, you push up onto your elbows. Your abs and arm burn, but thankfully the painkillers flowing down the IV line in your wrist numb most of the pain. “Woah, sit back down!” came a voice from behind you. You turn your head to see Natasha. “Oh. Hey, Nat.” 

“Lie. Back. Down.” Geez, okay. You settle back onto the medical cot. Natasha dragged her chair over to you. “How’re you feeling?” You smirked. “Actually, pretty okay. This is some heavy stuff. Maybe I should get shot more often.” Natasha just raises an eyebrow at you. The memory of what happened gradually returns as you shake free from the analgesic mental fog. “Um, how’s Bucky? I saw him get nailed by Hawkeye.” Nat sighs. “Well, he’s fine physically. That was a hollow arrow filled with a fast-acting sedative, just to get him out of Winter Soldier mode. Mentally... well, he’s outside. Do you want to talk to him?”

You nodded, biting your lip in concern. Natasha got up and dipped around the door, saying something. Once she was gone, you sat up, leaning against the wall for support. After a moment, Bucky’s head peeked around the door. He didn’t seem like he was going to move. “Hey, Bucky. You can come in, you know.” Slowly, he walked in, stopping near the door. He hugged himself with one arm, holding onto the bicep of his metal arm. He didn’t make eye contact. You tracked his gaze, eyes fixed on the bandages wrapped around your waist and arm. “Don’t worry about those. Bruce used some of his cell matrix regeneration support bandages. I’ve read about them in journals. Bullet wounds don’t even scar over if you get one on fast enough.” Bucky nodded. “Could you maybe come here? I would move but I’m tethered.” You motioned to your wrist. Reluctantly, he walked over and sat where Nat had been.

Bucky still wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Hey. It’s okay. You couldn’t do anything, and I don’t blame you for it.” At that, his eyes snapped up to meet yours. His eyes were red. “Why didn’t you stop me?,” he asked hoarsely. “If Tony had got there any slower, I would have killed you.” You sighed. “I knew if I tried to really hit you, I would have pulled my punches. So then I wouldn’t have made any real attack and I would be close enough for you to really mess me up. Just holding you down and blocking was the only way for me to get out alive. Anyway, we both made it out.” 

“It was this close to only one of us making it out!,” Bucky exclaimed. “I don’t get it. You almost died! Because of me!” His shoulders sagged and you could hear his voice crack. “I thought I lost you.” Bucky looked back up at you, blinking back tears. Some managed to escape and trail down his cheeks. Your own eyes stung seeing Bucky like this. “I’m right here, Bucky. I’m alive and so are you.” You pulled his head forward to kiss his forehead, then wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay.” Bucky let himself be moved without resistance, but his hands wavered before settling on either side of the cot, not wanting to further hurt you. Silently, you lower one hand and intertwine your fingers with his, resting in your lap. 

Eventually, Bucky’s back stopped shuddering with sobs and his breathing evened out. You wiped away residual tears with the back of your hand, gently tugging him next to you on the cot. The combined effect of keeping yourself upright with damaged ab muscles and the steady flow of the painkillers was beginning to take a toll on you, and you leaned a little into Bucky’s side. His brows furrowed in concern. He remained still for a moment before cautiously guiding your head into his lap. “Sorry, I guess these drugs are pretty strong,” you mumbled. “ ’S okay,” Bucky replied, running his fingers through your hair. 

After about thirty seconds, you were already dead asleep. Bucky tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Your pulse was slow but strong and he could just barely feel the beat on his thigh where your neck rested. You both stayed like that, still and safe, until the quinjet landed.

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky barns x y/n #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #hurt/comfort #h/c #bucky barnes h/c #avengers fluff #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier imagine #tws #winter soldier angst

[prismacolor19]

I was randomly thinking about Alfred and how he was a medic in the war when I was sleeping and then it hit me as to one of the real reasons why Alfred went to work for the Wayne family. I woke up looked at the time and it was 6:30 and then went “Now I have to write about this and post it!” so I spent the next 30m coming up with most of this and finished it at around 12:11pm. My brain is so weird!

Alfred did not only work the family because his family before him did but, because he wanted to live a simpler less stressful life.

Then I thought about how all of that changed when Bruce grew up and became Batman and then it me. This is why Alfred was not very happy when Bruce became Batman! He never wanted to live the life he is being constantly worried about Bruce wondering if he would ever make it home alive each night or die from his injuries. He went through all of this already when he was a medic in the war and didn’t plan on living through and dealing with anything like this ever again. He understood why Bruce had to be Batman and fight crime but, he still wished he and Bruce could live a simpler, safer life, and less stressful life.

Before Alfred knew it Batman had a whole army of young hero’s fighting along side him and two of them had died (until they came back to life) and all of these young heroes fighting along side Batman worried Alfred so much and made his blood pressure go up even higher than it was before when it was just Batman, and then Robin and then Batgilrl.

It didn’t help either when Dick came along and became Robin and when Barbra became Batgirl which really concerned Alfred because he did not like the thought of a child fighting in a war. Alfred tolerated it when Dick and Barbra came along and became Robin and Batgirl and understood why but, he still didn’t like it. Has has seen what war is like, what it can do to people, and the many lives it has taken, and this is also the reason why he never wanted Bruce to be Batman.

Jason dying from being Robin and was so hard on Alfred and it really shook him and shook him again when Tim came became the next Robin soon after Jason’s death, when all of the others became heroes not long after Tim, when Stephanie appeared as Spoiler and died, when Damian died as Robin and when Bruce, Dick, and Tim were thought to be dead.

Alfred would always behaving to tell Bruce when one of them died, went too far, or made a mistake that it wasn’t his fault because he knew it wasn’t. He has been in many wars before and understands the relationship between a commander and his soldiers. Alfred never wanted Bruce to have to deal with the weight of being responsible for someone fighting in war along side him with him especially someone so young as Dick but, that didn’t happen and every time someone from the Batfamily got killed or hurt Alfred had to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that there was nothing they could have done.

Bruce is just too stubborn to accept all of this and will forever think it’s his fault if someone from his team dies. Especially since Bruce sometimes like Alfred wishes he never let them fight this way with him does for the same or similar reasons he does but, he and Alfred know they would have gone on to fight crime on their own any way like the stubborn young men and women who wanted to fight in the wars but, couldn’t because they were not old enough or weren’t allowed to fight in them yet.

So Alfred and Bruce decided it would be best to let them fight crime with them because this way they can watch them and they will be safer with them than on their own and won’t end up dead. This all some of the reasons why Alfred let Dick be Robin in the first place which then lead to the others being allowed to be heroes for the same reasons.

Alfred was so sad when Dick decided to leave him and Bruce after Bruce fired him from being Robin at 17 when he was shot by Joker (This is the reason I love the best, with a mix of the newer comics reasons as to why Dick left). Alfred understood why Dick had to leave and was very angry with Bruce for doing this to Dick and made sure Dick was well taken care of before he left and gave him some money so start him off on his life without them. Dick had to leave even though he didn’t want to, because he couldn’t stand for Bruce’s unfair rules anymore and realized he was a grown man now and could make his own decisions and be Robin and fight crime without Batman and then later became his own hero.

When Dick left them Alfred had hoped Dick would stop crime fighting and go to college and live a normal life. Dick was still young and was the same age as and was close to the ages of some of the men he saw fight and treated in the war. So Dick still fighting crime at this age worried Alfred and this is all why he is worried about and doesn’t fully support young hero’s fighting crime. They should be out living a simple less stressful life not swinging and running across roof tops injuring and almost killing themselves fighting a war against criminals who sometimes have crazy abilities and are more insane, dangerous, smart, and deadly than some of the people men fought against in the wars.

After thinking about all of this I am head canoning that Alfred sometimes would get PTSD and have vivid memories watching them fight and when ever he saw them injuried and tented to their wounds and injuries because it would remind him of the wars, the men he saw fighting the wars, and the men he treated.

His PTSD and vivid memories were even worse when they would get the same injures and wounds as some of the men he treated especially if the men he saved died from those same injuries and wounds. Alfred has to try to keep himself together and push away all of these hard experiences and sad memories so he can focuse on helping the Batfamily and treating their wounds. It’s not always easy to do but, After a year of practice when Bruce first became Batman Alfred has got a handle on it now. The Batfamily never knew all of this about Alfred because he kept it hidden from them even though he wishes he could tell them so they could comfort him, he can’t. Alfred had to keep it a secret to help the Batfamily and he didn’t want them to worry about them.

After Duke joined the Batfamily Alfred realized something and as much as he wishes he didn’t have to come to this realization and for it to not be true, he knows Bruce, Gotham, and the whole world need Batman to exist and if Batman has to exist then Batman needs someone to be his light to shine down on and keep him from being totally consumed in darkness and from going over the edge and that’s what Robin is there for and does and if there has to be a Robin then there has to be someone for Robin so he doesn’t go insane and has someone to relate to and then that person needs someone too and eventually after this pattern continues you end up with with all of these people becoming the Batfamily and the Batfamily needs to exist.

The Batfamily exists to not only save the world but, to always there for each other, be there for each other emotionally, when they need someone after going through something, and whenever Batman or them need help. Alfred knows as much as Bruce does now that you can’t fight this crazy war and deal with all the things it throws at you and effects of it all by yourself. You need a team to fight this war with you especially when the criminals get crazier and more insane and when there becomes more of them. You need a whole team of hero’s and a family to fight it with you and along side you.

As much as Alfred hates to admit all of these crisis and crazy criminals that exist, would have come along and existed any way with or without Batman. So Alfred is so happy and thankful that Batman and the Batfamily exists because Gotham and the world would have been a much darker and more dangerous place to live in without them and the world would not have existed without them.

I am also head canoning that Alfred and the Batfamily believe in God because there is no way you do what they do and are as nice and caring as they are without a strong faith in someone besides themselves.

Alfred is also so thankful and happy Batman and the Batfamily exists because they give him hope and light in a city and world that is so dark and evil. If Bruce never became Batman he and Bruce would not have had their family. Alfred can’t imagine him and Bruce living life without them and he is so thankful he has Bruce and the family in his life and in each other’s life. Alfred prays to God everyday to watch over them, protect them, bless them, and Bruce and thanks Him for Bruce who is so precious and wonderful and thanks Him for bringing Bruce and these precious and wonderful young people into their lives who became their family and a family to each other.

#Batfamily #Alfred Pennyworth #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Barbra Gordon #Jason Todd #Tim Wayne #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Wayne #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #My Alfred head canons #My Batfamily head canons

[etoileholland]

As sweet as chocolate

Pairing: Peter Parker x female reader

Warnings: disgustingly sweet fluff

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: Peter falls in love with the sweet girl at the chocolatier.

A/N: I love writing for my little angel Peter, he’s so cute. Also, please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist :)

“You should ask her out, you know. I have a feeling she may like you too.” May remarked as her and Peter were walking to get some chocolate from Godiva.

It was not a place that May would’ve thought that Peter would frequent, but since he knew you worked there he stopped by almost all the time. Sometimes to get some ice cream, or chocolate, or even once in a while, some chocolate covered strawberries. He really wasn’t the biggest chocolate lover, but you had convinced him to become one.

“I don’t really know, I mean sure, maybe. B-but what if she doesn’t like me that way and then I’ll be rejected and my heart will be broken and I’ll have no choice but to move away and assume a new identity as a sheep herder in Iceland so that she can’t make fun of me-.”

“Honey, listen to me. You gotta go in with the attitude that she can’t have enough of you. Girls like that.” She interrupted him and put her hands squarely on his shoulders so that he would look at her. “And besides you’re the sweetest thing ever, and if a girl who works at a chocolate shop can’t see that, then she’s not worth having around.” She kissed the top of his head as they continued to walk to their destination. After a few minutes they were in front of the store, and May lightly pushed Peter towards the door.

“Wait you need to come in too, I can’t go in by myself.” He pleaded, feeling as his face became heated.

“I don’t want to get in the way of this, you can do it.” She placed a kiss on the top of his head and whispered, “would Spider-Man be afraid of talking to a pretty girl?”

“Yes.” He squeaked out, but May ignored his response.

“That’s the spirit, now go.” He pulled the door open with a bit too much force, and it smacked against the glass windows. The jolt caused you to look up, but your frightened face quickly turned into a smile when you saw Peter.

“Um, sorry about that.” He spoke in a hushed voice, knowing that his blood pressure was through the roof.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see you.” You smiled as you walked closer to the counter.

“Right. You too.” He nodded and hesitantly took a few steps towards the counter. He played with the sleeve of his sweater nervously, and he could hardly meet your gaze.

“So how has May been? And congrats on winning the science fair for the third time, I cannot believe how intelligent you are.” You beamed and Peter shot his head up. 

“You noticed I won the science fair?” He asked as you nodded your head yes.

“Of course I noticed, I was there taking photos for the yearbook. I even said hi to you, did you forget?” You tilted your head slightly to the right as you looked at him quizzingly, and all Peter wanted to do was run out of the store. 

God I am the world’s biggest idiot, of course I noticed her. He thought to himself as he let out a small laugh. For once in your life, be cool.

“I was just kidding, of course I remembered you were there. You were the real prize, the one that I wish I won.” He said, and once he realised what he said he was ready to flee the country and assume a new identity in Iceland. “Oh gosh, I didn’t mean to say that, not that you’re not a prize or anything and oh god I’m rambling in front of you and-.”

“Do you really think that, Peter?” You were blushing and you couldn’t help the smile that was plastered on your face.

“Yes.” He choked out, while you leaned back against the counter.

“Well I think you’re the real prize too, Peter Parker.” You smiled, watching as he pulled out his phone to check and see what time it was.

“Thank you, it was nice to see you but I must leave immediately.” He started to make his way to the door, but you let out a small “wait.”

He swiftly turned around to see you taking off your apron, giving it a little shake to get the cocoa powder off of it, before hanging it up on a hanger.

“The store is about to close in fifteen minutes, would you mind staying and helping me clean up?” You asked and Peter contemplated for a minute. He needed to start his evening parole, but he definitely couldn’t tell you that, and he wasn’t sure how May would feel waiting around.

“I would love to, but I have some obligations to do in the meantime. I’m sorry Y/N.” He looked at you, and it was evident that you were disappointed.

“If you want I could have-”

You put your hands up and cut him off. “It’s okay Peter, don’t worry about it. Tell May I said hello.” You stated as you walked towards the back of the store.

“Well, bye. See you tomorrow at school.” Peter replied as he grabbed the handle of the door. He turned around to see that you weren’t in the front of the store anymore, shaking his head before walking outside.

He only made it a few steps out the door as May nearly pounced on him. She noticed the frown on his face and quickly pulled him into an embrace.

“It’s okay darling, let’s go home and eat some of that chocolate.” She looked at him and noticed he wasn’t holding any.

“I didn’t buy anything, I didn’t really feel like it.” Peter responded, his shoulders sunken as he stared down at the cracked pavement.

“That’s the least of our worries. Let’s go home.” She grabbed his hand and they walked back home to their apartment.

Patrol went really smoothly; there was only one bicycle theft, but Queens seemed relatively quiet tonight.

He couldn’t help but think back to the frown on your face, and how stupid he was for not helping.

I’ll make it up to her, he thought, I have to.

—

The next day at school, he saw you on his way to Economics. He hardly ever saw you this early in the morning, but it was a lovely surprise nevertheless.

“Hello Y/N!” He waved at you, watching as you shifted your eyes to look at him briefly, before walking past him.

“Oh hey Peter.” You uttered back flatly, and you continued to walk down the crowded hallway.

Well that was odd, he thought to himself. He spun his head around to see you walking in the opposite direction, heading down the flight of stairs.

—

The next day at lunch, you and your group of friends sat a table away from him. You looked a lot happier than you did the day before, but when your gaze met his, you quickly looked away.

Peter began to realise something was up at this point, noticing your shift in attitude with the way you treated him. You and your friends always sat at the same table right across from his, and you always faced towards him, stealing little glances at him and waving when his gaze met yours.

Today was different, however, for when you were finished with your lunch, you and your friends vacated the table, hurriedly walking past Peter.

“Hey Y/N...” he trailed off, watching you take long strides to walk past him faster. You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, which hurt. The smell of your vanilla perfume left a fragrant trail behind you, and he couldn’t help but slump in his seat and sigh.

Okay, I’m starting to think I may have messed it up somehow, he thought.

—

“Peter, I know I’m not the best cook, but I think it’s at least edible.” May remarked as she took a bite of her lasagna. Peter was slumped over the table, picking at his food with his fork.

“I’m not hungry, I’m sorry, but it does look good though.” He took a small bite and May looked over at him sympathetically.

“Is it because of Y/N?” She asked. Peter nodded and set his fork down on the table.

“I’m sorry she rejected you but I promise that someone else-.”

“She didn’t reject me.” He interrupted. May set her fork down and grabbed his hand, rubbing little circles on the top of his hand with her thumb.

“Alright. Reject is a harsh word, she just declined your offer.”

“She didn’t decline my offer either, okay? I didn’t ask her out.” He sighed and slightly pushed the plate of lasagna away.

“Really? Then why are you upset?” May inquired and Peter took a deep breath.

“She asked me if I could help her clean up, but I had to go on patrol. So I told her that I couldn’t but she was visibly upset by my answer and I’m not even sure why. Why would she even want my help cleaning up? I don’t even work there.” He picked up his glass, took a sip of water, and continued. “And then yesterday I saw her in the hallway and I said hi, like cheerfully, but she was still emotionless. So then I saw her today thinking that she may have just had a bad day, but I said hello and she ignored me completely and I don’t know what I did wrong.” He crossed his arms over his shoulders, and a smile crept onto May’s face.

“Wait, why are you smiling? Did you not hear that the girl I like is now ignoring me because I didn’t help her?” He asked and May began to laugh.

“Love, I’m starting to think that it was code. She didn’t really care for your help to clean up.”

“What? I’m confused now.” Peter leaned on the table, and rested his head on his propped arm.

“Were there any other employees in there when you went in?” She asked, but Peter shook his head no.

“She told me she was all by herself. Oh my gosh, maybe she was afraid of being there by herself and she wanted someone there to make sure she was safe.” He rambled, staring at his glass of water on the table.

“That could be it, but I’m thinking that she just wanted to spend some time with you, you know, alone. I think she wants to get to know you, Peter. I’ve seen the way that she looks at you, trust me, she likes you too. Why else would she give you free chocolates and be extra friendly with you?”

“Because she’s sweet?”

“I mean yes, that’s true, but there’s more to it.” She paused for a second, leaning over the table as if she was telling Peter a secret. “I didn’t tell you this but a few days ago, when you were at the movies with Ned, I went in by myself to get a soft serve. I then overheard her talking to her friend that she loved when you came into the store because she always loves talking to you. Trust me when I say this Peter, but I think she really likes you. And that’s why she wanted you to stay late with her, so that she would have a reason to spend more time with you.” She leaned back into her chair, giving him a confident smile.

Peter, taking a second to comprehend what May had just disclosed with him, paused before saying, “so then, what should I do?”

“Alright, so your mission is-”, she smiled, lowering her voice to sound like a secret agent, “is to go buy her some flowers and offer to help her clean up.” She laughed, taking a breath and proceeding to speak normally. “When I was there that day I asked her what her favourite flower was, and she said tulips. Anyway, go down to the florist on the corner, buy a bouquet of tulips and make your way down there when you can. What time does the store close?”

Peter thought about it for a second, then answered, “It’s a Wednesday night, so 7pm.” Looking down at his watch, he noticed that it was already 6:03pm, meaning if he hurried he may just make it.

“May, I think I might have a chance. The store closes in less than an hour, I have plenty of time to remedy this.” They both stood up from the table, and May walked over to Peter to fix his shirt collar. Peter then placed a kiss on May’s cheek, and said, “Thank you May, I don’t know what I would do without you.” He gave her a quick hug and practically ran out the door.

“Oh and actually bring back some chocolate this time!” She shouted to him, flinching as the door slammed closed.

—

Okay it’s 6:30, hopefully she’s working tonight. She usually does but gosh I’m nervous. Whew. He thought to himself as he was a few doors down from the Godiva.

I can do it, Spider-Man wouldn’t be afraid, right? I fight bad guys for crying out loud, I can tell a girl that I think she’s beautiful. He sped walked to the store, and yanked the door open.

You looked up to see him, flowers in hand, and you couldn’t help but begin to blush.

“Hi Peter.” You waved and he waved back.

“Hi Y/N.” Confidently, he took a few steps towards the counter. “These are for you. I’m sorry I didn’t help you clean up the other day. I had another obligation that I couldn’t get out of.” He held out the bouquet for you, and you looked at him for a second.

“These are for me, really?” You asked and Peter nodded. You took the bouquet from his hand, and you noticed that it was of your favourite flower. “How did you know I love tulips?” You asked as you smelled the flowers.

“Lucky guess, also May told me.” He scratched the back of his neck and let out a small laugh.

“Figures. Thank you again Peter, I appreciate it.” You set the bouquet down by your purse, and looked up at the clock on the wall. Peter followed your gaze to the clock, and looked back at you.

“Can I help you clean, please? I have no where else to go, and I want to make it up to you.”

Smiling, you looked up at Peter to see him shifting his weight onto his right hip, arms nervously crossed in front of him.

“Oh I don’t really need the help, but thank you. I shouldn’t have asked you before, it’s not your job.” You responded, noticing now that there was a slight frown on his face.

“But I want to help. Please let me know what to do.” He persisted, and you smirked.

“Well, the protocol is that the chocolate needs to be eaten in a day, and since there’s a few more pieces left, would you like to eat them? I just have to count the money in the register but I think eating chocolate would be a lot more fun. And I just have to sweep and clean the tables but that’s all.” You stated, motioning for Peter to walk around the backside of the counter, and he eagerly complied.

“How do I apply for this job?” He grinned and you giggled.

“Online. To be completely honest I would love to have you as a coworker.” You looked over at Peter, who had just stuffed a few pieces of caramel chocolates into his mouth.

“Back at you.” He said with his mouth full, which caused you to begin to laugh. 

He started to laugh as well, which prompted you to add, “please don’t choke” as he laughed some more.

“I won’t,” he swallowed the last of the chocolate in his mouth, “I promise.” He stated, popping another chocolate into his mouth.

“I am not responsible for giving you diabetes mister.” You booped him on the nose, smiling lightly as you noticed his blushing cheeks.

—

Thirty minutes and a lot of laughter later, you were locking up the front doors of the chocolatier.

“Can I walk you home? Please?” Peter nervously asked, swaying on the

“I’m good actually. I only live a few blocks away so I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, it’s New York. There’s a lot of crime here, and I don’t want you getting hurt. I insist on walking you home.” He replied, lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Thank you, Peter.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The walk was relatively short, but you could tell that he was taking very small strides so that the walk could be longer than it originally would’ve been. You two didn’t say much, but you were basking in the comfortable silence, taking in the sounds of the city.

“Hey, um, Peter?” You asked in a low voice, and Peter let out an “mmhmm?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you at school, that was terrible of me. I guess I was just, well...” you trailed off.

“Yeah?”

You paused, not sure if you should say what’s on your mind. “Never mind, it sounds dumb.”

“Y/N, that’s doubtful. There’s nothing you could say that would sound dumb.” He responded, turning his head to the right to look at you.

“Okay, well, whew this is hard.” You stopped in your tracks, and Peter stopped walking too.

“Is everything alright?” He scanned your face with his eyes, and you looked down at the pavement.

“I, um, I’m sorry for being mad at you, and for ignoring you at school. Trust me, I was ignoring you for such a stupid reason.”

“And why was that?” 

“Well, I wanted this.” You pointed at him, making a little circle in the air with your pointer finger. “I wanted you to walk me home, as well as spending time with me like how we just did. This was the first time we’ve ever really gotten to talk to each other, and I want more times like these.” Taking an audible exhale, you stuffed your hands in your coat pocket.

Peter looked at you encouragingly, not interrupting your train of thought. You appreciated him allowing you to ramble without being judged, which was another of the many reasons you were falling for him.

“It really had nothing to do with you helping me clean, but instead it was what it represented. You know, spending time with me and walking me home and all. And so when you didn’t help me that day, I was disappointed and then as a result I was angry, and I’m sorry. Is this making any sense because whew am I flustered.” You nervously laughed, taking your hands out of your pockets to move a strand of hair out of your face.

Without hesitation, Peter grabbed onto your right hand, giving it a gentle and encouraging squeeze. Smiling, you continued to speak.

“Because, the truth is, I’ve really wanted this for a long time. I loved how you would always come into the store to buy chocolate even though May said you didn’t care for it much, and how flustered you always got around me. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, Peter Parker, I really like you and god I hope you do too.”

Peter, now smiling ear to ear, quickly wrapped his arms around you. He gently rubbed your back in a circular motion, surprising himself even by lightly kissing the top of your head. He felt your arms tighten around his waist, feeling you gently sway.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I was terrified that you didn’t like me back, and I don’t think I could have lived with that rejection.” He could feel that you let out a small laugh against his chest, and he continued to rub your back. “I like you too, by the way.”

You pulled away from his embrace for a second, while he still held onto you. Looking up at his face, you took note of how his eyes shined in the evening light,

You both looked at each other, taking the time to study each other’s features. Your gaze moved to his lips, as you put your hand on the nape of his neck. He pulled you a bit closer, and you paused an inch away from his face.

“Can I?” He asked, waiting for your approval. You slightly nodded your head yes, to which he delicately placed his lips on yours. Your top lip was interlocked between his lips, which tasted faintly of caramel and chocolate. You were the first to pull away, but he quickly pulled you into another kiss. 

“I don’t know what’s sweeter, chocolate or you.” He whispered against your lips, but immediately giggling at how cheesy that sounded. 

“That’s a close one, but I think it’s me.” You giggled back.

“Oh definitely.” He smirked, pressing his lips to yours again.

——

Mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow​ @sunflowerhollands​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @taciturnspidey​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @graceluvsyouu @yoinkyourheart​

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x y/n #spiderman imagine #spiderman fanfic #marvel #mine #text

[multiversal-madness]

Meeting the Team - The Jade Smiths Au

Summary: How Prince Kai and Hutchins met the other ninja.

Word count: 1864

~~~

Kai turned off his toothbrush and put it in the cup on the sink. This sink was a lot smaller than the sink at the palace, same the with bathroom. Actually, everything in the monastery was a lot smaller than in the palace. It didn’t matter though, he wasn’t here for a vacation, his aching body spoke for that.

He had finished the training course earlier that day, clearing it before Wu could finish his tea, it made him glad he had begged Hutchins to teach him how to fight over the years. His final test was tomorrow and despite all of the hard training over the last few days, he felt good. he was one step closer to learning spinjitzu, which meant he was one step closer to finding Nya.

Nya... Kai looked into the mirror, staring himself in the eye. He had to save her, she was all he had left of his blood family, his little sister he had to protect. If those skulkins had harmed one hair on her head...

He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as an odd sensation washed over him. It was one he had become used to in the palace as some of the servants or guests would stare at him as he walked by. He was being watched.

Kai turned away from the mirror, looking around the small bathroom for anything out of the ordinary. “Who’s there?” He called out to the seemingly empty room. “I know you’re there, come out and face me!”

There was an almost silent thump behind him and he whipped around to come face to face with a figure wearing an all black ninja gi with nunchucks gripped in his hands. He heard two similar thumps behind him and looked to see two other similarly dressed individuals, wielding a scythe and pair of shurikens respectively.

Kai was outnumbered and outarmed. Great. This was sure to go well.

Just as the three ninja were getting ready to attack, Kai reached for the nearest thing that even resembled a weapon. Unfortunately, this just so happened to be his electric toothbrush. He lunged forward with it and shoved it in the mouth of the ninja he dubbed ‘Shurikens’.

Shurikens faltered in surprise, vibrating for a second before spitting out the toothbrush so it hit Nunchucks in the face and bounced off into Scythe’s gi. He squirmed uncomfortably as the two others stared at him. Having their attention drawn away, Kai used the opportunity to climb up into the rafters.

Hutchins’ room was only a few doors down, he always slept with a weapon near by and was highly skilled in fighting, so if he could just reach him, then they would have a fighting chance against these ninja. He hopped from beam to beam, but it seemed that the distraction hadn’t lasted as Shurikens appeared in front of him.

He jumped at Kai, attempting to kick him off the beam. Kai dodged to the left and turned to watch as Shurikens fell down into one of the rooms below. Kai couldn’t stop the chuckle that left him, but the smile left his face as he saw Scythe and Nunchucks were gaining on him. 

Just a few more beams, he can do this. Kai hopped across as fast as he could without falling off of the rafters, quickly reaching Hutchins’ room. He opened his mouth to call out, but he was pushed over and pinned to the beam as Scythe forced the handle of his weapon down on him. Damn it, Scythe was really strong, he couldn’t do this alone.

Looking down, Kai shouted, “Hutchins! Wake up!”

Luckily for him, Hutchins was always a light sleeper. He shot up and was standing in a matter of seconds. He looked up to where Kai and Scythe were wrestling for the scythe and an array of emotions passed across his face before he settled on looking furious.

Kai tried to say something else, but the pressure pinning him down vanished and threw him off guard. Scythe grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him through the roof.

There was a loud crash as the roof broke to make way for him, Kai thought he also heard Hutchins yell out for him. The ground greeted him faster and harder than Kai would have liked it to, knocking the wind out of him and sending him rolling. That was going to leave a nasty mark.

He pushed himself to his feet just in time for the three ninja to appear in front of him, ready to attack. Just before they could do anything, Hutchins burst through the door and rushed to Kai’s side, throwing him a katana while wielding his own bo staff. 

“You are going to regret this,” Hutchins growled as he prepared to for the fight to begin.

They all stared each other down, waiting for the first strike-

“Stop!”

The five of them all turned to see Sensei Wu standing at door looking majorly displeased. The three ninja quickly dropped their offensive stances and stepped into line, bowing to Wu and simultaneously saying, “Yes Sensei.”

If Hutchins looked furious before, now he looked even more wrathful, “These are your students?!” Sensei Wu looked to Hutchins, voice sounding more regretful, “Hutchins, I apologise for their behaviour. I should have informed them before hand who our guests were.”

Hutchins didn’t seem to be the least bit sated by this response, “You do realise they could be arrested for this.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on,” Nunchucks spoke up. “Yeah, we attacked you, but we thought you were trespassers. Why would we be arrested for something like-” “Enough,” Wu cut over him. Nunchucks went silent and Wu sighed. “You three, I have yet to introduce you to your new teammate. Meet Prince Kai, adoptive son of the emperor.”

The three ninja went pale under their masks. Well, the first two did, shurikens’ eyes just widened in shock.

“That is exactly why this is such a problem,” Hutchins said as he slammed the end of his staff into the ground. “You-” “Hutchins, stop,” At his words, everyone turned to look at Kai as he continued. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“’Not that big of a deal’?” Hutchins repeated. “They attacked you-”

“Yeah, but I’m a ninja now,” Kai retorted, cutting him off again. “I’m going to get attacked a lot. If anything, this was just practise.”

Hutchins fixed him with a hard look, which Kai returned unwaveringly. After a moment or two, Hutchins sighed and relented, just looking over the three ninja who seemed to straighten up under his gaze. Hutchins stare always had that effect on trainees, guess it applied to ninja as well.

“Now that everything is resolved, the four of you step forward,” Sensei Wu gestured for Kai to join the line.

He did as he asked, not missing the way the other ninja cast quick glances at him. Wu came down the stairs to stand in front of the ninja, “Each of you have been chosen, each in tune with elemental abilities. But first!”

Sensei Wu spun into his golden spinjitzu and moved across where the ninja were standing, new coloured gi they were now dressed in seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Kai looked down at his hands and body, he was wearing all red, with a golden pin attached to the front of his shirt. 

“Whoa,” Kai looked up to see Nunchucks, now in a blue gi with a similar golden pin on the front, checking out his own gi. “Look what colour I am!”

“Wait a minute,” Scythe spoke up. “I’m still black.”

Sensei Wu seemed to ignore his question as he walked up to Kai instead, placing his staff on his shoulder, “Kai, Master of Fire. It burns bright in you.”

Moving onto Nunchucks, he repeated the action, “Blue is Jay, Master of Lightning.”

Jay seemed to smile under his gi as he chuckled, “He, that’s not all I’m master the of. I do a little inventing, dabble in model building, touch of cooking, little poetry.”

Kai raised an eyebrow as Scythe scoffed, “More like ‘mouth of lightning’.”

Sensei Wu then went to Scythe, “Black ninja is Cole, solid as rock, Master of Earth.”

Cole nodded to Wu, before turning to Kai and bowing, “I’m sorry we attacked you, Prince Kai, I should have figured out who you were before attacking.”

“Thank you for apologising, but there’s no need,” he acknowledged. “It’s already forgiven and in the past.”

Cole rose from his bow and took off his hood, “I’ve got your back. And for the record, there ain’t nothing in this world I’m afraid of.”

“Except for dragons,” Shurikens cut in.

Cole faltered, “uh, dragons aren’t from this world Zane, I said in this world.”

“And white ninja is Zane,” Sensei Wu finished. “Master of Ice, and seer with sixth sense.”

“A seer?” Hutchins pondered aloud. “I thought there weren’t any left.”

“Do you know of any others?” Kai asked.

Zane took off his hood and looked to him, “I do not know. I cannot remember much of my past.”

“Hey, it’s alright!” Jay took off his hood, giving Zane a pat on the shoulder. “We’re ninja now, we’re gonna go all over the place. Chances are we’ll find out about your past.”

Zane nodded at Jay, then they all turned to Sensei Wu as he began to speak again, “The four of you are the chosen ones who will protect the four weapons of spinjitzu from Lord Garmadon.”

Kai stepped forward, trying to keep his tone from sounding too hostile, “What about my sister?”

“Oooh, we’re saving a princess? Now this feels official,” Jay joked.

Kai frowned at him as Cole sighed in annoyance, “Really not the time for that, Jay.”

“What?” Jay protested. “It’s gonna be like all the classic stories. The heroes always go and save a princess from the big bad guy.”

Kai huffed and looked back to Wu, deciding to just ignore Jay.

“When we find the weapons, we will find the princess,” Sensei Wu answered. “It is time. We must go to the first weapon.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Cole cut in. “You said you were going to teach us spinjitzu.”

“Spinjitzu is inside each and every one of you, but it will only be unlocked when the key is ready to be found.”

They sat in silence as they thought over this, at least it was silent until Sensei Wu announced, “Come! My feet are tired. We will take the horse carriage. Hutchins and Kai, will have the option to join me on the carriage or run along side it with the others.”

The three ninja groaned, but Kai spoke up, “I don’t want any special treatment, I just want to find my sister.”

Sensei Wu nodded before looking to Hutchins, “Any you?”

“I will ride with you,” Hutchins agreed. “I’m not as strong as I once was.”

With that, Wu led them back into the monastery, then to the location of the carriage. Once they saw it, they knew it was going to be a long night.

#ninjago #ninjago kai #The Jade Smiths au #ninjago Hutchins #ninjago au #ninjago fanfic #my writing #ninjago sensei wu #ninjago cole #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago prince kai

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

oops, meant to get this out before Monday but minor delay due to editing! 

this week - a scene to start the episode and one to end it...

1.3

Weller's emotional rollercoaster of a day started before the previous one had even ended - with a phone call just before midnight.

He hadn't been home all that long after wrapping up the Gibson case when his cell began to ring and he saw that it was an agent from Jane's detail. That alone flicked at his anxiety, making him flash back to the fear he'd experienced seeing her crashed car. Then, when the agent started describing what had happened at the safe house, Weller's blood pressure instantly shot through the roof and he almost walked out the door in just his PJs before he realized he needed to bring his badge and gun.

Rushing to the scene, Weller only managed to resist breaking numerous driving laws by constantly reminding himself that Jane hadn't sustained any serious injuries and was currently chaperoned by multiple FBI agents and cops. Yet he was still much too aware that those same agents had just let a guy sneak into her safe house and it was entirely possible that she would already be dead if that had been the man's goal.

Ice cold dread ran through Kurt at that thought. He could have lost her again, so soon after finding her. Even if they hadn't tested her DNA yet, he was sure that she was Taylor, somehow brought back to him after twenty-five years away.

Pulling up to the scene at an unreasonable pace, Weller saw that it was already getting busy with more agents arriving and the coroner showing up to deal with the body. He flashed his badge to get past the yellow tape and immediately started scanning until he saw Jane sitting on the couch, scowling at the paramedic trying to look into her eyes with a penlight.

"Ma'am, you've been hit hard enough to lose a tooth and your pupils are still dilated. I really recommend that you come to the hospital and get examined by a doctor."

Instead of arguing with the EMT, Jane saw that Weller was approaching and gave him an exasperated look. And suddenly he was transported back to a moment forgotten for so long that he hadn't known that it was still there.

In his memory Kurt was nine and crouching in front of an annoyed four-year-old, doing his best to put antiseptic on her scraped knees as she rolled her eyes at him and complained.

"It's not even bleeding, Kurt," she'd groaned, desperate to get back to the game they'd been playing. "You're such a worrywart."

Weller remembered the internal pressure he'd felt, babysitting his wild little neighbour. It had been a responsibility he took pride in and he'd hated having to tell Emma that Taylor had hurt herself again, attempting some stunt. Or, even worse, explaining that he'd stepped on Taylor's hand, causing her to fall from the tree. Not that Emma had ever blamed him for any of the bruises and cuts; instead, she'd always reassured him that it was all part of an active childhood. Still, he'd been the older one, the one in charge. So he'd always felt like it was his fault if Taylor hurt herself, no matter what anyone else said.

Looking at Jane now, he felt exactly the same way. He obviously couldn't protect her, not even with the power of the FBI behind him. And failing in his duty made him angry and anxious; overprotective to the extreme.

Kurt flashed his badge and told the paramedic that he could go, explaining that he would deal with Jane and make her see a doctor. The EMT exhaled in relief as he walked away from his stubborn patient and Weller took the man's place, standing in front of Jane, who was still seated on the couch.

She looked tired yet agitated, sitting there holding her swollen cheek. He could see that it was already bruising and Weller internally flinched as he imagined her getting hit hard enough to knock out a tooth.

"I knew him," she said immediately. "He's the man from my target training memory. The one that was outside the building before we almost got blown up. He knows me and he was following me. We have to find out who he is."

"Whoa, Jane," Weller replied, crouching down to look at her more closely. "Slow down. We will do everything we can to find out who that guy was and how he's connected to you. And I do want to know exactly what happened here. But first, tell me are you okay?"

Jane looked a little startled by his question, as if she'd completely forgotten about everything else while fixating on the dead man in her safe house. Then she glanced down at her hand on her cheek and wrinkled her nose.

"My face hurts. But otherwise I'm fine," she muttered.

"You still have to get checked out by a doctor," Weller said. "He must have hit you really hard."

Jane brought her hand down from off her jaw and gave him an irritated look.

"It's been a long day, Weller," she groaned. "I really don't want to go to the hospital."

Weller flashed back to earlier that day, having the same argument with her after she'd crashed the SUV. He'd pretty much guilted her into it then. But right now Jane sounded so tired and on edge that he didn't want to battle with her.

Yet it was clear she needed to see a doctor and at least get some x-rays of her jaw. So Kurt thought the issue through until he arrived at a solution that could placate both of them, even taking the time to figure out how best to present it to his recalcitrant patient.

"Well, you can't stay here," Weller finally said. "It's a crime scene now. We'll find you a safer place."

"And you need to be cleared by a doctor before you can come back out in the field with us," he added. "That's standard protocol."

Jane's frown deepened and she exhaled wearily. Weller could hear that he'd chosen the right selling point - she was desperate to stay involved with the case and be out on missions with the team.

"So either I take you to the hospital right now or you pack up some stuff and we go to the NYO. You can sleep in the medical bay until the doctor gets there in the morning to check you out."

Jane gave him a long look that indicated she knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, for once, she didn't argue, just giving him a tired shake of her head instead.

"Okay, I'll see the doctor at the NYO," she sighed.

Weller held back a grin at her begrudging response and offered her his hand. Jane gave it a long suspicious look before grasping it and letting him pull her up to her feet.

The drive to the NYO was silent, even though Kurt was full of questions. He desperately wanted to know everything that had happened that night but knew that it wasn't the right time to ask. Jane was quiet and obviously still shaken from what had happened; so Weller decided to leave his questions for the morning, after she'd been seen by a doctor.

As they neared the office, Kurt glanced over at Jane once more. He had thought her silence was due to her own head being full of questions too, or continued stubbornness about getting medically checked out. But it turned out that she'd just fallen asleep now that all the adrenaline had fled her system, her head lolled back against the headrest so the bird tattoo was perfectly exposed.

He had never before met such a vibrant, tenacious woman. And even though he had no proof yet, Weller knew in his bones that she was Taylor. He'd gotten her back; been given a second chance. And this time, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her.

Again he glanced over at his sleeping charge, feeling a warm tickle spread through him as he realized how relaxed she now looked. All the tenseness she'd been wearing at the crime scene was gone as she murmured inaudibly and leaned in his direction.

Weller resisted the urge to reach over and brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face, forcing himself to focus on the road. Yet he still found himself looking to his right far too often, as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to her.

It was impossible but he believed it with every cell in his body.

She was Jane and she was Taylor.

And most of all, she was his to protect.

###

Jane's emotional rollercoaster of a day ended with two solid answers; yet her head was still full of questions as she stood there, clinging onto Weller's arm.

After all that arguing with Weller and Agent Reade's open questioning of her role in the investigation, it had been a major relief to be told by Mayfair that they had all supported her being armed and part of the team. Jane was sure that Weller had pulled rank with his agents to get that kind of unanimity but she hadn't even had time to really thank him for backing her before Patterson showed up and gave them the other, unbelievable, news.

She was Taylor Shaw. Weller's neighbour, who had disappeared without a trace twenty-five years ago.

Jane stared at him and he stared right back. She watched a wave of joy pass through Weller's expressive blue eyes and felt his elation ripple down her spine as well. Not only had they finally found out something concrete about her, it tied her intricately with Kurt and explained his name being tattooed on her back.

For a moment Jane wondered if it was normal, how much Weller could make her feel. She'd spent most of the day being furious with him for keeping secrets and refusing to let her participate fully out in the field. But then he'd insisted on going with her to the hospital, despite Agent Reade's vocal objections. Which had paradoxically made her feel both protected and nervous, because it was clear that Reade had touched on the truth.

Then, as soon as they were in danger, he had given her a gun without hesitation, fully trusting her to watch his back. Which had been a good thing, considering how close he'd gotten to having a full round of ammunition pumped into him, point blank. Even as it was, Jane had almost been too late - she'd seen the gunman's trigger finger moving just as she shot him dead.

The relief she'd felt seeing Weller alive was as fierce as any emotion she'd experienced yet. And then there had been a whole new set of feelings after he told her he thought she was his childhood friend, the little girl who went missing when he was ten. That revelation had finally put the entire day into perspective, completely flipping her understanding of his behaviour.

The argument with Mayfair. His sudden overprotectiveness. His blow up when she disobeyed his order and put herself in danger.

Weller had been under such immense personal pressure. She wondered how long he'd been thinking of her as Taylor. Clearly it had been influencing his actions all day.

Jane flushed a bit remembering how furious she'd been with him during his tirade about protecting her. At least she wasn't angry with him anymore. That hadn't felt good at all.

So much was running through her mind that Jane suddenly realized they'd been standing there for ages, just holding on to each other and staring silently. Patterson had left somewhere along the way and it now was just the two of them, with the mind-blowing piece of information hanging between them.

Weller's eyes were still teeming with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. She could see that he was fighting to contain himself now that his suspicion had been confirmed.

Jane flashed back to him telling her that she could trust him, that he'd been looking for her all his life. It made her feel warm and a bit tingly, to be to closely tied to Weller. But there was also pressure to being the girl he'd sought for so long - to mean so much to a man she barely knew, a man who already made her feel everything so strongly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Yeah," she replied slowly. "It's just… how is this even possible?"

Weller shook his head, a look of wonder still in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said.

"But we will figure it out. We're going to find out what happened to you."

He sounded so sure but Jane was realizing that getting answers had only opened up an onslaught of new questions. If anything, being Weller's childhood neighbour made the whole situation even more confusing and implausible. Also, what had Casey meant by Orion? Was that a clue to where she'd been taken after being kidnapped at age five?

The wave of questions was about to engulf her when Jane felt a squeeze on her elbow and remembered that Weller's hand was still on her arm. Looking up at him, she suddenly felt drained from everything that had occurred in the past day. She'd barely gotten any sleep after the attack at her safe house and then had an extremely emotionally and physically taxing day.

"Hey," he said, studying her closely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jane shook her head. She needed some time to think before she asked him any more questions.

"Okay then, how about some food?"

She furrowed her brow at him, confused by the abrupt change in topic. But Weller was just giving her his usual warm concerned look, like he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day," he added. "It's been over twelve hours."

Food was the last thought on her mind, especially after such an intense day. But, thinking about it, she realized that he was right on both counts. And then, precisely at that moment, as if her body was in collusion with Weller, Jane's stomach growled.

Weller grinned at her and Jane swore she even saw a twinkle in his eye as he slipped his hand down her arm until his fingers were entwined with hers.

"Well, that settles that," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Weller," Jane muttered, unsure about his proposition. Going to a restaurant with Weller sounded both enticing and nerve-wracking. Especially with everything that had happened between them that day.

"It's fine, I'll order in later."

"No," he replied sternly. "We're going together and I'll take you to your new safe house after. We won't talk about any of this until tomorrow. But I want to make sure you eat some real food."

Jane's instinct was to argue and push off his concern. But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes as he'd told her about his little neighbour, how he'd been there the night she was taken.

Weller wanted to protect her. And as much as it was sometimes irritating, it also made her feel safer knowing that he was looking out for her so fervently. So maybe it was okay to let him care a bit too much, especially when it felt so good to have his fingers laced between hers.

"Okay," she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze.

She didn't yet know what to say, or how she felt about being his missing girl. But Jane did want him to understand how she was grateful for everything he'd done for her already and for how much he cared.

"Thank you," she finally said, offering him a timid smile. "For everything."

"I'm so glad you found me."

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch #s1fic #i wrote this

[adowbaldwin]

Oasis

requested by @madwriterscorner  :) The title made me giggle, so i hope the reference is not missed on anyone!!!

Ps. i kind of suck at time frames, so it’s ‘roughly’ ahahaha

510…ish…

Lucius and Hugh sat tall and proud atop their stallion’s, and the small thing blocking their road had to crane his neck to reach their full heights. He thought them to be out of this world, Gods he could not quiet reach.

“Boy move before you are trampled” the dark haired one barked, he knew him to be Sieur only and could not find the words for his response. He was almost starstruck

“Are you deaf” the other copper one growled, slightly huffing "or stupid”. He eyed the thing with disgust ridden on his face, and encouraged his horse to step closer to the boy with a small kick “Perhaps you wish to be trampled on” he growled

“LUCIUS!” Hugh berated his temperamental brother “do not dare, you are not in Rome any longer” his voice had shot out half as a command, and half in jest.

Lucius smirked over his shoulder “You are right brother, if we were in Rome he would have no head” the boy skated back on his heels, hoping to avoid certain death

“I was here first” his brows furrowed as he looked down kicking a stone out of the path

Lucius had been circling the boy on his horse as if to torment him, though this comment stopped him in his tracks and he shot down from his horse grabbing the child by the shoulders “what did you say” his jaw was clenched, teeth rattling under the pressure and he knelt down to the boys level

“i-“ he stuttered, then regained his composure looking him square in the face “I was here first. You interrupted my path. I was getting wood an-“

His story had been cut off when he felt leather connect to his rear, and he yelped in shock “you best learn manners boy or ill beat them into you” Lucius rose from his couched position, and when the boy looked up he fell back onto his now saw bottom

“Lucius, stop toying with the child and get a move on” Hugh knew better then to interrupt his little brother when he had prey in his sights and wished that he would just hurry up and either kill it or leave it. He wanted to drink the day away, not spend it in the forest.

“what is your name boy” the last word came out as almost a threat, though it was not usually formed in that way

The boys self-preservation had been launched out of the window some years ago and he did not take kindly to men whom used their influence to belittle others. He had not yet been a mature age, but he would not be pushed around by them “what is your name, Sieur” he tried with might to spit the last word out as venomous as the devil in front of him had, and in a decades to come he would manage. Not today, though.

Hugh sucked in the air around him, bracing himself for the impact he would not feel himself. He winced when he saw Lucius draw his hand back and deliver a harsh slap to the boys bum, and had closed his eyes by the time Lucius reached 10.

He was sniffling, though not crying. Not even his own father had punished him so hard, and he had caused far greater mischief at home then he had thar day.

Lucius grabbed his skinny arm and threw him on his horse, and the boy lay on his stomach over the saddle “Next time boy tell me your name” he growled, and aimed back towards the village to return it to which way it came from.

 520…ish…

Lucius’ sword scraped along the ground and the stone bit out an ear piercing screech at the contact “Matthaeus, keep slipping the wood from your shoulders and I will tan your rear” he smirked “no matter how you’ve aged”

Matthews shoulder ached from the constant, unrelenting work he had been subjected to for the past three months. The De Clermonts had demanded requested another part to their stone tower, and his craftsmanship had been sought after. He welcomed the work, and begrudged the barbarian whom had been overseeing the build.

Matthew huffed, disgruntled at the sheer lack of decency by this muck-spouted, quisby fopdoodle. Matthew used every derogatory word in his capability to describe Lucius, and he chuckled thinking of the wonderous foul language

“You jest, please share” Lucius growled, becoming impatient with the runt

“You wish to distract me from my important work, Sieur” He smirked back, using his free hand to wipe a stray bead of sweat “your father will not be pleased”

“speak less of my father and more of what thoughts ensued such joyous laughter” his arms stretched out to emphasize his speech as his voice became mocking

Hugh looked over nervously and had secured his blade within it’s sheath knowing within all of three minutes be would referee his brother and the human. They had yet to come to physical blows, and Hugh knew it would occur soon and hoped his home would be built before his brother murdered the towns best stonemason.

“I cannot speak such thoughts as they bare ill towards my Sieur, and I fear he may redden my ass” he quipped back, tipping his chin higher “perhaps though he looks for an excuse to darken my rear” he chuckled, and the men around let a small laughter escape

Lucius face fell at the insinuation and Hughs eye’s popped out of his skull. His brother was known in every city for being a woman loving, bed hopping whore and this suggestiveness would anger him.

Lucius took slow, purposeful steps toward in the impotent swine and the light of day shuddered in response “What did you say” he growled

Matthew, having been one of two men who dared challenge Lucius (the other only being Sieur Philippe) dropped the wood he was holding and met the man in the middle of the stoned courtyard “I said, perhaps you endeavour to redden my ass as an excuse to see it in all its glory” he bit out. He had grown to an impossible human height, and now matched the vampire in length. Where he did lack though, was the brawn the Roman possessed.

Lucius thought better of satisfying the runt with a reply, and simply patted him on the shoulder. He leant in to whisper to him “you will learn to regret that, boy”

Everyone had been shocked at the calm, collectiveness of Sieur Lucius that day and thought he may have changed.

He had not.

 Three weeks later

It had been a difficult few weeks, and his work never seemed to end. The days had gotten longer and the work excruciating. One solace had been his unrelenting ruler Lucius had not made much comment since the day some weeks ago. He had kept out of Matthews way, and managed to be as polite as he could. That was unsettling.

Matthew made the short walk to his home, dreaming of his awaiting cot and he could practically smell the stew wafting through the streets awaiting for him to return home.

His ears picked up an odd sound coming through his stone walls, and tentatively stepped inside his home. He had almost vomited at the unsightly thing he had been subjected to; his loving, wonderful mother whom he doted on had been ontop of their dining table being entertained by the devil.

He had seen enough; the copper haired bastard had sarded with his mother.

His slammed the door with an ominous thunk, and sank down on the stone wall out of earshot. He would have stern words with his mother, and a sharp knife for him.

The door creaked open and Lucius had looked proud of himself. He thought he had done a good deed, the woman was widowed and short of this months tax payments. Her sons efforts to keep a roof over their heads had been noticed but he felt entitled to ensure she made up the rest of the payments. The added bonus being her impertinent son had seen, and he could not doubt his intentions again.

He made good measure to ensure Matthew had seen him jostling his trousers and tucking in his unruly clothing before approaching him on the stone wall. Matthew rose from his seat, his face riddled with hatred “You utter bastard” his sent a dissatisfying week shove to him, and this ensued hysterics from the blood sucker

He grinned “I was collecting your taxes” he could not manage any anger, he had released his frustrations on the boys mother (and she had accepted them happily and satisfied) “Do not fear boy, you will not have to call me father” he tipped his head back roaring with laughter as he retreated.

As he had gotten further away, Matthew had hoped staring a hole through his head would result in him dying.

It did not.

530…ish?...

Ysabaeu had almost looked sad at the sorrowful state lying crumpled on the floor. Matthew, the bright boy from the village laid broken on the cobbles. She had sensed his bones were no longer in tact and knew if she did not act quick, the world would lose a bright spark.

Lucius grumbled loudly looking at his stepmother whom had a doe-eyed expression. She was about to make it her child. “Perhaps he will be fine” he tried to reason, and gave his leg a quick tap for good measure “see, hardly broken”

Ysabaeu growled, stepping over the broken body to his side “if you do not wish to be in the same sorrowful state, I suggest you leave”

“Now, there is no such need for dramatics” Philippes voice boomed unnecessarily loud and the world almost stood still everytime he spoke “Come Lucius, leave Ysabaeu to her own devices”

He looked to the pitiful sight on the floor and shrugged “all over a woman” he spat “pathetic”. Lucius could not fathom a love so deep a man would fling himself from a bell tower and thought him week to do so. Perhaps he could sympathise the loss of a child, but he could not care for it. He sneered, and left awaiting the arrival of his pitiful new brother.

 Matthews transformation had been far from easy, and with his sickened blood Lucius had found new reason to hate him. He had known Ysabeaus was tainted, but he had to feign a care for her since she was mated to his father. This thing he did not care to like.

He saw an opportunity now Matthew had turned and took great satisfaction in knowing the next time they shared words he could beat him in every way he had dreamed of. No longer a frail human, he would choke him till his heart exploded with joy.

He had been known for a shortened temper, but it was something about this oozing sack of self-pitying puss that truly angered him. As a boy he was self-entitled, in puberty he was utterly impudent and in adulthood he has acted like a degenerate. If it were not for his skills in building, his head would be nicely mounted to a stick in Lucius room.

As the days drew to a close, Ysabaeu proudly presented her son to her family. The celebratory dinner saw him welcomed, though it truly was just an opportunity for Philippe to be centre of everyone’s attention.

Matthew had not liked the crowded feel and had been grateful for his now ‘step-father’ taking up the role of entertainer, host and joker. His mind still burned from the memory of his wife and child and his heart bled in pain thinking of his loss. How he could go on, why he had agreed to go on wounded his thoughts as he betrayed his love and his God.

His eyes met Lucius across the dining table, his own dark orbs to his golden, fiery ones. He could feel the hate burn his veins, and did not once avert his gaze as he would have done as a human.

“Lucius” Philippes melodic voice broke the trance “Come, lets walk our grounds” His arm swung over the shoulder of his favourite son and goaded him into leaving the table

The sweltering, humid air had reflected the conversation at hand hot and stifling. Atleast, that is how Lucius felt “Come now Son, I trust no other with this” Philippe tried to reason. His most trusted, favoured son had a wicked temper but he could not place this into the hands of another.

“I do not understand, why of everyone you burden me with such a task” he growled, though it were more of a petulant child grumble then of a genuine challenging nature

“Ysabaeu’s sickened bloodline cannot be uncovered, nor Matthews affliction. I need you to be his guardian. To ensure he is kept in check” Phillipe tightened the grip on his shoulder and sighed deeply “Please”

He was not one for begging, but his relationship with this boy had been different. In some respects, despite the age gap he saw Lucius as his equal, someone he could admire for his sharp mind. He thought paces ahead of anyone around and even sometimes himself.

Lucius regarded this request, and thought of no other way to make this tolerable “if you expect I take Matthew as my charge, expect I shall not refrain from relentlessly making his life a misery, and beating him” he folded his arms across his broad chest and stood in front of his father holding the upper ground “and so help me God, if he ever does something to jeopardise the family, I will put him down”

Philippe nodded, knowing better to argue once he had set his mind “do try to atleast be friendly with him”

“I attempted so once, I allowed his mother to slip on taxes” he tipped his chin upward patronisingly “he was ungrateful”

Philippe gave his boy a stern look “Sarding his mother is not attempting to be friendly. It is antagonising”

“How does the corpse of his dead wife fair?” He smirked maliciously as his father’s face fell

“You are a very sick boy, Lucius” he shook his head in disbelief. He had known this was said in jest, but the depths of his bleak imagination had been one of the few thigs still to surprise the ancient being.

“No father, Matthew is the sick one. I am perfectly well, perhaps you are losing your mind”.

The clip around the earlobe Lucius received from that comment could still be felt almost 2000 years later.

#fic #adow #a discovery of witches #matthew clairmont #baldwin montclair #philipe de clairmont #hugh #ysabeau de clermont

[elldell1204]

Nightmare - Upstead Fic

This is my first Upstead fic, so I really hope you like it as I am so proud of it 😊 It’s starts towards the end of 7x09 and is an alternative, more tense ending to the actual episode/storyline, in my opinion. Enjoy!

wc - 3,688

“Angela.” It was almost a whisper, that’s how dry his throat was and how weak he had grown over the last twenty-four hours of almost constant beatdowns. Not only did Jay have to deal with the physical torture, but the mental one too. Every moment that led up to where he was right now was being replayed in his head, seeing as he has nothing more to do. Being the type of guy who always tries to find a way to improve himself in every way possible, he’s picking apart each second, imagining the hundreds of different ways things could have gone differently if he had just let the call go to voicemail, told his partner where he was going, gone in with backup, heard the guy’s footsteps behind him, fought him off. Hell, he was even going back as far as to question his quick decision of Marcus West being the one responsible for the murder of two young boys. He sees now though that he was getting too involved, being too emotional, trying his absolute best not to slip into the cold, heartless shell of a man that returned from Afghanistan all those years ago to the point where he went too far and got an innocent man killed. 

“Angela.” He tried again, prying the eye open that wasn’t glued shut with dried blood from the gash on his forehead. “Kick one of those pipes over to me.”

The woman that sat slumped against the pipes across from him raised her head. But she didn’t meet his eyes. How could she after what he had just revealed to her? The man before her had murdered her husband, in her mind. And even though her only chance at survival was to work with him, she had absolutely no desire in her heart to do so. He deserved to die, and if that meant that she would too, then so be it. But every time her thoughts ventured there, she reminded herself of her son. He already lost his father, so he needed his mother more than ever.

“C’mon, Angela.” He had managed to free his left hand by now, the ropes that once bound him hanging loose from his wrist as he gestured towards the objects in question. “We gotta work together if we’re gonna get outta here, so you have to kick one over, c’mon, please. It’s the only way.”

It was then she lifted her eyes to his. The dark chestnut pools had lost all life and purpose and were emotionally empty, barring the harsh disgust that was boring holes straight through to Jay’s soul, so deep he could sense it bubbling inside him, the feeling so undeniably familiar, being that he felt it towards himself the night he discovered his mistake, unable to correct it as it was too late.

***

Unbeknownst to Jay, his beloved unit was rallying outside the very building he was being held prisoner in, ready to take down an army if it meant they’d save him.

Voight was dishing out orders to each of them, but Hailey wasn’t listening, not really. She knew she’d do anything to get to Jay, even if it meant going against the boss’ orders or putting her own life in danger. Thoughts of how she could be so stupid to let him go without backup or to get her hopes up that he’d be in the van for the exchange kept swirling around in her brain. But she had to be totally focused on the now. The next few minutes could land anywhere on the spectrum between the most ideal scenario of finding him perfectly okay and finding him in a lifeless heap on the floor. She had to be alert and ready for anything.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate when Kevin hoisted her up to crawl through the vent in the wall.

***

It was now or never. The weaker of their two captors had come down the stairs a few seconds ago, armed with a water bottle and a fresh dressing for Angela’s wound. Now he was knelt down beside her, applying it whilst trying to keep down whatever he had for lunch. It was pretty much useless. She needed a miracle after the amount of blood she had already lost, and still it kept gushing out, even though Jay was pretty sure she didn’t have a much left.

“There you go.” The man announced, getting to his feet but staying crouched.

“Can I have some water?” Jay piped up, adrenaline starting to seep into his blood at the mere thought of the feat he was going to have to pull off.

The man simply looked over his shoulder at the battered and bruised body behind him, showing no objection nor acceptance.

“Please, man.” Jay begged now, his voice breathier to play the part.

The man’s gaze returned and stayed on Angela as he grabbed the water bottle, stepping backwards towards Jay when the harsh ringing of the metal pipe echoed throughout the murky basement as it collided with his head.

After he dropped to the floor, Jay checked he was out cold before sliding the rope, tied to his right wrist, off the pipe. He attempted to get to his feet, but he felt the room spin and decided on crawling until his blood pressure went back up. He once again checked the man was unconscious along with casting a glance over to the stairs to make sure the other guy wasn’t on his was to beat the crap out of him. Satisfied with the answer to both, he searched his victim’s pockets for a weapon of any kind. He found a switchblade, and although he would have preferred a gun, it would have to do. He then grabbed the pipe before crossing the short distance to Angela, kneeling down beside her.

“You did good.” He said, a little out of breath, as he used to knife to cut through the ropes that tethered her to the pipes like he was. The only acknowledgement he got was a helpless whimper and a sad little nod.

“Okay, stay here,” he gave the pipe to Angela, then laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m going after the other one.”

And he was up. As stealthily as he could, he climbed the stairs, attempting to stay flat to the wall and out of sight. He could hear the words flowing from the other guy’s mouth, anger lacing each one, along with heavy footsteps reverberating across the floor above him. Then after a deep breath, he emerged, sprinting towards the guy who had his back turned. That was until Jay was about three feet away, when he promptly turned and fought back, blocking the slashes of Jay’s hand with his forearm and landing a punch to Jay’s gut with his other hand. It didn’t stop Jay though, he swung and he swung, and he knew, he knew that he’d have this guy by now if he wasn’t so goddamn weak and in pain.

The guy managed to forcefully shove Jay away from him, long enough to raise his revolver and fire a shot off. A lucky shot. One that ripped through the flesh of Jay’s shoulder like it was paper.

And he screamed.

A guttural scream that resonated from somewhere deep inside of him as the pain ripped through him. He staggered backwards, clutching at his wound whilst the agony set in.

And he was so goddamn close to getting out of there.

“Jay!”

He heard it. And though it was fairly far away, he couldn’t mistake that voice for anyone else’s.

Hailey.

Oh, how he cursed himself for not telling her how he felt before. He knew how unreliable tomorrow is, he’d experienced it first-hand with too many people, yet still he had assumed it was going to come around. Now all he had left to ease the pain of his stupidity was to convince himself that she would be better off without him. She deserves so much better than him. He was a murderer, essentially. And we’re not talking the bad guys, here. Marcus West had been on his conscious since the day he died, and despite the numerous assurances from multiple people that it wasn’t his fault that he died, he knew in his heart that at least some part of it was. He reverted his mind back to Hailey as he waited for the second and fatal shot to come his way. After all, if he was going to go out, he knew it would be a lot more peaceful if his thoughts were filled with bright blonde hair, bright blue eyes that remined him of the sky on the most perfect of sunny days and the infectious smile that could make him feel whole when he caused it.

***

She heard the gunshot. She’d heard hundreds before, but this one, the one that was most likely the difference between life and death for her partner, was the loudest. So loud it made her heart stop and legs go weak at the same time. It felt as if the walls were suffocating her, coaxing her into an unconscious state where nothing was real. Not like a dream, but less of a nightmare than the one she was living in now.

But she clutched onto reality, staying awake and hauling herself back into the moment.

“Jay!” She screamed as powerful as she could, her legs finding the strength to sprint in the direction of the gunshot. It was her only way of telling him that she was there and begging him to hold on, for her.

She needs him alive. She needs him to have her back, in every aspect of life. She needs him to make her smile when everything else seems dreary.

She needs him.

***

“C’mon, pretty boy.”

Jay was only partially conscious as he was half dragged, half stumbling up the steps to the roof. He had no idea what this guy was doing. Why didn’t he just finish him off when he had the chance?

They practically burst through the door and onto the roof, the guy shoving Jay so that he fell to his knees in from of him. He groaned, but still managed to get to his feet, albeit achingly slowly. Turning to face his captor, he was met with the barrel of a gun.

“Who are you?” The man seethed. “You told us your name was Jim, but that girl shouted Jay.”

Jay didn’t say a word. He just maintained eye contact with his one good eye.

“And the way you fought me...I have to give it to you; you were pretty damn good.” The man chuckled sadistically before stopping abruptly. “Which makes it very likely that you’re a cop.”

Jay’s eyes must have flickered, because the man soon cocked the revolver, taking a step forward and urging Jay to take a step back.

“Fuck.” The man grimaced. “I knew it.”

“You’re done, man.” Jay said, seeing his chance to negotiate. “It’s over, you can’t win. So either shoot me and get charged with the murder of a police officer, or let me go. You can escape, if you’re quick, and no one will even know you were here. I’ll tell them your buddy was the only guy and he was the one who shot me.”

He genuinely seemed to consider it, only for a second, before a rage burned in his eyes stronger than Jay had ever witnessed before.

“Why can’t I have both things that I want? You, dead, and escape.” He inched further forward, the barbaric smile returning, and Jay stepped further back. “As far as I know, you fell off the roof trying to let your cop buddies know you were up here.”

That’s when Jay realised how close to the edge he was, and a lump grew in his throat.

***

“Where the hell is he?” Hailey shouted, slamming her hands down on the table beside her. The rest of the unit, which had recently regrouped after sweeping the warehouse, flinched at the loud bang but understood her frustration as they felt it themselves. Hailey found the spot where the gunshot had happened; the blood splatter on the wall tipped her off. The first place she looked was down the stairs, but she had only found Angela, slouched against the wall, and one of the captors, laid out unconscious. But no gun, and no Jay.

“There’s only two exits, and Kim and Rojas have them covered. Let’s do another sweep of the warehouse, they can’t have just disappeared.” Voight ordered, and they all dispersed, except Hailey, who still had both hands firmly planted on the table as she breathed deeply, grasping onto the little composure she had left.

That’s when she realised there were more than two exits. There was one leading onto the roof.

She sprinted off towards the stairs that she’d memorised from the blueprints and climbed them faster than she thought humanly possible. When she reached the roof, she couldn’t help but to throw open the door, her gun raised ready to fire. And as she stepped out onto the roof, she took a split second to thank her past self for taking an extra few minutes to look over the blueprints one last time.

***

Both men heard the door open, only Jay had the advantage of being the one facing it. Which is why he had a few second lead of seeing the flurry of blonde hair rushing out. And also why he had the chance, whilst his captor turned to see what the noise was, to grab the gun and attempt to pry it from his hands. But the attempt was unsuccessful, mainly down to the fact only one of his arms was currently operational, so it resulted in a struggle of tangled limbs and grunts as each man tried to claim the gun as their own. That also meant that Hailey didn’t have a clear shot in fear of shooting her partner.

But suddenly she wished she had taken the chance and trusted her skills when both bodies tumbled off the roof.

She couldn’t move. She was fixed in place in fear of seeing her partner, her best friend, falling to his death. That’s when she heard the crack, the one from the bodies hitting the sidewalk, and it was then that every fibre of her being wanted to shatter. She wanted to fall to her hands and knees and wail and howl until she was hoarse and her tears had formed puddles below her.

But she didn’t. She ran to the edge of the building where she braced herself before looking over, ready to confirm her worst nightmare. And down on the pavement were mangled limbs and spattered blood surrounding them.

And Jay grasping onto a protruding metal pole with his right hand, his body dangling precariously as he grits his teeth to endure the pain.

Hailey couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t religious, but she thanked whoever was looking down right now for the miracle that just occurred.

“Jay!” She shouted, and you could tell she was on the threshold of breaking down from the way even the single syllable she spoke wobbled with unshed tears. She reached down her hand to grab his wrist, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pull him up on her own, even if she had all the adrenaline in the world pumping through her veins. “Help! On the roof!”

She screamed it once. Twice. Three times. All the while, keeping her grip on Jay’s wrist as he hung helplessly. But she could tell he was getting tired, and he was already weak to begin with. The next time she spoke she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Just hold on, Jay, please. Please hold on.” It came out almost in sobs, but she was so desperate for him to stay strong that she didn’t care.

“Oh my god, Hailey!” Kevin shouted from the top of the stairs behind her. She heard his footsteps racing across the gravel before he dropped to his stomach beside her and looked over the edge. He didn’t hesitate to grab Jay’s arm, both him and Hailey heaving the man up and onto the roof.

And that’s where he gave up, falling to his back as the agony washed over him in full force, the adrenaline wearing off in its entirety.

“Jay, stay with me. Stay with me.” Hailey cried out, her bright blonde hair and fresh blue eyes as crystalline as the lake on a summer’s day being the last thing he remembers before slipping into unconsciousness.

***

The next thing he knows, the repetitive beep of the monitor and the chemical smell that lingers in the air is what he’s waking up to, along with the warm hand that is interlocked with his own and keeping him close. He flickers open his eyes, letting them adjust to the harsh white light before opening them fully and looking around. His brother is leant against the doorframe, watching him as he stirs before catching his eyes and smiling gratefully. To his right is a mess of blonde hair splayed out over the covers as Hailey rests her head and her eyes. He can tell she’s asleep from her slow breathing, but she looks anything but peaceful. He turns his attention back to Will, who is now walking gently towards him.

“Hey little bro,” he whispers. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Jay quipped, his voice hoarse, managing a small smile.

Will merely smirked before explaining what happened when they got to the hospital, speaking quietly at Jay’s request so he didn’t wake Hailey. Once he was done, he left with a nod and a remark about letting the two lovebirds have some time together.

Jay inhaled and exhaled deeply before gathering the courage to wake Hailey. He ran his fingers through her hair then caressed her cheek with his thumb until she stirred. She sat up, a little disoriented at first but she soon came back to earth. That’s when she realised what woke her, and any remnants of sleep were quickly shaken away.

“You’re awake.” She breathed out, a little disbelieving despite the surgeon saying he was due to make a full recovery.

“So are you.” He smirked.

Silence hung in the air once more, but it was neither comfortable nor awkward. Both of them could tell there were words that needed to be said, but they couldn’t find the right ones. Somewhat luckily, that’s when Voight decided to grace them with his presence.

***

It was a little later now, and Hailey had just returned from work to sit with Jay again. He wasn’t being discharged for a least another few days, much to his dismay, but he was glad that she was there to make the wait more enjoyable. Whilst she was gone, he figured out what he wanted to say to her, the exact words, only when she stepped into the room a few minutes ago, they seemed to escape him. But it was now or never, so he threw caution to the wind and went with what his heart was telling him.

“Hailey?” It was a little louder than a whisper that he managed at first, but she heard and was up on her feet in no time.

“What is it? Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse? Or are you thirsty? I can get you some water…” She was a little on edge. She wasn’t used to seeing her partner, the war vet, the first person through the door, so incapacitated and…weak.

“No, no, I’m good.” He chuckled, and she relaxed, exhaling deeply and sitting down on the edge of the bed before meeting his eyes. He smiled softly, as did she. “You saved me.”

“Well, Kevin was the one to- “

“No, Hailey, you saved me. When that guy shot me, I was so close to giving up. I was so sure that that was it, that I was going to die on the cold, stone floor of a warehouse. But then I heard your voice. It gave me hope, it reminded me I had something, someone, worth fighting for, so close to me that I could hear you. And I was devastated when he dragged me up to that roof, but I knew that you’d find me if I just kept him talking, and you did, and you saved me again. And then when we fell, I grabbed onto that pipe, but I was so tired, Hailey, I didn’t think I was going to keep hold of it much longer. But then you told me to hold on, and I knew that I had to because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to hear your voice again, I wouldn’t see your smile light up a room again or hear your laugh and have it make my day. And I realised, Hailey, that I couldn’t let go, because that would mean giving up on a chance of having the most amazing life with you, and I could never pass that up in a million years. So, yes, Hailey, you saved me.”

That’s when he realised that she had silent tears streaming down her face, but a small smile graced her features.

“Jay…I…” She started, but she too was unable to put her feelings into words, as none seemed to convey the immensity of them. So she leaned down and captured his lips with her own, cupping the back of his head with her hand, kissing him so sweetly and passionately that she poured a thousand words worth of her feelings into that one kiss. It was like everything around them vanished, as if nothing else existed but them. He returned it immediately, holding her cheek in his palm, and they bared their souls, showing how much love they have for one another, and suddenly they both felt utterly complete.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead fic #upstead fiction #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #jay x hailey #jay halstead fluff #jay halstead angst #chicago pd imagine #hailey upton imagine #upstead fanfiction #jay halstead fanfiction #cpd 7x10 #cpd 7x09 #hailey upton fanfiction #jay halstead x reader

[impala-dreamer]

Rules Be Damned

SPN FanFic

~Look, in this line of work, something's always getting thrown at someone. There have to be rules. Rules that have to be followed. Unless, ya know, you need to break them...~

Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, OFC

6,780 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sex Pollen. DubCon-ish. Established Relationships. Fuck or Die. All the Smut.

A/N: This was based off an anonymous prompt from my One Day Only request line. Hope you all enjoy!

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Twigs broke under boots, branches gave way to waving arms.

The forest was loud that evening; wildlife screamed as they scrambled away from rushing bodies, birds overhead chirped in warning.

Three hunters with guns on the ready took on the woods like an invading army, stomping down grass, destroying bushes, kicking over habitats, unaware of the ecosystems dying around them. They were on a mission and they would not be stopped. People were dying, children disappearing. It was up to them to bring the terror that had befallen Silver Ridge to an end.

Y/N broke away from Dean and Sam, following her gut deep into the forest. She could have sworn she saw something move in the corner of her eye, and veered right when the guys went left. Now, even if she tried, she couldn’t see them through the trees; flannel and canvas was hidden by late summer greens.

The light was dying, sky turning golden ahead. Sun pulsed through the treeline like a strobe as she ran, trying to catch up with the phantom she’d seen.

Somewhere in the background, Dean yelled her name and she turned, nearly spraining her ankle as she stopped short, body moving towards his voice automatically.

“Dean?” she called back, but there was no answer, only an echo slapping her in the face. “Sam!”

The air shifted behind her and Y/N spun back around, catching a glimpse of the being she’d been chasing. The bastard was screwing with her. She was getting close.

“You wanna play games?” she asked under her breath, drawing up her pistol and taking a step. “We can play.”

She ran again, desperate to catch up with the monster. Every time she felt close, the fiend jumped further away. It was as if they were playing with a different set of rules; Y/N bound by earthly physics, and the target able to magically get around at will.

“Fuckin’ faeries.” Y/N stopped, out of breath and done with the chase. It was pointless anyway. “Coward!” She yelled, trying to incite the creature’s wrath. “Come out and fight me like a man!”

“Now, why would I do that?”

Y/N spun around in a full circle, eyes scanning the forest for the source of the comment. She held her breath as the air stilled around her, warming gently like the heat was finally coming up in an old house.

“Where are you!” she yelled, and finally, a figure appeared.

Awkwardly tall and too thin, with an alien yet beautiful face, the fae presented herself to Y/N. She wore no clothes that could be seen, but long golden hair covered her icy pale skin.

“Why would I want to fight like a man?” she asked, voice like a lullaby. “Men are not nearly as powerful as we women. It would be a disgrace to us both, to the fight itself, were we to act like men.”

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes from the creature, enraptured by the halo of sunset that outlined her gentle curves; caught in the magic flowing from her pale pink lips, tranced by a voice too melodic and lovely to be real.

Somehow, she managed to blink enough to clear her mind. She raised her arm and took aim; gun trained on the fae’s head. “Why are you stealing the children!” she shouted, hoping her yell would bring the Winchesters to her aid.

The faerie smiled sadly. “We’re not stealing them,” she explained. “We’re giving them a new, better life. They want to be with us.”

Y/N grit her teeth and tried not to be pulling in by her sweet voice again. “You’re murdering their parents!”

“We do what we have to do.”

“So do I.” Y/N’s index finger pulsed on the trigger and she exhaled slowly, ready to shoot.

Before the muscles in her hand could contract, the fae struck in defense, shooting a single bolt of bright white lightning passed Y/N’s shoulder. It struck the tree behind her and Y/N looked up just as the canopy above came to life. Hundreds of pink flowers suddenly bloomed on the tree, aglow with sunset and magical dew. As she looked on, the flowers were illuminated in hot pink and blinding white light and the wind picked up, blowing the petals from their branches, raining down upon Y/N with a force that knocked her to the ground.

Her vision exploded in bright pink and red; the edges cut in snowy white. She felt the ground beneath her back, heard the rustle of leaves and petals, smelled the sweet perfume of exotic flora as she slipped into a warm dream.

A shot rang out, its loud boom echoing through the forest.

“Son of a bitch! Y/N!” Dean’s voice truly called out this time, but Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He’d clipped the fairy bitch, he was sure of it. A trickle of sparkling purple tainted the leaves where he’d last seen it. He ran a finger through the goo and grimaced. “What the hell is this? Blood? Come on. Next we’ll be hunting unicorns.”

Wiping the glittery blood on his jeans, Dean turned with his gun raised, squinting into the trees looking for the wounded fae. “Where’d you go, you stupid bitch!”

In response, Dean heard nothing but a faint moan from the forest floor a few paces away. Green eyes turned to a blanket of pink petals covering the ground, and a hand rose from the flowers.

“Y/N?”

He grabbed her hand and yanked, pulling Y/N up out of the thick mess of millions of pink flowers. She sat up and gasped, eyes wide and empty, lips parted and begging for air.

“Dean?”

He nodded and tucked his gun in his jeans, freeing up a hand to help her stand. “Yeah, Y/N/N. You OK? What the hell happened?”

She was covered head to toe in a faint dusting of gold and Dean wiped a bit from her cheek with his fingertips. She shivered at his touch and sighed. “Mmm. I don’t know,” she said, eyes rolling as if still stuck in a dream. “I...found the fairy and she...poof!” Y/N laughed at herself and looked up at Dean, patting his cheek with a glittery hand. “You shoot her?”

Dean sighed. “No. I clipped her. Bleeds purple, by the way. Like a freakin troll doll or something.”

Y/N giggled and pulled her hand away, leaving gilded fingerprints on his cheekbones. “Dean?” she smiled, licking her lips.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna pass out now.”

He caught her as she fell, guiding her gently back down to the ground. “Well, crap. Sam!”

The younger, taller Winchester skidding to a halt a yard or so behind Dean. He scanned the perimeter quickly before rushing over to his brother.

“What happened?” Sam knelt and pressed his fingers to Y/N’s pulse.

“She’s not dead!” Dean snapped, shifting her carefully in his arms. “Just passed out. I found her buried under all these flowers.”

Sam pulled his hand back and rubbed his fingers together, looking at the golden dust inquisitively. “What’s all over her?”

“I have no idea- shit.”

As they looked on, the golden mist clinging to Y/N’s skin disappeared, pulled in deep through every pore until nothing remained. When the last bit was gone,Y/N’s eyes fluttered and she moaned happily, waking up with two handsome men looking down at her.

“Hello there,” she teased, voice dripping with honey.

Dean dropped his chin to look her in the eye. “You alright?”

Y/N smiled and dragged her hand slowly down his chest. “Yeah…” Her gaze dropped to the flannel under her fingertips as she rubbed it gently. “Wow, this is so soft.”

The brothers exchanged a silently worried look and Dean cleared his throat.

“Let’s get you back to the motel, huh?”

Y/N bit her lip and rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. “Mkay.”

The walk back to the car was nearly impossible. Y/N had to stop every few minutes to touch something. Trees, grass, flowers, rocks- nothing was safe from her hands and she was safe from none of it. Every new texture entranced her, every touch was electric. She was floating through darkening forest, high and in love with the universe, guided by a firm but careful hand.

When they got to the car, Y/N was nearly whimpering. It wasn’t just the firm pressure of Dean’s hand at the small of her back, or the luscious and oddly sensual textures of the world around her, but every step made her jeans rub against her inner thighs and it was driving her insane. By the time they reached the Impala, her pussy was throbbing.

Dean pulled open her door and nodded to the seat. “Why don’t you lay down? You look stoned.”

Y/N could barely hear him, her entire focus was drawn to the car. She ran her hands slowly across the curve of the roof and down to the trunk, biting her lip as the cool metal made her skin dimple.

“Y/N?” Dean watched her stop by the left taillight and rub herself against the car. She moaned as the hard steel pushed against her hips. “Y/N/N?” Her eyes rolled closed and her lip disappeared between a firm bite as she rocked forward again. “Hey!” He rushed towards her and pulled her from his Baby. “Are you… humping my car?”

Y/N laughed and slapped his shoulder hard. “You’re insane.” Her hand lingered on his arm and her eyes grew huge as the muscles beneath the fabric tensed. “You’re...so strong…”

Her chest heaved and Dean looked at Sam who simply shrugged and got in the car.

“Yeah...thanks. Get in.”

Inside was no better. The leather, the windows, the upholstered roof; Y/N’s touch was immune to none of it and every pass of her fingers made her body quiver. Everything felt so good.

Dean turned the engine and glanced in the rearview. Y/N was in the middle of the seat, head back, hands trailing down her extended neck. She hummed and chewed her lip, let her eyes roll back as the pleasure took over.

He swallowed hard as a wave of heat flooded his senses. “Shit.”

Sam turned to look at him. “You OK?” His turn continued and the sight of Y/N massaging her breasts behind him made his heart skip. “Oh.”

Dean nodded, practically drooling as he watched her reflection. “Yeah.”

“We should get back,” Sam suggested, hazel eyes desperate to stay locked on her lustful expression while his brain told him to look away.

Dean squirmed in his seat, hands suddenly caressing the steering wheel as Y/N dropped a hand down her stomach. “Yeah…”

When the zipper of her jeans fell, both men shook themselves awake.

“You OK to drive?” Sam asked, cheeks red and flushed.

“I’m always OK to drive.” Dean sneered at Sam but swooned as he looked away, feeling so aroused that it was almost painful.

From the backseat, Y/N moaned loudly and Dean accidentally looked back to see her right hand disappear into her blue cotton panties.

“Fuck.”

Sam snuck a peek too and regretted it instantly. He cleared his throat. “Drive.”

The twenty mile ride back to the motel was rather intense. Y/N had somehow stripped enough to slip two fingers into her cunt and the sound of her fucking herself was made Dean so hard his cock could drive if he unzipped.

Sam was deep into the lore on his tablet, but not immune to the wet slide behind him or the pitiful whimper as Y/N tugged on her nipples. She’d hiked her bra up above her tits so she could reach, and twisted hard until each side was sensitive and ruddy.

“God, I...fuck!” She could barely speak when they pulled into the parking lot, riding the edge with her feet spread and heels dug into the leather seat.

Sam hurried to his room, unable to sit in the car any longer listening to her symphony of ecstasy.

Dean refused to look back, knowing he’d never make it out of the car if he did. His hand kept creeping closer to his cock; every touch of his fingers on his thighs making his blood sing.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, painfully sauntering to the back door. “Let’s get inside.” He pulled open the door and gasped.

Y/N’s fingers were knuckle deep, her wrist slick and shining, her mouth open in a silent cry.

“Fuck.” He pushed down on his erection, hoping to relieve it a bit, but all it did was make his ears ring. “Come on, baby, inside.” He reached for her but Y/N couldn’t stop the rhythmic pumping of her hand.

“Can’t...stop,” she whimpered, turning her lust-darkened eyes to Dean. “Feels too good. Too good...too good…”

Dean swallowed hard and took her free hand, noticing instantly how soft her skin was, how warm. “OK,” he said gently. “Just...um…suck on your fingers while we walk, OK? That will feel good, won’t it? You like doing that.”

Y/N grinned and nodded absently as she pulled her hand from her cunt, giving her clit one more tap before letting go. “Yeah. I like to suck,” she agreed.

Dean whistled. “I know you do, babygirl. OK, come on.”

He helped her stand, trying not to brush his hand across her firm nipples as he lowered her shirt; screaming internally as he tugged her jeans back up.

Y/N sucked on her fingers, rolling her tongue around and between, making the most obscene noises Dean had ever heard outside of a Skinemax pay per view. “‘M so ot, De,” she mumbled around her hand, spit leaking from the corners of her mouth.

Dean managed to get the key in the lock and shove the door open. “What?”

“I’m so hot!” she exclaimed, pulling her fingers away as she stumbled into the room. She tugged at her shirt.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed lustfully, watching her rip the clothes from her sweat-covered body as he shut the door. “You really fucking are.”

Once naked, Y/N sighed loudly, her entire body shivering as the air conditioner spit slightly cool air through the room. “I feel...so… good,” she slurred, fingertips plucking at her bottom lip. She ran a hand down her body and back up, squeezing her breasts as Dean watched on in awe.

His dick was painfully full, aching, crushed against his tight jeans. “Jesus.” He pushed his palm down against it and his jaw shook as a wave of pleasure hit his system.

“So...soft...so...hot.” Y/N turned and looked at Dean with crazed eyes, her mind flooded with lust. “You wanna touch?” she asked, slipping her right hand down between her thighs.

Dean’s tongue tried to escape, but he pulled it back as he cleared his throat. “You’re killing me, Y/N/N.” He looked away, falling down onto the ratty old sofa, hoping to catch his breath.

“Touch me, Dean,” she cooed, dipping her fingers inside her slick pussy. “Need you…” Her brows twitched and she pouted, spreading her knees just a bit so she could slide her hand in deeper. Every movement made her gasp in tiny breaths until her chest was heaving and Dean’s mind was reeling.

“I…fuck.” Unconsciously, he’d been rubbing his cock through his jeans, consumed with how good the simple touch felt. If he felt this good, she must feel even better. “No. No. Just… you’ve been cursed with something. Just ride it out, baby.”

Y/N bit her lip and growled. “Mmm...I could ride you.” She smirked and pinched her nipple hard, pulling it out as far as she could, watching Dean’s reaction.

He let out a heavy breath through puckered lips, almost in pain as she showed off for him. “Just lay down, will you? Shit.”

Still touching herself, Y/N backed up slowly until the bed caught her at the knees. She fell backwards, landing with a puff of blankets, and spread her legs wide. “Curse or not,” she sang, “this is...amazing.” She crooked her wrist and dug her fingers in deep, slowly petting her g spot as everything trembled. “God, I feel like… like… it’s so… mmm.”

Dean’s left hand was traveling upwards, gliding over his own stomach as he watched her thrash on the bed. His mind was clouded but his resolve was true. She was under a spell. There were strict rules about these sorts of things; there had to be. One or more of them were constantly getting hit with strange spells or picking up the wrong object at a crime scene. Something was always happening and without rules, there would be trouble.

“Dean…” She called to him, moaning his name again and again as her cunt clenched.

He bit his tongue and tugged at his nipples, only then realizing that he’d torn his layers away.

“Dean, I need you.” Her hips rocked.

His throat tightened. “Sam’s looking for a cure, I’m sorry, baby.”

Impossibly, she spread her legs even wider and rubbed furiously at her clit. “Please…”

“We…” Dean was panting around his words, fingers closing firmly around his dick. “We have rules, Y/N/N…”

"Screw...your...rules…" Her voice was weak, high and full of frustration. Her arms were growing heavy, tired from their work, but her arousal was only growing stronger. "Not like...we haven't…" Y/N choked on her words as a rush of bliss washed through her. "Fuck!"

Dean sank deep into the dusty couch cushions as he jerked his cock in time with her movements. He tried to stop, to pull himself out of it, but logic could only fight so hard. "I know, but… this isn't...there's…"

Y/N sat up suddenly, her eyes locked on his fat erection, lips wet with drool. "If you say rules again so help me." Her pupils dilated fully, her skin flushed. Y/N watched as his fist slid up and down, up...and...down…

"Dean."

She was on him before he could respond, and he blinked up at her in awe as she ran a pair of boiling fingers down his chest.

He hissed at her touch. "Jesus, why does that feel so good?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with golden light and she sank to her knees in front of him. "Need your cock, Dean." Her voice was steady, monotone yet certain. He could hear how heavy her breaths were, feel their heat fan across his belly.

"We should wait...fuck."

He melted instantly, letting go of the rules when her lips brushed over his cock. She kissed the tip and looked up with eerily bright eyes, so happy that he was finally giving in.

"Need your cock," she said again, taking a longer taste. "Need to suck."

Dean dropped a hand to the nape of her neck and squeezed gently. "So...suck."

Again, a flash of gold lit her eyes, but Dean didn't notice. He was too lost in the push of her lips as they moved down his shaft, the hot slide of her tongue against his pulsing vein, the slight scrape of her top teeth over his head.

Y/N moaned as she worked; her legs spread, pussy dripping onto the ugly carpet. Every pass of her lips made her cunt hungrier, every satisfied groan from Dean made her suck harder. Her head was empty, thoughts drifting far into the background. Her vision swirled with gold and pink; everything was warm and delicious. Everything came back to sex.

"Need to fuck," she hummed, pulling away from Dean's cock with a loud pop of perfectly locked lips. She pumped him fast with both hands, licking at the tip like a lollipop. "Need to fuck...now."

Dean licked his lips and opened his eyes, looking down at Y/N with fully blown pupils. "Get up here," he growled, tugging at her arms to help her up.

He lost his breath as she sank down into his lap. Her body was so hot, skin so smooth, cunt so slick. Her thighs laid gracefully atop his, her hands curled around the nape of his neck. She kissed him slowly, tongue penetrating his hushed lips.

"Dean…"

His eyes flew open; green rimmed in gold. "Move." His teeth were clenched tight; his fingertips dug into her waist. "Now."

Y/N sucked at his bottom lip and rode him hard, using all of her strength to fuck herself on his thick cock. He clung to her back, holding her close, helping her move, utterly lost in the sensations that flooded his system.

Hot, sweet, wet, firm, soft.

Harder.

Faster.

Tighter.

"Need your cum," she cried; voice deafening against his ear.

Dean locked his arms around her and stood up, managing to turn towards the bed before stumbling forward. They fell together in a heap of sweat and lust; lips reaching, fingers clawing.

He slammed inside of her, pumping in languid strokes until she shifted beneath him, arching her back and lifting her hips just an inch. She spasmed around him, cumming hard, eyes gilded and wide, mouth a perfect circle of cherry red.

Dean's jaw twitched as he came, holding back a wild howl. Every muscle contracted, every nerve ending exploded with feeling. He doubled over, kissing her madly before rolling away, out of breath and exhausted.

The light dimmed from his green eyes and he smiled, drunk on the afterglow. “That was...wow.” He chuckled and scrounged around for the pillow, bunching it up beneath his cheek. “Rules be damned. Ha!”

Y/N was still squirming. Her fingers ran slowly up and down her sides, in between her thighs, over each breast. Her breath was steady but deep; chest rising and falling with dramatic dips that Dean missed entirely as his eyes fell closed.

“You OK?” he mumbled absently before letting out a snore. “I just gotta...take five…”

The heat was rising again and Y/N whined as she tugged on her nipples, forcefully rubbing her thighs together for a hint of friction. “Need cock...need to fuck.” Her words were crisp and pathetic, but Dean was well passed hearing her pleas.

Desperation brought her back to the sofa and Y/N climbed onto the arm, straddling the upholstered corner. Her thighs closed tight and she bent forward; bare tits grazing the old fabric. She moaned as her nipples responded, bit her lip as her clit rubbed hard against the arm.

“Need to fuck!”

Sam knocked but didn’t wait for an answer, walking in with his head down, his eyes glued to his phone. He scrolled upwards with his thumb as he spoke, making sure he was accurately relaying his findings.

“So get this, if I’m looking at this correctly…”

Y/N froze as soon as Sam began to speak, his deep voice churning inside of her and grabbing every ounce of attention. She stilled her rocking against the sofa and stood up, turning towards Sam as he shut the door behind him.

“...this tribe of faerie are mostly tricksters, and I think…”

Y/N licked her lips as her eyes flashed; golden and bright. She crossed the room quickly and was pressed up against Sam before he even looked up.

“...this curse was just a...oh!”

Her hand slipped up beneath his flannel, fingertips rolling over the hard lines of his abdomen. “Sam.” She whispered his name like a song, pushing her nakedness up against him.

Sam gasped, holding his breath as her hand dipped between his waist and his jeans. Her skin was hot, her touch soft and inviting. He suddenly felt… good.

“Y/N, stop." His tone was as weak as his resolve, and logic waned as her fingers brushed the base of his swiftly stiffening cock. "We...you're under a spell. Shit." Her palm pressed into him and Sam sucked his teeth. "Oh, god."

"Need you, Sam," she begged with a pout; firm tits rubbing against his arm. "Need to fuck."

A hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Y/N pushed up on her tiptoes, desperate to drag his lips down to hers. Sam gave in to the moment and looked down into her eyes, ready to let go just once and live in the moment.

Her fingers pulsed around his dick.

He bent down to her lips.

Her eyes glowed with golden light.

"Stop!" Sam pushed her away as gently as he could, forced back into reality by her preternatural gaze. "Y/N, we have to wait it out, OK?" He looked at the bed for the first time since arriving and saw that Dean had not had the same fortitude to hold back. "Shit."

Y/N cocked her head and poured. "Don't you want me?" she asked, presenting her hard nipples for him. She pushed her tits together from beneath, holding them up for his inspection. "Touch me, Sam." Her voice was strange to his ears, empty but rhythmic and for a moment, logic seemed a waste.

Sam stared at her breasts, his jaw slack, jeans tight.

Y/N took a step towards him. "Please, Sam. Need to feel you. All of you."

He lifted his right hand and she held her breath as it hovered over her chest.

"Need to fuck." The gold returned to her eyes. "Need to...cum."

"Shit!" Sam turned away, forcing himself to stay calm. His cock was aching already; laying long and hard against his thigh. His skin was tingling, begging to touch and be touched, but he pushed it all away with a steady breath. "You had been put under a love spell," he said, to her as much to himself. "It was just a distraction so the fae could get away. It will wear off, we just have to…" Y/N pressed herself against his back, hands sneaking around to have their way with him. "...we just have to…" Hot fingers reached up to brush across his nipples and Sam shivered. "...have to stay…" A small but determined hand curved over his erection, rubbing through the denim. "...strong."

Sam's eyes glazed over and his head tipped back as Y/N ran her hands over him. Like magic, she managed to pry the flannel from his shoulders, pull the gray tee up and over his head. She ran her lips across his skin; tongue tracing every line like it was her own. She felt so good, hitting every spot like he had given her a map to his arousal.

"Y/N…" His breath curled into her name.

Her mouth was wet on his hip bones; fingers tugging at his belt.

"Need your cock."

The monstrously mindless tone struck his ears and Sam snapped out of it again, immediately backing away. "No."

She rushed at him, pathetic and needy, yet filled with unnatural strength. "Need to fuck!" She grabbed at him, but Sam was stronger, grabbing both of her wrists to try and subdue her. "Need to fuck!"

"You need to calm down!" he countered, spinning her so that her hands were pinned behind her back.

Y/N let out a cry that nearly broke his heart. She thrashed in his grip, pulling so hard that Sam was afraid her shoulder would dislocate. "Please!"

He let her go and Y/N spun around.

"Sam. Please." Wide eyes went soft as she called to him, and suddenly, Y/N's entire frame began to crumble. Her shoulders slumped, her knees went weak, the ground began to rise.

Sam scooped her up before she fell and held her close. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered gently into her hair. "It'll be over soon."

"Sam?" Her whisper snuck upwards from the cave of his arms, and Y/N slid a hand with it.

"Yeah?"

The hand closed around the firm muscles of his shoulder, massaging with salacious intent.

"Need you, Sam. So bad."

He inhaled deeply; the smell of forest and sweat in her hair making his eyes roll gently. Her head turned, cheek on his chest replaced by lips, and Y/N kissed her way across the broad expanse, enjoying every twitch of tanned flesh.

"Fuck me, Sam," she sang. "Need to fuck."

When she popped the buckle of his belt, Sam growled in annoyance, mad at himself for falling again.

"Damnit!"

It wasn't easy to tie her up, but he made it sound like a game.

Sam sat her down and lovingly drew his hands across her bare arms until he could cuff her wrists to the chair. She hummed in aroused excitement as he knelt before her and carefully tied each ankle, spreading her naked pussy wide, but taking away all ability for her to move. She moaned happily as he stood back up, her mouth watering as his open zipper came back into view.

"Kinky Sam," she teased, lips reaching for him as he made sure the restraints weren't too tight. "Needs to tie a girl up before they fuck. I can get into that."

Sam sighed. "No. We're going to wait this out."

Arousal turned to fear. "What? No." She tugged at her cuffs. "Sam. No. Need to fuck. Please!"

He shook his head sadly and backed away. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Why!” she begged, squirming as much as she could to break free. “Don’t you want me? I want you so bad, Sam. So bad. I need you.”

He turned away; he had to. There were rules.

Dean was still passed out on the bed, somehow sleeping through all of Y/N's yelling, so Sam sat on the sofa, out of her sight. He hoped being quiet and out of view would calm her down, but she only thrashed harder, screamed more desperately.

"It'll be over soon," he assured her again and again, holding his head up with a tired hand. "It'll be OK."

Eventually, she called, flailing lessening to a mild twitch every few seconds. Her entire body would jerk violently and then settle; her head would roll from side to side. When her moans softened to weak murmurs, Sam relaxed, sitting back against the couch.

"You're gonna be fine, Y/N/N. We're all gonna be fine."

Y/N's head dropped, chin resting on her chest, and Sam closed his eyes for a blessed second of peace.

"What's going on?" A groggy Dean sat up in bed and twisted at the waist to see Y/N tied to a chair. "What the hell, Sam!"

Sam looked up and then away quickly as Dean's naked ass met his eyes. "Dude. Pants."

Dean rolled his eyes but grabbed his boxers before rushing over to Y/N. "What did you do to her?"

"Me?" Sam sat forward. "Nothing. She came at me- well, kept coming at me. I- she's under a spell. I had to."

Dean looked her over carefully, green eyes growing wide with concern. "Sam, she's not breathing." Panic rose. "Y/N!" He slapped her cheek and she came back, sucking in a heavy breath. "Fuck."

Her eyes fluttered. "Fuck? Please."

Dean let out a brief sigh of relief then looked to Sam. "What'd you do?"

"I wouldn't touch her and she kept coming at me. I don't know." He rushed to her side and her entire body began to tremble.

"Need...to…" Y/N's eyes rolled to white and she panted, unable to draw in another normal breath. "Please…"

Dean's forehead creased down the middle as worry flooded his mind. "What's happening?" His hands hovered over her body, afraid to land and hurt her.

Sam pressed to finger to her throat and closed his eyes, counting. "Her pulse is weak. I…fuck, she's cold." He pulled away and Y/N screamed at the loss of his touch. Tears ran down her cheeks as she choked for lack of air.

"She's dying, Sam!" Dean dropped to the floor and set to untying her left ankle. "Y/N! Come on, baby, wake up." He placed a hand on her thigh and the trembling stopped.

Y/N's head rolled. "Please."

Sam felt her pulse again and looked at Dean, confused. "It's helping...keep touching her."

"What?" Dean sat back, his hand slipping from her skin.

Y/N whined painfully. Her pulse dropped.

Sam clenched his jaw and reached for her breast, closing his palm over the quickly cooling flesh. Her pulse picked up and her breathing slowed. She moaned happily and Sam shook his head.

"We need to fuck her," he said softly, rubbing her tit gently.

Dean hesitated. "Excuse me?"

Y/N's trembling turned to squirming as Sam rolled her nipple between two large fingers. "It's the curse," he told Dean. "We fuck her or…"

"Please, Sam," she moaned, chewing her lip. "Please."

"Or?"

Sam squeezed her. "Or she dies."

Dean's face ran the gambit of emotions, settling on amused concern. "You know... I just did. Why-"

"Maybe it wasn't enough?"

"It was more than adequate!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "For the curse, Dean."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Well. Ok, then." He dropped his hand back to her thigh and Y/N hummed gratefully. Her hips lifted a bit and Dean's eyes were drawn to the wet flesh of her exposed cunt; juices flowing, lips swelling. His mouth watered. "Maybe she just needs to cum real bad."

Y/N's stomach tensed. She tugged at her cuffs. "Yes. Cum. Need to cum. Please!"

Gingerly, Dean ran his hand upwards and her skin warmed to the touch.

Sam’s fingers on her pulse registered the change and he nodded at Dean. “Do it.”

“Please, Dean,” Y/N whispered desperately. “Make me cum, please. Need to cum...so bad.”

His fingers slid into the crease of her thigh and Dean ran his thumb across her swollen slit. It was slick and Y/N moaned enthusiastically.

“Yeah. Please. Please!”

Dean pushed his thumb into her cunt and Y/N took in a deep breath, her eyes glowing bright as she looked down at the elder Winchester.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

He rocked forward on his knees and pressed his lips to her clit in a suckling kiss that made her hips shake.

“Yes. Please! Need to fuck. Need to cum!”

Sam felt her come back to life; saw the color flood back through her veins. As Dean rolled his tongue through her wetness, Sam let her go and slowly took a step back.

Y/N let out a painful whine. “Sam, no.” She struggled to reach for him, wrists tight against the cuffs. She turned her head towards him, lips puckering, eyes locked on his jeans. “Please!”

His cock swelled but he hesitated; the golden hue in her eyes the only thing reminding him that they were operating under magical circumstances. If it weren’t for her failing vitals, the entire scene might have been out of one of Y/N’s midnight, whiskey-fueled confessions, but it was all wrong.

A single tear escaped and trailed down Y/N’s cheek. Golden or no, her pretty eyes begged for him. “Don’t let me die, Sam…” Her strength ebbed and her head rolled; the tight in her shoulders and arms was fading, she was fading.

Sam took a breath. “I won’t, babygirl.”

The moment his cock passed between her lips, Y/N came back to life. She licked him until hard then sucked down everything he had to give her. Sam couldn’t deny the extreme sensation; there was something warmer, something softer, something more amazing about her tonight than ever before, and it wasn’t long before he was fucking into her mouth without regret.

Dean crooked his fingers deep inside her pussy and Y/N came, clenching around his knuckles. She stilled for a moment, but the whimpering returned; she needed it from both ends, needed to be so filled she couldn’t breathe.

With his right hand still massaging her cunt, Dean untied her ankles, distracting her with kisses and tiny bites on her inner thighs as Sam pulled away to open her cuffs.

They were careful to keep their hands on her at all times, at least one man doing something to her as they moved to the bed. If they were gone at the same time, she crumbled, blood pressure dropping, heart rate falling. They needed to keep her going just a little while longer.

“Need your cum,” she moaned, weak limbs thrashing on the bed as Sam helped her to her knees. “Need it so bad.” Her eyes rolled back painfully and Sam grit his teeth, gently shaking her back awake.

“Hey! Hey, hang on,” he told her, kissing her eyes back open. “Stay with us.”

Behind her, Dean gave his brother a grave look. “How much longer?”

Sam shrugged and lay back, pulling Y/N with him, safe in his arms. “I don’t know, just...just do it.”

Y/N sagged against Sam's chest, barely breathing. "Please. Need to fuck. Need your cum."

Brushing her cheek, Sam guided her eyes up to his. "Just hang on, you hear me?"

She nodded as best she could, and Sam shoved his tongue between her lips, revving her back up as if his kiss were electro shock. She breathed deeply and sat up on her own, clawing at his chest and moaning into his mouth.

Dean snuck up from behind and ran his hand firmly down her spine. "Come here, baby. I want that sweet pussy. Now." He slapped her ass gently and Y/N responded, walking backwards on her knees until Dean could take what he wanted. He plunged two fingers into her cunt and pumped slowly, covering his hand in her hot slick.

Sam's cock stood tall before her gilded eyes and Y/N took a taste, flicking at him with the tip of her tongue. With a smirk, Sam scooted down a bit and let her have it all, laying back as she closed her lips around him.

Dean fucked her steadily, his hands locked on her hips, thighs slamming firmly into her ass. Every thrust pushed her down onto Sam and every buck of Sam's hips in retaliation sent her deeper into Dean's thick cock.

She was in heaven, she was lost in the feeling; so full, so happy, so utterly and undeniably distracted. She screamed around Sam's cock as she came again, flooding Dean's cock and the stiff sheets below. Her cunt pushed and pulled at him until he couldn't hold back, and his head flew back as he came, adding to the mess at his knees.

Sam felt them both go and watched carefully as the gold dimmed in Y/N's eyes. He pushed a hand through her hair and held her in place, taking over as he reached his end. He jerked his hips hard, fucking into her tiny, hot mouth. Y/N moaned when he came, barely able to swallow him all down. It dribbled with her spit from the corners of her mouth, sliding less than gracefully down her naked body, pooling on the bed below.

She looked up as Sam pulled back and gasped, the golden light vanishing totally from her eyes.

"Fuck!" She held her breath as the room grew dark around her and collapsed into a heap between the brothers.

"Y/N!" Dean grabbed at her, carefully spinning her onto her back. "Y/N!"

Sam grabbed her wrist and sighed in relief. "She's fine. Pulse is steady." He turned away to grab his shorts and shook his head. "Ya know, we have rules for a reason, Dean."

Green eyes looked up from the bed. "I know the rules. She was dying!"

"She wasn't until you touched her."

"Excuse me?" Dean shot up from the bed, ready to fight. "I didn't do this. I was dosed too, if you don't remember."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "So was I."

"So maybe it was your fault for touching her!"

"You flat out fucked her ten minutes after getting back here."

Y/N sat up on her elbows and groaned at the boys. "You both fucked up!" she interjected, pulling the feuding hunters apart. "Now you're both gonna get over here and give me some goddamned aftercare!"

Dean laughed and Sam blushed.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean sang, hopping to get back into bed.

Y/N stopped him with a reprimanding hand. "Oh, no. You," she said pointing at Sam, "get me a wet towel. And you-" her eyes flew back to Dean, "are gonna go get me some food."

Dean pouted. "But...cuddles?"

Y/N laughed. "After pizza."

2020 Forever Tags:

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#spn fanfic #dean x reader #sam x reader #smut shot