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sednas · 1 year

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['CAUSE HE'S A F×CK BOY ─ s. gojo]

꒰ ͜͡➸ sorry what did you say? oh you want a virginkiller!gojo fic? with enemies to lovers vibes? yeah I might have this one in store for you. smut will be in the second part tho! (which will be posted in one week or five months, who knows! :))

pairing: virginkiller!gojo x virgin!fem!reader

tw: college!au, suggestive themes, virginity kink, (dub-con) make out session, gojo is annoying but hey what's new, sexual tension, light fem masturbation at the end

gojo satoru was the golden boy. the most intelligent student of his class, the most talented sports player of the school, the most popular guy of the campus, maybe even of the whole city. he was excellent at everything. people were too amazed by his talent to notice his arrogance and his condescending smile, too blinded by his bright blue eyes and his snowy white hair.

gojo was the best at everything, and it included fucking. hell, fucking was actually on top of the list. he had a cheerleader waiting for him every night in his room, sometimes he could just wink at a girl and she was already spreading her legs for him in the bathroom a few minutes later. he could have literally everyone, but what he liked best was virgins. he loved them, such good girls who managed to keep their innocence until college. they were always so easy, so pliant.

and the thing he mostly liked to do with them was fucking them so hard that nobody could ever compare after that. he wanted them to think about him every time they would fuck someone else, he wanted them to rub their thighs together while thinking about him years later, this is what he liked to do with them. of course, the thought of ruining them for their first time was also appealing, they were usually so shy and reserved, he liked to take them apart piece by piece, make them drool, and then cry, and then forcing them to look at themselves in the mirror, letting them see how the filthiest version of themselves looked like. and in the end, when they were too fucked to think, he made them say thanks.

and this was exactly what he wanted to do with you.

you were way more difficult than the others, doing your best to ignore his piercing blue eyes, answering by a simple nod of your head every time he was trying to start a conversation, leaving the room every time he was in.

yeah you were difficult, but satoru always got what he wanted.

“all by yourself uh?”

he startled you a bit, and he could see that you were already looking for a way out by the way your eyes were looking at everything but him.

he moved his body to be at the same height as you, looking at you through his glasses, and then he said your name in a sweet voice, smiling when he saw how easily he got you looking back at him, your face obviously flushed.

“finally paying attention to me mh? it's a shame that you don't look at me often, I really like your eyes, they're pretty.”

and he really meant it, you were telling him everything with those eyes, the way you were constantly daydreaming about him, how you were humping your pillow at night, imagining it was his thigh instead. yeah, very pretty eyes.

“I want to get to know ya.” he said with a smile, and he got closer.

he kept himself from laughing when he saw you taking a few steps back and then he stopped, not wanting to make you panic too much.

“here, gimme your phone.”

you obeyed after barely a few seconds, and it only confirmed what he was already thinking; you were wrapped around his finger even though you were trying to hide it.

“mmh cute wallpaper… alright I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts annnnnd… done!” he finally said, his relaxed smile still on his face, handing you over your phone.

he didn't let go of it immediately, making sure your hands brushed against one another, noticing the way your breath got stuck in your throat.

“call me okay?”

one month passed by and you never called, or even texted. gojo felt frustration for the first time in his life, and because of that he was rougher than usual when he was fucking a cheerleader, his thoughts always coming back to you, and the way you were still ignoring him even though you were fucking yourself with your fingers every night while thinking about him. he was starting to get tired of his own game, but still, he wasn't planning on giving up. and so when he saw you standing in the kitchen during that halloween party, a devilish grin appeared on his pale face...

it's already too late when you spot him across the room, his blue eyes are on you. you can barely think of an escape that he's already in front of you, wearing a black tuxedo, a white collar wrapped around his neck and long white victorian sleeves hugging his arms, and making the rings on his fingers look elegant.

“you didn't call me.“ gojo whispers against your ear, his long arms trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out, your eyes try to escape his teasing gaze as you're sure he can see every little detail on your face by standing so close.

“I thought… I thought you weren't serious when you gave me your number.”

he chuckles, noticing how you're even more embarrassed to look him in the eyes when he hasn't his glasses on.

“I like your costume, it suits your body.”

you feel your skin grows hot, his voice so soft and intimate, his eyes trailing on your body from up and down. it feels like you're alone in the whole house with only him. and your heart is racing with fear and anticipation, as you bring your thighs together. gojo notices it, placing his knee between them before you can fully close them, making you gasp.

“so tell me something baby…” he starts speaking in a honeyed voice, his lips coming closer to your ear.

you blink at the nickname, his body weighting a little more on your own, your back uncomfortably pressed against the kitchen counter as your body slowly bent to accommodate to the awkward position.

“are you scared of me or something?”

a nervous laugh comes out of your mouth, turning your head to escape from his warm gaze.

“I'm not scared of you.”

he can tell you're sincere, but it only makes him want to know more.

“then why are you avoiding me all the time uh?”

he tilts his head to the side, eyes burning with curiosity and his teeth flashing at you when you finally look back at him.

“i'm avoiding you because… you're so annoying, and you fuck everyone you know and you're so arrogant, always thinking you're better than anyone else. I don't like you, at all.”

a few seconds of silence pass by while both of you just look at eachother, until a smirk slowly appears on gojo's face.

“I didn't know you were so mean.” he laughed. “but if you hate me so much why aren't you pushing me away right now?” his sultry voice keeps sliding on you like honey, his mouth so close to your skin, breath fanning over your neck.

he's right, and he knows it, smiling even wider when he sees you looking at the ground in defeat.

“that's what I thought.” he smiles, one of his hand sliding along the side of your jaw, the sudden touch making your heart skips a beat.

his pale hand looks good on your skin, you can feel his fingers squeezing lightly your throat and the atmosphere becomes more tense than before, he still has this grin, like he knows everything about you, especially how much you want him to touch you more.

you're a few seconds away from giving up, your body almost falling on the counter to let gojo fully rest on you. somehow his smirk grows wider when he sees you closing your eyes. you let out a little whine when you feel him pressing all of his body weight against you.

“that was a sweet sound baby, mind if you make some more for me?”

despite shaking your head no, you pressed your body against him, hungry for more, finding a new pleasure in being the center of his attention. his slender fingers find their way to squeeze your chest, drawing another whine out of your mouth.

“more…” he orders, the sound of his voice muffled against your skin.

you try to close your lips, in a poor attempt not to give in so easily, but your legs turn to jelly as soon as he puts his soft lips on your neck. one of your hands flew through his white hair as you gasped at this new sensation.

his hot tongue tracing kisses along your neck, he grabbed your hips, bringing you even closer, letting you feel his boner. you feel dirty, intoxicated, but the heat coming out of his body is addictive. you let out another sound and your fingers are now grabbing his shirt in a needy way, trying to get him even closer to you. you want more. you need more.

you suddenly open your eyes when you feel his warmth vanish from your trembling body. you watch him walk away in disbelief while he's wearing a wicked smile on his face.

“I think my friends are waiting for me… it was fun, you should call me later okay?” he winked at you before exiting the room without letting you have any time to react.

you're left here, breathless, blood pumping into your veins, eyes clouded with desire, a pool of arousal between your legs. your hands clench into fists, of course he did it on purpose.

your eyes are fixated on your phone as breathless sighs keep coming out of your mouth.

"fuck!" you let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back into the soft pillows.

your fingers are still trying to reach that spongy spot inside you, you arch your back, lifting your hips in the air, hoping it will allow your fingers to touch deeper parts. but you're left unsatisfied again, your legs twitching in frustration. your head hit your pillow and your eyes go back to your phone.

"he would fuck me right." you mumble to yourself.

part two

jjk masterlist

a lovely reminder that reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ♡

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru smut

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

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Pink Scarf - PART 13 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Spanking. Dom!Elvis and dom/sub dynamics. Rough sex. ANGST. Panic attack (sort of?). Jealousy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 5,073

A/N: Woo baby, here we go again, ya'll! I know some of y'all were feeling lots of things after Part 12, so here's the hopefully-interesting conclusion to that particular encounter. But be warned, Reader and Elvis are very much still going through it with a lot of big emotions and reactions to those emotions.

(Also, the convo about the moon is real *sob*, though of course not to our reader originally.)

You will also notice the addition of the Pink Scarf Series Masterlist! I've pinned it as the top post on my page as well as changed it at the top of all the chapter parts. This will hopefully help end the confusing navigation issues that people were running into. I'm sorry it took so long. I will likely add some fun post links for the playlist and photos from the different eras referenced in different parts for funsies at some point!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to Elvis Twitter, who stumbled into the Pink Scarf vortex and are now with us in the chokehold of '69 Pink Scarf Era Elvis and are supporting and sharing this lil' fic over there--I see you and appreciate you! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

Elvis rises from the velvet couch. He looks incredible, powerful, his tan face flushed, those electric blue irises blown black with rage and lust, a combination that sends fear and excitement like a bolt of lightning down your spine.

Your chest begins to heave as he undoes his belt. He is staring daggers into you as he does so. Jaw clenching, those pouty lips in a stern line, he unzips his fly, letting his tailored pants fall down over his narrow hips. Even though you know you can stop this at any time, the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you pushed him too far indeed, and he is not going to go easy on you, and a part of you is glad for it. You look up at him, eyes wide.

“Open that dirty lil’ mouth for me, y/n,” he orders, one hand pumping his dick. Precum already glistens on the tip, and the way he says your name feels like an admonishment. Your legs go weak at the implication of what he is commanding.

You obey, mouth dropping open, and he guides himself in. Your eyes roll back at the salty taste of him as he fills you.

“No, no, baby, you look at me while I punish you. Gotta see that you’re learnin’ your lesson,” Elvis says, grabbing your hair and pulling up, forcing your eyes to open.

His words have more wetness pooling in your core and at this rate, you’re worried you’ll drip on the expensive, lush couch. You look up and Elvis looks positively godlike and gorgeous looming over you, his mouth popping open and eyes wild with desire as you widen your tongue over the bottom of his cock. You start to bring your hands up to fondle him, but he slaps them away, his eyes smoldering.

“No, you take what I give you,” he growls, then without warning, plunges deep, hitting the back of your throat.

Unprepared, you sputter and gag around his hot length, but he holds you still, his hand strong at the back of your hair. He moans and pushes deeper, and you begin to panic a little, tears stinging your eyes.

“Look at me.” You look up. “Next time you want to use this mouth on anyone else, I want you to think of my cock deep in your throat, just like this,” Elvis whispers vehemently. “I want you to remember that mine’s the only cock you should ever even think about choking on.” He pushes a little deeper for emphasis. You moan, the vibrations making him shudder. He pulls out, strings of your saliva clinging to his dick, and you can breathe again. You take in deep breaths because something tells you this is not over and that thought has your thighs quivering with need.

“Is that clear, lil’ girl?” he says, fingers wrapping in your hair and pulling tightly. He looks down at you like he could eat you alive, drunk with power.

“Yes, Daddy,” you concede.

“Gonna be good for me and learn your lesson?” he says, tapping his swollen head on your lips. You open wide and look up at him again through wet lashes, relishing in the way he makes you feel so small yet also like you’re the only other person in the world.

“There’s my good lil’ girl, so hungry for me,” he praises.

His words have you rubbing your thighs together, desperate for friction, as he pushes into you again. You are more prepared this time, but Elvis is still longer than you’re used to, so you gag around him. He groans low and long, those long dark lashes of his fluttering as his eyes drift closed, as though he is composing himself to continue. When he opens his eyes again, the lust in them is so palpable that it sends a searing heat rolling over you, spreading through your body like wildfire. He begins fucking your face unrelentingly, holding your head fast as he plows in so deep that the hairs at his base tickle your lips. He pulls out enough to let you breathe and checks in with you nonverbally before disciplining you again, his length sliding down your throat, filling you in a way you never imagined possible.

“Relax that throat, honey,” Elvis encourages you. “Doin’ so good, baby, taking your punishment,” he murmurs, looking down at you, eyes inebriated with you as he fucks your mouth.

You know you are a mess, tears streaming down your face, covered in spit, with absolutely obscene sounds coming from your mouth as he uses you in a way that no man has before. But you don’t care because all of Elvis Presley’s attention is on you, you are making him feel good, his dick is down your throat, and god, that makes you want to come undone.

His pace quickens and you feel him tense all over, his legs beginning to shudder, and you know he’s close. His lips tremble and curl as he grits his teeth, those bedroom eyes falling shut as his grip in your hair tightens and stills you.

“You’re gonna hold on to it for me, baby…aw, hell!” he cries out, eyes rolling back, and you feel him pulse, his warm salty cum hitting the back of your throat. You obey, trying not to choke as he fills you up, pumping his frustration and possessiveness into you. Holding his cum in your mouth, you wait patiently as he pulls himself out of you.

He catches himself so he doesn’t collapse on top of you, his gorgeous blues blinking slowly as he comes back down to earth, taking you in. You’ve never seen something so sexy in your life as seeing him come apart.

“Open your mouth,” Elvis commands, looking at you intensely and once seeing the pool of his desire there, he nods approvingly. “Swallow,” he orders, tapping your chin closed with his index finger, and you do, making a show of gulping it down. He grabs your chin, those still wounded eyes trapping you in their gaze. “You ain’t never gonna spit me out, are ya, baby?”

You know he’s referring to what you said you did with Jack. He’s still not happy about it, his voice both authoritative and hurt.

“No, Daddy,” you respond. You don’t want anyone but Elvis ever again, if you can possibly help it, though you don’t know how realistic that is. But you don’t want to think about that now.

He grunts and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. The heated way he looks at you lets you know he’s not done with you yet.

“Such a good lil’ girl for Daddy,” he praises, “Takin’ your lessons so well.” He runs his fingers through your hair, then effortlessly pulls you up to standing. You are so close to him, but not touching, reminding you of that moment a mere week ago in the bar the night of the opening of his show. How you had practically rolled up his body, the teasing tension between you thick but much more innocent than it is now. Now, his assertive essence envelops you to the point of dizziness, your physical need for him slick between your thighs and the rest of you needing him on a level you’ve never needed from anyone.

Elvis looks down at you, eyes heavy but alert, still brimming with passion but unwavering. You bring your hand to his chest, but he catches your wrist before you can touch him with a tsk and a shake of his head. You cannot help but pout, your need growing exponentially the more he denies you.

Instead, Elvis sits on the sofa, kicking off his pants, spread wide for you to see his half-hard dick between his lean, toned thighs. Tilting his chin down and looking up at you in that famously cocky and alluring way of his, he demands, “Take of your dress.”

You blink for a moment, then realizing he wants a bit of a show, you turn and unzip slowly, your dress falling into a puddle at your feet. Your panties are already tangled there, from when he took his hand to your backside, and you step out of them, turning towards him in only your bra.

He just looks up at you through those classic rebellious but boyish eyes, reminding you of a time long ago. You can’t help but see the petulant young man in him, the one that parents hated and teenagers fell over, as he lifts his hand to signal that he wants you completely naked for him. You shiver at the sudden thought that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had him like this a long, long time ago. That he could’ve taken you in that booth in the diner or on the lawn at his house in the cover of darkness, his young and less experienced hands petting you, luscious lips soft on yours, making you fall apart for him in more innocent ways.

And out of everything that has occurred in the last hour, that is the thought that really has you feeling hot all over, the one that brings you close to shame and the blatant realization that maybe you two were headed here all along. That these games you’ve been playing didn’t start a week ago, but nearly 14 years ago. That as much as you came to love Jack, it might’ve been Elvis who you truly fell for first.

It nearly knocks the breath from you as you remove the last bit of clothing from your body, exposing yourself completely for this mesmerizing man who has the masses in the palm of his hand, who has you in the palm of his hand. He beckons you to him wordlessly; he doesn’t need words, and you go to him as if hypnotized.

You think you knew subconsciously then what you know consciously now—Elvis Presley cannot be contained. He is beyond any other man in that he belongs to both everyone and no one. Trying to tie him down would be like keeping an eagle from flight. Somehow you sensed that in 1955 and let him go before you could even dream to tie him down. And now, more than anything, you want to fly with him.

He stops you as you walk in between his legs, looking over you with controlled hunger. His fingers dance up your thigh, teasing up to the place you need him the most. You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips as his fingers flit over your mound.

Head tilted to the side, Elvis speaks again, his voice soft but commanding, “Are you gonna be a good lil’ girl for Daddy, or are you gonna be a brat?”

You ponder that for a second, because honestly both options are tantalizing, so you try to figure out what he wants. Does he want you to submit or to fight him?

Finally, you decide. “I’m gonna be a good girl, Daddy.”

That seems to be the right answer. His lip curls up in a half-smile. With that, he runs a long finger ever so gently between your legs, barely touching your folds. You mewl at the sensation, body shuddering, desperate for more.

“Christ, baby, you’re soaking and I ain’t hardly touched you,” he smirks, looking at your wetness on his fingertip.

You wiggle a little, needing friction, something, anything. He stills your hips and shakes his head. “Uh uh, I thought you said you’re gonna be a good girl. Good girls ask nicely,” he grins.

“Please, please touch me, Daddy,” you plead breathlessly.

He nods, lust filling his eyes, as he deliberately runs two fingers back and forth through your sopping folds before circling over your clit. The stimulation after so long has you moaning, knees weak, nearly falling over into him. Your hips start to rock of their own accord, but his hand stops again and you whine.

“No, tell me exactly what you want, baby,” he coos, eyes heavy lidded but alert.

“I…please…Daddy, I want your fingers inside me,” you whisper, begging. You barely recognize the breathy sound coming from your lips.

“Like this?” he asks, his left eyebrow shooting up as he slowly slips two digits into your pussy.

You groan and nod frantically, but once inside, he does not move them. Frustrated, you buck on his hand.

“Back to being a brat, huh?” he says in such a way that you think he’s glad for it. He spanks your ass, causing you to hiss in surprise, squirming and clenching around his fingers. “So goddamn hungry for it, huh? Didn’t you learn your lesson, baby girl?” His voice is husky and dark again, and you want him so badly it hurts. You’ve had enough of his teasing.

“I guess I fucking didn’t, Daddy,” you say belligerently, impatiently, with as much sass as possible. Being good isn’t getting you anywhere. No, you want him over the edge.

In one quick move he throws you face down onto the sofa. “Guess I’m gonna have to wreck this pretty little cunt of yours then, won’t I, baby girl?” Elvis snarls in your ear, his hand at your neck.

It’s exactly what you want. What you need.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you gasp into the couch cushion, the soft velvet creasing into your cheek, and you hear him groan as though helpless to contain it.

With a loud smack, he hits your ass again and before you can recover from the sting, he’s got his dick between your legs. He’s already hard again (the man’s stamina is unmatched), which you are grateful for as he finally plunges into your pussy, filling you completely.

You cry out in pleasure as Elvis begins fucking the hell out of you, seemingly taking out every frustration and insecurity he has on you in the best of ways. He yanks up your hips, drilling into you relentlessly, filling you, hitting every spot of satisfaction along the way with his length. Your eyes roll back as you clutch at the velvet fabric under your palms. The squelching between your thighs is punctuated by his thrusts and grunts and growls.

Elvis, needing more of you, pulls out and flips you over. His eyes are wild, too wild perhaps, but it doesn’t matter. Those soft pliant lips of his crash into yours frantically before dragging down your neck, teeth biting at your collarbone. You wrap around him, nails digging into his back, scratching into his scalp as those lips scorch into your chest, suckling welts into your breasts, claiming you as his.

When he enters you again, it’s as though he’s trying to consume you from the inside out. Like he wants every part of you at the same time. His beautiful face rockets from one emotion to another—possessive anger to boyish insecurity to passionate lust to unbridled fear—you can’t keep up. You are along for the glorious ride.

Your pleasure builds but it’s not just chasing the high that has you flying above the clouds. It’s that in this moment, he’s yours, all yours, and there is no doubt that you are his. You don’t care about Jack or anything else. It’s just him. It’s all Elvis.

The closer you come to unraveling the more frenetic he becomes. It’s as though everything is being stripped away, leaving him vulnerable and untethered, so he clings to you. This larger-than-life man clings to you and all you want is to get lost in him. But he won’t let you.

“I’m…close…” you stutter breathlessly, needing the release he’s promising, needing him to shoot you far up into the inky black of the night sky.

“Y/n,” he pants, “baby, look at me.”

You stare up into his endless blues.

“Are you mine?” The question is not possessive, or part of the game, or even leading. It’s so completely honest and innocent you almost forget what you’re doing, the cliff you are headed for.

You don’t even have to think about it, it just comes out. “Yes, Elvis, I’m yours.”

And then your climax hits hard, so hard you’re almost blinded, but the way he’s intimately staring into your eyes keeps you grounded as he rides you through it. Your body tenses and then it lets go, and you can barely breathe because everything you’ve been holding in for the last week seems to release from you all at once, in an overwhelming flood of sensation and emotion.

Elvis is so intensely focused on you that you feel as though you might drown in him, drown in all these feelings. Everything seems to collide within you all at once and suddenly you’re crying as you come down, sobbing as your body gives way under the pressure.

“Baby? Oh, god, did I hurt you, baby?” he asks desperately, sounding frightened.

You shake your head, your shaking hand coming up to cover your face. “No…no, it’s…not…that,” you choke out between sobs.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Satnin,” he whispers in your ear, rolling off you and pulling you into his arms.

Satnin…

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself truly fall apart without trying to cover it up to make someone else comfortable or to push it down and ignore it. You let it overtake you completely, letting yourself be carried away on the flood of uncertainty, of grief over your failed marriage, your inability to conceive, and the feeling that you’ve wasted so much time on all of it. Your fears about opening your heart up again just to be hurt once more also surface, and with them your love, your love for Elvis which has been growing since the day you met, the love you are finally admitting to yourself, which is absolutely terrifying to you because what if it means that everything else was a lie? Was your life with Jack born from a life you knew you couldn’t have with Elvis? And perhaps you are doomed to love yet another man who cannot give you his whole heart?

And then Elvis goes and looks at you like that and asks you if you are his, and of course you are, of course, of course, is all you can think, over and over. But you can’t allow yourself to get lost in another man, especially not this man, but you feel like you have no control. You are being swept away by Elvis, regardless of logic.

You don’t know how long you weep for, wrapped in Elvis’ arms as he pets you and murmurs in your ear, “Satnin, breathe. Breathe, baby.”

You feel like the world is collapsing in on itself, but you anchor yourself to the sound of his voice, that crooning, distinctly Elvis voice, and the feel of his arms around you and you breathe. In and out. In and out.

“That’s it, mama,” he coos, still holding you tightly. “You just get it all out. I’m here.”

He’s here.

That nearly makes you weep all over again, but you continue to breathe through it, through your panic and your doubt until you begin to relax.

Finally, you are able to look at him again, your body feeling strangely light and floaty. Elvis looks at you with a mixture of concern, fear, and protectiveness, trying to comprehend what is happening, but waiting to take your lead rather than asking himself.

“I…I’m sorry. That was…overwhelming,” you breathe out, wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” he asks quietly, brow furrowed.

“No, it wasn’t that, that part felt good…it was more like the physical release somehow broke through a dam inside me and sent this flood of emotion through me,” you try to explain, trying to make sense and reassure him at the same time.

He nods and waits for you to continue.

“I…I’m going through some stuff, baby,” you stutter out, “and I’m rethinking a lot of my life and what’s led up to this, us. My marriage is in shambles, and I feel caught up in this whirlpool of emotions that I don’t know how to piece through.” Your voice wavers and you clutch at him, afraid to spin out again. You can’t tell him more than that, not yet, even though you know he is wondering.

Elvis smooths your hair, resting his warm palm against your cheek, his rings cool against the burning of your skin. You sense that he has things he wants to say, you can practically see his thoughts churning, but he holds them back, not wanting to overwhelm you with them. And for that you are grateful.

“Will you come with me?” he finally says, getting up, putting on a robe, and holding out his hand for you. Confused, you take his hand, glad for it, as you are a little dizzy and unsteady on your feet. He holds out another robe for you, wrapping it around you gently, and then pulls you with him.

He opens a door you’ve never seen, one that blended so seamlessly into the wall, you didn’t know it was even there. He takes you up the dark staircase, your thoughts now running with curiosity, and then he opens another door at the top. It reveals a rooftop patio, clad with lounging chairs and all.

You gasp at the sight of the Las Vegas skyline twinkling with neon lights against the darkness of the desert night sky. You are so far up, you feel like you could touch the moon, and it makes you feel more lightheaded than you already are. You clutch at Elvis’ hand, and sensing your awe, he brings you to one of the lounge chairs and encourages you to lie back. He pulls another right up against yours and lies next to you.

There is silence for a moment as you both take in the night sky. The light pollution makes it hard to see all the stars, but some are still there, twinkling in the infinite blackness.

“Keep your eyes on the moon, y/n,” he says quietly. “Do you remember?”

And suddenly, you do.

Memphis 1956

It’s a hot and sultry early July night, and you are glad for the new swimming pool here at Elvis’ house on Audubon Drive. Your swimsuit sticks damply to your skin, despite having been out of the pool for a while, causing you to practically peel yourself off the lawn chair you’ve been sitting in. You managed to finish yet another glass of sweet tea as you watch Elvis, Jack, and Elvis’ relations mess around in the pool, but as twilight turns into night, you feel like you need a moment away from the roughhousing of the boys and the tittering of the girls.

You grab your towel and find a quiet spot on the lawn, enough away from the fray that you can breathe, but not in view of the fans camped out in front of Elvis’ house, wishing and begging for a glimpse of their new idol.

It’s mind boggling how quickly he’s gone from hometown celebrity to near superstardom in a year. This is his first real stay at the new home he was able to buy for his parents in this upper crest Memphis neighborhood—a far cry from the projects he grew up in. You are so happy for him, but he has been going nearly nonstop since the turn of the year. In fact, this is his first vacation from the insanity of touring and television appearances and recording sessions since everything blew up for him.

As you lay down on the towel, head looking up to the stars, you think of just how much has changed in the last year. God, a year ago, you thought you’d be engaged to Ted. That thought makes you scrunch up your nose. And now, well, now there was Jack, who was quickly becoming much more than just a friend. And, of course there was Elvis, your handsome friend-turned-celebrity, playing sold out shows that ended in riots with the girls tearing off his clothes and causing an uproar amongst parents everywhere with his jiggling on national television. He was even starting his movie career out in Hollywood next month.

It was all rather overwhelming. It was a wonder he hadn’t forgotten you all back home, but while he had definitely changed in some ways, fame had not changed his unwavering love for his family or his friends.

Suddenly, water rains down on you from above as a tall and very wet-from-the-pool Elvis looms over you, bending down and shaking his wet hair over your face to get your attention.

“Elvis!” you squeal, throwing your hands up to protect your face, “Ew! Stop!”

He laughs that boisterous laugh of his, pleased with himself. “What ya doin’ all the way over here by your lonesome, doll?” he asks, plopping his wet body next to you on your towel. He’s close enough that the cool wet of his arm brushes up against yours as he leans on his side and looks down at you, those eyes of his sparking in the dark. “Ain’t you havin’ fun?” he asks with concern and honesty, with another shake of his head.

You laugh and wipe the droplets off your face, knowing that making a deal of it will just spurn him on and likely get you thrown in the pool. “Yes, I’m having fun. I just needed a moment away from the fray,” you say, looking up at him.

Elvis eyes wander over you curiously, quietly, and suddenly you feel very exposed in your two-piece bathing suit, lying here alone in the dark with this beautiful yet goofy young man hovering so close. Those eyes of his are so soulful sometimes, so watchful, like he’s taking in every little thing around him, and right now that is you. A warm flush comes over you and you are glad for the darkness.

You want to speak to break the silence, but you can’t think of anything to say, your mouth suddenly full of cotton. While you and Jack have started dating and you are quickly becoming committed to that, you feel very aware of why so many young women are literally throwing themselves at Elvis, why he seems to have a girlfriend in every county from here to Texas. Your heart flutters. You want to shake the thought and the feeling away, but as his too-long wet hair falls over his forehead and his pretty baby face looks down at you, you feel nearly entranced.

Finally, he seems to have gotten whatever he was looking for by staring at you and flings himself on his back with a loud sigh. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding and scold yourself for thinking about Elvis in any more than a friendly manner. He is still close to you though, the side of his damp body nearly pressed against yours, and for a moment, you feel a shiver of gooseflesh rise on your skin in response.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, almost startling you, “the needin’ to ‘get away from the fray’ thing. I feel like I’ve been in the fray so constantly now that I’ve forgotten what bein’ out of it feels like.”

You are both quiet for a moment, just staring up at the stars. It’s not uncomfortable, the silence, but to you, it feels charged somehow. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Regardless, your heart still flutters in your chest.

“What a beautiful night,” he breathes out next to you.

“Yes, it is,” you say quietly, keeping your eyes to the stars.

“Keep your eyes on the moon, y/n,” he says, almost dreamily.

You look over at him, confused.

“Seriously, baby, keep your eyes on the moon, and you’ll see a glowing blue ring appear,” Elvis urges you.

“Okay,” you say incredulously, turning your head back to the sky. Silently, you both stare at the glowing orb hovering above you for what seems like minutes. You wonder if he’s lost his mind a little, or if he’s playing one of his tricks, but then you see it—a bright blue ring, pulsing with the beat of your heart. You gasp.

“Do ya see it? Now, let yourself totally relax, and just focus on the space between the moon and the stars,” he says, his voice almost hypnotizing. “Don’t think about anythin’, just let yourself float. If you can relax enough, you can go right up there with them.”

So you do. You lie there and let yourself float up between the moon and the stars. You feel increasingly strange but also free and unchained from the constant thoughts that usually race through your mind at any one moment. You are enthralled by the night sky, flying high.

“How long have you been doing this?” you whisper in the darkness.

“Since I was a little boy,” Elvis whispers back, eyes still on the moon.

You look over at him, his face full of an innocent wonder. Then, he turns his face to yours, so close in the darkness that you think you can feel his warm breath on your face. “Do you believe me, y/n?”

You nod. With Elvis, anything seems possible.

“I promise you, y/n, I’m serious. People think you’re crazy if you talk about things they don’t understand,” he says, offendedly, as though he has very real wounds from that happening before.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Elvis. I see it. I feel it,” you say, in wonder. In wonder not just at the night sky and your ability to float to the moon, but at the boy lying next to you, the one who is so much deeper than he appears.

He nods, giving you a vulnerable yet piercing look that shakes you. Then his cool hand grabs yours, as if anchoring the two of you together as you both turn back to float into the night sky.

“I remember,” you whisper, answering his question, looking into up into the same sky as before. It is years older and from a different vantage point but nearly unchanged in its ancient, endless beauty.

“Just relax and float, Satnin. Just you and me and the moon and the stars,” he whispers. Then he winds his fingers through yours, anchoring you together and you breathe. You try to let go of it all and just be, knowing that Elvis won’t let you float aimlessly away, lost in the sky forever.

Just you and me and the moon and the stars.

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teaberrii · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: The Friendship Date (My Worst Enemy is a Cat)

Human by day. Cat by night. That’s how Scaramouche lived until you came back into his life.

Scaramouche/You

Notes: Cross-posted on Ao3. If you want me to add you to the tag list, visit the tag list post for the blog. If your user is not on the tag list, you won't be notified.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Why couldn't he take his eyes off you? You were just dressed in a different outfit. That's it.

Maybe it was the high-waisted plaid pants. Maybe it was the tank top that revealed a little of your midriff when you lifted your arms. Maybe it was the baseball cap… that was the same as his.

Whatever it was, Scaramouche couldn't take his eyes off you, and he hated himself for it. You looked over at him, and he suddenly didn't know where to look.

“Time to board the bus!”

As everyone formed a line, you lowered your hat and peeked at Scaramouche standing in the line next to yours. He was talking with a friend, but you noticed that you were wearing the same baseball cap as him. It was also the first time you saw him wearing light colours and something other than his school uniform. It was silly, but you wished you could see it more often.

When he sees you wearing a high-waisted black skirt and a dark red shirt that reveals your shoulders. Scaramouche almost lost it. Where are all these feelings coming from? It's just an outfit, for goodness sake. But it's so flattering on you that he's forced to look away, or you'd see him blushing.

“Sorry. Did you wait long?” you ask.

Scaramouche gathers his emotions and opens the passenger door for you. "It doesn't matter. Get in." He feels you staring at him, and it's starting to make him anxious. Then, he hears you chuckle softly. Finally, he forces himself to look at you. "What's so funny?"

“You’re acting like this is your first date or something.” You smile. “Oh, sorry, I mean friendship date.”

Well, you’re half right. While he’s been on dates before, he never bothered putting in much effort. "Because I'm taking this seriously." Whoa. Hold up. Did your heart just flutter? Of course, it didn't help that he said it with a straight face. "...Are you going to get in?" You look away and get into his car.

On the road, Scaramouche glances at you and asks, “...How was your time abroad?”

You have a lot of answers to that, all of which require a story. And, right now, you don’t feel comfortable sharing. “It was fine,” you finally answer. Though, it's a lie. But he doesn't have to know that. You glance at him. “What about you? Didn’t you get into the best university in the country?”

Scaramouche smiles. “Jealous?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, definitely.” Then, he hears you mutter how childish he is.

Scaramouche slowly brings the car to a stop at a red light. “It was fine. A very typical university experience.”

“Did you finally let loose?” you ask, half-jokingly. “You were always so uptight.”

“I should be asking you that question. Away on your own… I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned into a different person.”

You look at him. “Well, did I?”

Scaramouche looks away from you. Of course, you're different. But, somehow, his feelings never changed. Because while you may have matured in your personality and physical appearance, he still sees you as the same girl he fell in love with so many years ago.

Before picking up speed, the car slowly inches forward. Then, Scaramouche says, "Do you want me to be honest?"

Oh, great. He'll probably tell you how you gained weight, your face looks puffy, or something that takes a jab at your intelligence, and you're just not here for it.

"Actually, I'd rather not hear it." Scaramouche glances at you. Are you sure? Well, fine. The compliments can come later. "Hey, you didn't answer my question."

“What? Are you curious if I turned into a frat boy who parties all day?”

You look at him up and down. “If you did, you cleaned up well.”

"Double major. Honours program. Part of the debate club who went to nationals and the student union vice president for two years."

Scaramouche is expecting you to counter with your own accomplishments. Knowing you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d outdone him. So, your initial silence takes him a little by surprise.

Finally, you ask, "Should I congratulate you?"

He senses the heavy sarcasm. So, just to play around a little, Scaramouche asks, “What about a kiss on the cheek?” Wait. What did he just say? He smirks. “Why are you so surprised? A kiss on the cheek can mean many things. Congratulating someone, for example.”

You scoff. “Why don't I give you a gold star instead?”

“It’s also a gesture to indicate friendship. And… we are friends now, aren’t we? Starting today.”

"We've always been friends." The words were out before you could stop them. You want to kick yourself when you see the look on his face.

“Really? Well, that’s news to me! Because… if I remember correctly, you said I was your worst enemy at one point.”

“We’re not friends,” you said flatly.

“Ouch.” Scaramouche put a hand over his heart. Then, he stopped walking. “If we’re not friends, why should I bother walking you home?” For a smart girl, you sure were dense. He sighed and hurried to catch up with you. There was no way he would leave you alone, especially when it was late. He'd bumped into you in the school library, and both of you were the last to leave. " ...Hey, what do you think of me?”

The question took you off guard. “Uh, why are you asking?”

Scaramouche put his hands behind his head. “Just curious. I mean… I am popular with the girls.”

You give him a deadpan look. “Are you expecting me to stroke your ego? You can go find someone else for that.”

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist. You glared at him. “Just answer my question.”

Your silence was eating him alive. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest until you said, “You’re a little annoying. Too narcissistic and egotistic. In other words, you have all the qualities of someone I hate.” Scaramouche’s jaw almost dropped.

“I did not say you were my worst enemy,” you say.

"You know, maybe I should think of that as an accomplishment." He smirks. "It's not every day you get that kind of title." You roll your eyes. "But now you say that we've always been friends."

“...Drop it.”

You have no idea if he ever considered you as a friend. But the truth is, you always had since the day you met him. He was arguably fun to be around if, most of the time, all you did was bicker with him. You couldn't imagine your life being as fun as it was without him. Maybe you should've stuck around for university. Then, maybe, you wouldn't be so broken.

You and Scaramouche arrive at the aquarium just in time for lunch. As soon as you enter, your stomach growls, and you blush out of embarrassment. “Hungry?” You quickly look to your left and see Scaramouche smiling.

“A bit,” you mutter.

Then, he takes your hand and leads you to a restaurant nearby. When the waiter greets you and checks around for a free table, you glance at your hand still in his. Then, slowly, you pull your hand away and look up at him. "I can just grab something from—"

"I want to eat with you." How he's looking at you makes you forget your surroundings. That is until the waiter speaks up and ushers you and Scaramouche to an empty table for two. Once you open the menu, he asks, "Do you want to share something?" You aren't sure why you imagined sharing a milkshake, and the thought makes you shake your head a little. Scaramouche raises a brow. What are you thinking about? "Do you like calamari?"

“Yeah, sure.”

That dish is the first to arrive. Before you can eat one yourself, Scaramouche has one on his fork and holding it in front of you. “Say ahh.”

When you see his smile, you feel your cheeks grow warm. “What are you doing?”

He looks genuinely confused. "What do you think?" You take the fork from him and eat it yourself. Then, with a deadpan look, he takes his empty fork back.

After lunch, you and Scaramouche enter the exhibits in silence. You try to focus on your surroundings as you walk, but all you feel is his hand occasionally brushing against yours. Is he doing it on purpose?

Scaramouche glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction to his hand on yours. Should he continue teasing you? Or just go in for the kill? Should he just boldly confess?

Do it. Just get it over with! Scaramouche can hear the evil cat's voice inside his head. Grab her and kiss her! DO IT.

No. Just keep giving her hints. She’ll get turned off if you come off too strong. Patience is key. Scaramouche takes a breath. The voices are driving him insane.

“Hey.” Scaramouche looks up and sees you standing in front of a tank. He walks over. “That one looks like you.”

Scaramouche frowns. “Did you really just point to the ugliest fish in the tank?”

“I don’t think it’s ugly. It’s unique-looking.”

That sounds worse. "...Are you implying that I'm"—he does air quotations as he says—"'unique-looking?"

Will you please say something instead of just staring at him? It’s making his heart race with anxiety. Then, you smile. “I said it looks like you because it’s frowning. Like you were back in school”—you pinch his cheek to his surprise—“and even right now.”

As you walk away, Scaramouche sighs and looks at the fish in the tank. “Should I be thanking you?” Then, he follows you. Eventually, you walk into a large, open room. You’re standing in front of a giant tank when Scaramouche walks up beside you. You take out your phone and snap a few photos. “Hey, I found one that looks like you.”

You look at where he’s pointing and see a fish that looks surprised. “Why that one?”

Scaramouche smirks. “That was you when I kept beating you.”

“Hilarious.”

But, before you can walk away, Scaramouche gently grabs your arm and pulls you back. “Let’s take a photo together.”

“Here?”

“Where else?” Then, he awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “...Unless you don’t want to.”

"No, I do." The words were out before you could stop them. You want to kick yourself a second time.

Soon, you and Scaramouche are standing next to each other as someone is about to take your photo. Then, the person looks at you. “Can you stand closer to him?”

You awkwardly move closer. Then, you feel Scaramouche’s hands on your shoulders and hear his voice near your ear. “Relax.”

“Ooh, that one turned out pretty good! Can both of you look at the camera now?”

Once the person leaves, you and Scaramouche look through the photos. But when you see the one where he’s whispering in your ear, you’re surprised at how gentle he’s looking at you. There’s a warmth in his eyes that you’d never seen. Then, you look at yourself and see the genuine surprise on your face.

“See. The fish I told you about looks just like that.”

You turn to him with a deadpan look, not expecting to see him so close. It feels like an eternity that you're staring into his eyes. Then, you see his gaze lower to your lips. He looks back, and he leans closer… and closer…

Your eyes widen when you feel someone bump into you from behind. You quickly turn around and see a young child. He's holding a half-melted ice cream cone. "Sorry," he says. Then, he runs off.

Your heart is racing when you hear the kid's parents apologize to you. You give them a small smile and nod, and they quickly follow after their son. Was Scaramouche about to kiss you? And… were you just going to let it happen?

“Hey.” You look up at him. Scaramouche isn't looking at you as he says, “...We should get going.”

Was he really going to kiss you? He got caught up in the moment. But you didn't stop him or pull away. So… that was a good sign, right? Still, maybe he shouldn't have acted too impulsively. Think, Scaramouche. Think next—

He stops. Then, he looks over his shoulder and sees you holding his hand.

Chapter Six

Tag list: @suoshiii @feverish-dove @126dvtn @one-offmind @sweet-almonds @pooonyo @n8mareee @killuixz @w9vyy @124eve @mxrossweisse @genderfluid-insomniac @goodthingimsam

#genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche fluff #scara x reader #scara x you #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

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finn-m-corvex · 7 months

Text

Jaya Week 2023 Day 4: Promise

I DID IT! I know I'm a day behind and I'm so so sorry, but after what happened yesterday I was just really shaken up and I didn't feel comfortable posting this until the anon was gone. Also, I was so frustrated at being told what I could and couldn't post that I decided to add an additional 1500 words to this out of pure spite (my spite is so much stronger now that I have to reupload this). I originally had a different idea for this day, but after seeing how many people loved the pregnant stuff I did for Day 3, I changed my mind! Hope you guys like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Words: 3.5k

TWs: uhh general stuff that comes with childbirth, blood warning, kinda death warning not really, warning for women in labor, obligatory warning that if anyone doesn't like seeing pregnant women in a positive light do not read

[REUPLOAD!]

“Hi there, little ones,” Jay cooed, feeling up and down Nya’s now very pregnant belly, “you’ve been giving Mama a lot of trouble today, you know that?”

“Jay,” Nya giggled, still not quite used to the feeling of something kicking inside of her, “cut it out. You’re making them excited, and excited means they kick!”

“Is that a bad thing?” but Jay relented, pressing two final kisses to her belly before standing back up and giving her a kiss instead. He was careful about wrapping her up in a hug, very aware of the precious cargo that she was carrying. Nya sighed, relaxing into her Yin’s hold and letting him rock them back and forth.

She listened to his heartbeat with her head on his shoulder; Jay always had a vaguely irregular heart rhythm because of his lightning, and at this point Nya had heard it so much that it sounded like a song one would put on the radio at the end of a long day. Jay rubbed circles into the small of her back, trying to relieve some of the pressure of the weight that her poor back had already been carrying for the better part of seven months.

Things had been quite busy around the monastery since Nya had learned she was pregnant. All of the boys had been doing their damndest to help her out, with Cole being an absolute sweetheart and waiting on her hand and foot when Jay wasn’t there to do it, along with Kai and Lloyd. Lloyd and Kai had also gone through the whole place to babyproof it (carefully checked by Pixal), and Zane had downloaded as much knowledge about anything to do with parenting ast he could. Pixal, when she wasn’t trying to make sure the others weren’t burning the house down with their efforts, was carefully designing toys and devices and baby monitors and other very fancy technology that Nya’s pregnancy-addled brain couldn’t wrap itself around. She would do her best to find out what everything did after she gave birth.

But the real star of the show had been Jay, as per usual. He had been running himself ragged transforming what had been his old room into the perfect nursery, building cribs completely from scratch and painting the whole thing a very light shade of blue. Nya had been a little concerned when she stepped in one day to find him about to swing a sledgehammer into the wall, but Jay had explained that it was only to make space for a window so the babies could have some natural light.

Nya didn’t know why she was so attracted to this silly man until she saw him take the first swing, muscles rippling, and then everything made perfect sense.

He had only built one crib at first, because that had been all they were expecting. Imagine their surprise when the ultrasound at their next appointment revealed that they were having TWINS!

Jay had to make the call to everyone else while Nya held onto his arm, sobbing her heart out onto the sleeve of his jacket. She was mortified when she finally got ahold of herself, but Jay had just kissed the top of her head and told her that she could keep crying if she needed to.

She did. For a long time afterwards.

The sound of Jay humming brought her back into the present, and Nya let her swollen feet rest on top of his so he could start walking them around the room in a strange waltz. Jay pressed a tender kiss to the side of her head, whispering in her ear, “everything okay, love?”

Was everything okay? They were scheduled to head into the hospital tomorrow for a c-section; it was the safest option and Nya wanted the absolute best for her little ones. She and Jay had elected to keep their genders secret until they had been born, but they already had names picked out and ready for whatever they turned out to be. In all honesty, the two were probably as prepared as new parents could be, and yet Nya still felt a little uneasy.

“I’m worried,” she confessed, and Jay didn’t say anything for a minute. His hands started tracing her spine, going up and down in a soothing pattern.

“Yeah, I am too,” he said, “but it’s going to be okay.”

Nya’s arms tightened around his waist. “Do you think we’re ready?”

“I don’t think anyone can ever be ready for something like this. But I promise you, Nya, that you’re going to be a great mom. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

She opened her mouth to respond, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, when a sharp pain rolled through her gut. Nya groaned, bending over as much as she could in his hold. Ignoring Jay’s cry of alarm, she cried out, feeling her muscles contract to a pain level high enough to make her vision white out.

“What’s wrong?” Jay asked urgently, the only thing keeping her standing, “Nya, what’s wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

Her nails dug into his shirt, and both of them stilled when there was a sound of something plopping onto the floor with a wet splat.

Oh First Master, she was in labor.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Jay kept repeating, gently lowering her to the floor. Nya sobbed, clutching onto the front of his shirt as her stomach felt like it was going to turn itself inside out. Jay was panicking. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you down the stairs!”

“Ah! Get Cole!” Nya spit out, pushing him away. “Get Cole!”

Jay ran out of the room, yelling his best friend’s name as he went. Pixal popped her head in after he ran out, immediately crouching next to her and giving the water ninja her hand. Nya squeezed it tightly with another cry of pain.

Pixal brushed the hair out of her face. “Don’t worry, Nya, Cole is on his way. We’re getting you to the hospital.”

“I’m here!” Cole yelled, running into the room with Jay right on his heels. Pixal showed him how to pick Nya up, and he hoisted her into the air with barely any effort. Jay had been making himself useful and clearing the path out of the monastery, now trotting alongside the earth ninja as he ran through the building as carefully as he could.

“You have to be twice as careful, Cole!” Jay was warning, and Nya could’ve slapped him silly. “Those are my kids you’re handling!”

“I know, Jay!”

“Boys!” Nya said harshly, digging her fingers into Cole’s shoulder as another contraction overtook her. “Can you shut the hell up and get me out of here?!”

“Yes ma’am.” They both quickly said, and Nya had barely any time to feel the satisfaction between the muscle spasms.

Thankfully, Pixal had a good head on her shoulders, pre-preparing a vehicle to get Nya to the hospital as fast as possible. Going down the monastery stairs was a special kind of hell for the water ninja, and she was very close to passing out from the contraction pains when Cole finally put her in the front seat.

It was only a couple hours later when Nya was laying in one of the hospital beds, strangling the life out of Jay’s hand; she could see the tips of his fingers turning black and blue from her grip cutting off his blood flow. He didn’t complain though, instead taking his other hand and smoothing her hair out of her sweaty face.

“I am going to put a knife through your eye for doing this to me,” Nya seethed, tears running down her face. “Jay Edward Walker, you will be lucky to walk out of this room alive!”

“Absolutely, whatever you say, dear,” Jay said calmly, cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re okay, Nya, you’re okay.”

He watched as the doctor came into the room with a couple nurses, walking right up to the foot of the bed where his Yang was exposed. The doctor gave them both a kind smile, and Jay did his best to give him the same thing.

Snapping on his gloves, the doctor took a look, putting on a serious expression. “Alright, miss, you’re pretty far along already so a good few pushes should be all that’s needed to get the first baby out. We can reassess the need for surgery after the first birth-”

“I am NOT having surgery after this!” Nya yelled. “Where the hell is my epidural?!”

“Did the nurse not give you any?” the doctor asked, and Nya could’ve popped a blood vessel.

“No!”

“We’ll get you some soon, sweetie,” one of the nurses said in a sickly sweet voice, and Nya could feel the water pressure building in the pipes as her anger rose. She wordlessly pointed to a small bracelet that Jay had left on the floor, and he understood.

Putting it on was the easy part; the hard part was the instant suppression of her powers, and Nya gasped for air as she felt it shoved forcibly back, caged. It hurt a little, but it was ultimately the best option unless she wanted to birth her children directly into a small lake.

“So, change of plans,” the doctor said amicably, and Nya could already tell that she was going to hate whatever was going to come out of his mouth, “it turns out that there isn’t time for an epidural. You’re doing this birth completely natural!”

Nya opened her mouth, and instead of the scathing remark she had planned she gave a short scream in pain. Jay’s hand was squeezed even tighter as she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. Her abdomen felt like it was on fire, and Jay was doing his best to comfort her and listen to the nurses at the same time.

One of them was telling him that he had to leave the room and Nya’s heart plummeted. She shook her head no, keeping Jay close. He wasn’t leaving her like this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jay said solemnly. “I’m right here, Nya. I’m staying right here, no matter what, I promise. You’re doing amazing.”

“I can see a head!” the doctor exclaimed, and Jay was quick to take a peek. Nya saw the way his face paled instantly, and watched as her Yin swayed on his feet.

She growled. “Don’t you dare faint on me, Jay Walker!”

Jay swallowed thickly. “Not planning on it.”

“Keep pushing, miss,” the nicer nurse said from Nya’s other side, “you’re almost there! Push!”

Nya pushed, alright. She kept going in time with whatever the nurse was saying, spurred on by Jay’s encouragement and praise. As embarrassing as it was, Nya couldn’t stop herself from crying, keeping her face in Jay’s shoulder so the other people wouldn’t have to see her tears. It was bad enough that she couldn’t contain her sobs.

All it took was one final push and the pressure relieved itself, Nya collapsing heavily against Jay as all of her strength left. Jay was stroking her hair, kissing away the tear tracks on her face and doing his best to get feeling back in his poor hand.

But something was wrong.

Dizziness threw her vision into disarray, and suddenly she was clutching onto Jay for a very different reason than giving birth. “Jay, Jay, something’s wrong.”

“What?” Jay asked, puzzled, and he turned to see the doctor turn as white as the sheets. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

It took just one look at the sheets under Nya to see what was wrong. The sterile white was quickly being turned crimson by blood at an alarming rate, and Jay couldn’t breathe. He barely even got to see the baby before the nurse was rushing it out of the room. Nya was trying to say something to him, but the only person he could focus on was the doctor reaching for some tools on the side table next to him.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jay asked urgently, squeezing Nya’s hand back and holding her close.

The other man grit his teeth. “She’s crashing is what’s happening!”

“Crashing?!” Jay whipped his head around to Nya. “Nya, Nya, you need to listen to me. You’re going to be fine, okay? I promise everything is going to be okay, I just need you to hold on for me. Can you do that?”

“Jay,” Nya whispered, and Jay’s heart stopped with how weak her voice sounded, “I love you, I love you so so much-”

“Stop it.” he said angrily. “No. No. You’re going to be fine. You hear me, Nya? Everything’s going to be okay.”

She tried to let his words give her some strength, but it wasn’t enough to keep her eyes open. The last thing she heard before she passed out was the rolling of a crash cart, accompanied by Jay’s frantic reassurances and the feel of his lips against hers.

Waking up was an experience. Her head was pounding like someone was striking a hammer against her skull, and her mouth was as dry as the desert where Jay had grown up. Feeling around her mouth with her thickened tongue, Nya opened her eyes, squinting. She immediately noted the time difference; it had barely been noon when they had arrived at the hospital, and now it looked well after sunset. The sun’s rays were still shining but only barely, glinting off of the metal equipment in the room.

There was an odd pressure on her arm, and Nya could feel her heart melting when she looked down to see her Yin fast asleep. He was drooling onto the now clean sheets, grasping at her hand, carefully avoiding the I.V. line that she was hooked up to (when had that happened?), and Nya giggled. She tried to take her arm back, only for Jay to tighten his hold and snuggle it closer.

“Jay,” she said softly, stroking across his cheekbone with her thumb, “it’s to wake up now, dear.”

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, and Nya could only sigh as she kept stroking with her thumb, tracing his cheekbone and down his jaw to wipe away the trail of drool leaking out.

“I think it’s been a little longer than five minutes, honey.”

She watched as his eyes slowly started to blink open, still heavy with sleep. The blue was deep and dark; his eyes tended to get brighter when he had more energy. Jay yawned, sitting up properly and lazily stretching his back to hear it give a nice pop.

He never let go of her hand, only taking it so he could kiss her palm. “Good morning.”

Nya raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s morning, Jay.”

“Hmm?” he hummed, and finally he seemed to realize what was happening. “Nya! You’re awake!”

The water ninja was not prepared for her Yin to shoot forward and wrap her in a crushing hug, one hand going around her waist and the other tangling itself in her hair. Nya hugged him back, kissing his neck when she felt tears start to soak through the hospital gown from where he had tucked his face into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” she soothed, rubbing his back in smooth motions, “you’re okay, Jay. I’m okay.”

“B-but you almost weren’t!” Jay sobbed, “I could’ve lost you!”

“I’m not going anywhere, love.” she said firmly, and then it hit her.

She had been in labor.

She was clearly no longer in labor.

Where were her children?!

“Where are the kids?” she asked urgently, not meaning to be so rough when she pushed him away, “Where are my kids?!”

“They had to go to the ICU,” Jay explained, “after they had to perform surgery to get him out. It-it was pretty scary. Here, I’ll call the nurse and tell her you’re awake so we can see them-”

Nya grabbed his arm when he started to get up. “Wait! What did we have?”

Jay gave her a watery smile. “A boy and a girl, just like you said we would.”

“Kai owes me a hundred bucks,” Nya said smugly. Jay chuckled, pushing down another watery sob as he left the room to find the nurse. She wasn’t left alone for very long; Jay must’ve said something, because soon the rest of her family was filing into the small hospital room.

Her big bad older brother had clearly been crying too, even if he was trying not to show it. Lloyd looked tired, like he had just run a marathon at four in the morning, and Cole didn’t look much better on his other side. Nya shook her head, smiling; these were her idiot brothers alright. Did they really think she was going to go out like that? Without even saying hello to her kids?

“C’mere guys,” she said as cheerfully as she could, holding out her arms. The boys piled in without hesitating, even though she could tell that they were still trying to be careful with her. That was totally fair: she had just given birth to a child, almost died from blood loss and had a major abdominal surgery in what she assumed was a four hour window.

Zane and Pix held back at first, waiting until Cole and Kai had pulled away before going in. Nya appreciated the sentiment. Lloyd kept hugging her well after everyone else had had their fill, and she was all too happy to hold him close and kiss the top of his blond locks while his shoulders shook with hidden emotion.

Lloyd gave her a stern look when he finally stepped back, making a beeline for the hard plastic chair on Kai’s other side and leaning his head on his older brother’s shoulder. “You’re never allowed to scare us like that again, you hear me? Never.”

Nya shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t ask to have a hemorrhage. At least, I’m assuming that’s what happened, right?”

“That is correct,” Pixal said, “although I agree with Lloyd. You cannot give us a scare like that.”

“You’re lucky Cole was here,” Kai said quietly. “He helped give you a transfusion.”

Cole looked sheepish when she turned to thank him, rubbing the back of his head. “Don’t mention it, seriously. What else are brothers for, right?”

“Also I would’ve killed him in his sleep if he hadn’t done anything,” Jay said jovially, walking back into the room with a new pep in his step. Nya could hear something rattling behind him, and watched in amazement as the two nurses from earlier rolled in two odd-looking incubators, each holding a baby.

Her babies. Jay’s babies. Their babies.

“Nya,” Jay said softly, “meet our two amazing and wonderful kiddos: Elizabeth and Noah Walker.”

“C-Can I hold them?”

Of course, the nurses told her, already making the preparations for her to do so, Nya felt the tears coming before she could stop them, and in an instant Jay was there to wipe them away.

Kai stood up to help, and Nya looked at the baby girl (her daughter) placed in her arms with absolute awe. She was so little, Nya noted, with only a couple scraps of brown hair on the top of her head. Jay helped her to support the baby’s head, and Nya watched as she curled her tiny hands into fists. With instincts that she didn’t even know she possessed, Nya let her hospital gown fall off of her shoulder, uncaring of who saw her do so.

It only took a second for the baby to start suckling. The tears in her eyes started coming even faster, and Nya leaned into Kai’s side once he had wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“I made this?” she said faintly, cupping the baby’s head. She couldn’t believe that something so soft and precious could’ve ever been born from their rough and tumble lifestyle. More of her heart melted when the baby’s hand wrapped itself around her finger.

“You made her, alright,” Kai said warmly, placing his hand under Nya’s to support the baby’s head, “and she’s perfect.”

“My little spark,” Nya whispered, pressing a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “I’m so glad to meet you, Tessa.”

Jay walked over with the other baby, her little boy. He took after Jay far more than Tessa did, with a mop of curly brown hair so dark that it was almost black and the makings of Jay’s signature grin. Cole and Zane were both cooing over Noah, with Cole giving the boy his finger to play with. Jay had tears in his eyes just like she did, and she could taste them as they fell down his face and into their kiss.

“Hey Nya?” Jay said quietly.

“Yes, Jay?”

“I know we’ve made a lot of stuff over the years, but I think they’re the best thing we could’ve ever created. I can promise you that.”

#ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago jaya #jayaweek2023 #finn's writing #ninjago jaya week 2023 day 4: promise

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spiderling-space · 4 years

Note

Henlo Liho-san~! A new follower of yours uwu May I ask for hcs of how the dorm leaders would react with having an f!s/o who is mostly respectful and polite, suddenly about to throw hands with someone as they may or may not have said or complained about the dorm head they were dating. It was not a compliment in any way or form- I hope I didn't cross over any rules! But if I had to pick 5 out of 7 of them, it's Riddle, Azul, Idia, Kalim, and Vil. Thanks a bunch if you notice this~! Good Luck!!♡♡

Hey yo Nocturne! I know of you from liking I and Brew’s OC (twisted-whimsies): Mozerella Trein and a couple TW related posts of mine.

Prefects and Vice Prefects are exception from character limit.

After finishing this, I realized I wrote something between a ficlet and headcanon. I hope you’ll like it though 💕

My German knowledge is bugging me to write Vil’s surname with ö instead of o yet my order-loving side is telling me to stick to how it’s written in TW

Before I start I’m gonna add a quote from a fandom of mine 👀 one look at my OG blog would reveal which fandom it is.

“Fallaces sunt rerum species”

Meaning: The appearances of things are deceptive

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle can handle himself. At least he could before his overblot episode. No body dared to talk behind his back.

But now he holds back, not using his unique magic frequently anymore which caused some students think he became too lenient and a couple students started to abuse this leniency

Every time someone tries his patience he counts to 10 internally or just ignore them. Don’t get him wrong, he still sticks to rules and makes his dorm follow the rules but he cannot force people to stop talking about him

Today is going to one of the days when he would ignore any bad mouthing because he is with (Y/N), the sweetest person he ever met

(Y/N) already saw at his worst when he overblotted. He doesn’t want her to see any more incidents such that.

He and (Y/N) decided to take a walk in Rose Gardens as a date. Then decided to get into Rose Maze, holding hands strictly for to not get lost.

“Prefect Rosehearts became such a softie. He is no longer fit to be our prefect.” “He never was. Mommy Issues needs to go back to kindergarten.”

(Y/N) and Riddle were in East side of Rose Maze when they heard 2 Heartslabyl students talking which made (Y/N) stop in her track. Riddle tugged her hand to move on but she didn’t budge.

“Riddle, honey, either push away those bushes or I’ll climb over it and have a nice chat with them.”

“There is no need.” — “okay then I’m climbing”

And she did. Riddle didn’t know how but she managed to go to other side of bushes by climbing to them.

“Hey jackasses! Would you like to say that again?” The two students were shocked to see Riddle’s girlfriend jump from above. “Wh- what?”

“I asked if you wanted to say those to my face.” And no answer.

Meanwhile Riddle was on the other side of bush walls, listening what’s happening.

“Did Riddle or did he not manage to increase Heartslabyl’s average grade?” “He did...” “Did he or did he not helped your dorm to have better ranking at Magift?” “He did...” “Did he treat you unfair ever since he fixed how he acted?” “No...” “Then what makes you say he is unfit? Is it because he is more tolerant on rules? Is it because he cares how his dorm mates feel?” No answer again. “I hope you come to your senses now because next time I hear something like this will be the first and last time you taste my wrath. Are we clear?” — “Yes ma’am!”

(Y/N) climbed over the bush again and landed in front of Riddle. With a kiss to his cheek, “Just because you give less punishment doesn’t mean you need to let people bully you. If anyone else acts this way, I’ll have a talk with them.”

She held his hand and pulled him into the maze again. Meanwhile Riddle was still wondering how his girlfriend climbed over a maze’s wall.

🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁🦁

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is used to people bad mouthing about him back in his palace. While in Savanaclaw, his dorm mates respected him and didn’t dare to oppose him. That is until they saw his vulnerable side during his overblot accident.

He heard a couple dorm mates say “He can’t do anything by himself.” “Good for nothing.” “All that lazy lion does is sleep.” “He must have lack brains to repeat the same year over and over again.”

He is used to ignoring them and sleeping it off. And his favorite pillow, (Y/N), helped him to dismiss their thoughts.

Leona only asked (Y/N) out because he figured she would be great body pillow. Certainly not her lively and cheerful attitude, nor her bright smile.

Leona asked (Y/N) out for a night date in Savanaclaw. It’s because he wanted to nap in his dorm. It’s absolutely not that Savanaclaw lounge looks romantic at night.

When (Y/N) arrived, she unfortunately heard those.

Leona tugged her arm to lead her to where their date suppose to take but no avail.

“Hold my purse, kitten.” (Y/N) handed her purse to Leona and went where those dorm members stand.

“Hey there is something in your face!” The main jerk looked up “Huh?” Proceeded with a punch to his face. “It was PAIN!” And ended with the guy falling to ground, holding his nose.

“Does anyone else have something on their faces?” The remaining ones shook their head in NO. “Good.” She turned on her heels and went to Leona’s side.

All Leona could do was admire her right hook. He did not think how she wouldn’t feel out of blue in Afterglow Savannah if she were to live there because women in his hometown are strong and fighters.

🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

(Y/N) first caught Azul’s eye when she sat down for 7 hours to read every single detail in his contract and demanded a change in certain conditions. Azul refused to make contract with her then offered her a job in Mostro Lounge.

With persuasion from the twins, Azul gathered courage to ask (Y/N) out. And she accepted.

They often stayed late hours in Mostro Lounge to spend some alone time.

After their quick date followed by closing of Mostro Lounge, Azul walked arm in arm with (Y/N) until the mirror passage. As they were walking, 2 Octavinelle student were messing around.

“Look at me! I’m the crybaby who hides behind two eels!” — “No one is making contract, I’mma cry now!” — “Maybe I can turn my crying into money. I can sell all the ink I cry!” “Nice one dude!”

One look to Azul’s face, (Y/N) understood he would deal with them either personally or the twins would play with them.

Not today Satan!

(Y/N) let Azul’s arm go and slowly approached the duo. “I am (Y/N), you can’t insult my boyfriend like that; prepare to die... socially I mean...” — “What are you saying?”

“I don’t have patience, time nor crayons to explain this to you but I’ll let you on a secret. Sometimes a nasty rumor, which doesn’t have to be true, can ruin someone’s entire school life. Maybe telling everyone your secret wish that you once asked from Azul or you offering a different type of payment to teachers to pass the grade.” — “You can’t do that!” — “I can and I will unless you cut the crap, ask for forgiveness and work for free in Mostro Louge for a week.” — “It’s a deal!”

Azul came to (Y/N)’s side as the two boys run away. Azul once again saw his angelfish using her wits to get what she wants. He knows she didn’t need to do that but he is flattered by the fact that his girlfriend wants to protect him.

🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim asked (Y/N) out after spending time together after Jamil overblotted.

He is still the sunshine bean that brings smile to everyone’s faces. (Y/N) is as cheerful as Kalim and that’s why he hit it off

Kalim took (Y/N) to another carpet ride as a date. She loves the feeling of wind on her face on top clouds.

As they returned to the dorm, they heard a couple students talking.

“I don’t care what Jamil did. He was right! Kalim is unfit to represent us. After he became prefect, we became the last at everything.” — “How many Kalim can change a light bulb? None because he is too idiot and too incapable to change one. Hehehehe”

(Y/N) saw tears building up on Kalim’s eyes then she snapped. She made carpet to fly over them in law altitude then she jumped down in front of them. “Surprise motherfuckers!” Before anyone can understand what happened. (Y/N) kicked the one that made bulb joke between his legs then held and twist the ear of the other two. “You have 10 seconds to reconsider what you just talked. I suggest not to waste time.”

The trio tried to dismissed what they said but the glare they received made them comply. “Prefect Kalim, we are sorry to make fun of you.”

Kalim as the personification of sunbeams forgave them. Then turned his attention to his beloved. He was impressed by how she jumped down and was ready to protect him without any hesitation. He never thought someone as kind and happy person as her could hide a fighter in her. Not going to lie, he loves seeing this side of hers

👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑👑

Vil Schönheit

Being with Vil is exhausting. Don’t get her wrong, it’s not him (Y/N) is complaining. It’s the people around them.

(Y/N) started paying more attention to her appearance

(Y/N) was waiting for Vil to get ready, sitting on his bed. Vil had free time that day and they were going out.

As they went out of the room, whispering ensued as always but this time, for the first time, a Pomefiore student bad mouthed about Vil.

“He is compensating his wretched personality with his looks!”

Vil isn’t someone to care opinions of a no-mark but (Y/N) is

“Hold my earrings, my love.” (Y/N) took out her earrings and handed them to Vil. “I’m going to snatch his wig!” — “He’s not wearing a wig...”

“I take it you weren’t burned with overabundance of schooling. You think you’re a Gucci but you’re not even Lacoste. Now apologize before I think your face needs a makeover.” — “Gucci? Lacoste?” — “And I suggest hide your jealousy better. You can’t get near Vil as a fan and you try to make up for it by talking about something that you have no idea on. Honestly I am jealous of people who haven’t met you.”

(Y/N) waves back the boy, going back to Vil’s side then putting her earrings again.

Vil is quite pleased what has occurred. Not only he saw how (Y/N) can destroy someone with just words but he also saw a glimpse of what she thinks of him. Maybe he should hire some people to insult him so he can see this side of hers again.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Idia Shroud

Idia tries everything he can to stay in his room but there is an anime con that he and (Y/N) are going so he needs to get out of his room.

Idia and (Y/N) dressed up as his favorite anime couple.

Idia left his room voluntarily without any compulsory reason! It became a quick hit topic in Ignihyde.

Idia and (Y/N) went to anime-con and Ortho tagged along to record the ordeal.

They had to return early because some drunk in the con spilt juice on (Y/N).

So they returned NRC then Ignihyde. Ortho left for somewhere as Idia and (Y/N) walked in Ignihyde lounge.

“He doesn’t even go Dorm meeting but doesn’t have a problem with going a stupid con! Idia is an embarrassment to Ignihyde! All he does is play games and ramble about them!”

(Y/N) coughed gathering attention from the group.

Idia freaked out by being in highlight, hand pulled his chest, eyes widened.

“Baby, get behind me.” (Y/N) stepped in front of Idia and strutted to the Ignihyde student that was shit talking. “Pick a God and pray.”

The boy gulped. “Wh-What?!”

“Did I stutter?”

“I don’t know what—“ He threw his hands to air in frustration. (Y/N) grabbed his wrist, twisting and pulling his arm. The momentum caused the boy to fell face forward. (Y/N) still holding his arm twisted, “Now, dear, you’ll apologize and promise that you’ll never speak of Idia that way. Then get out of my face or else..” — “Yes ma’am!” The boy did as he was told.

Idia couldn’t guess in a million years that his goody two shoes girlfriend was capable of pulling this stunt. What he saw right now made him think the fighter beautiful ladies in anime. It was like a dream come true for him.

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

People feared Malleus for a really long time that he couldn’t remember anything else.

People avoided and tend to talk behind his back yet those didn’t reach insult level.

Who was stupid enough to dare that?

Malleus asked (Y/N) if she wanted to explore Diasomnia dorm and hear about the gargoyles of Diasomnia.

Of course she would love it. She loves when Malleus goes on about gargoyles for hours. And she is the only member in his club. Plus nightly strolls are their dates.

“He has no friends and no body loves him. For goodness’ sake, his intimating aura makes rest of dorm unapproachable! Can’t he just be gone already!?”

No genius is needed to know who that Diasomnia student was talking about.

Malleus’ mood turned sour immediately. He could curse that boy but this would only prove those wretched rumors.

(Y/N) finds Malleus’ sulking face extremely attractive (he is too attractive to be real) but no one has any right to upset her beloved.

“I’m about to end this man’s whole career.”

“Dear, wait me here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Off (Y/N) went to defend Malleus’ honor.

“Hi there! Couldn’t help but hear you. Have you ever thought you have no friends because you’re an ass?” — “Who do you think you are? Oh it’s you.” — “It’s me Mario!” — “Huh???”

“Now now, let’s talk shall we? All you do is complain yet you don’t do anything to improve anything. You hold others accountable when you fail while there is no one but you to blame. You’re so wrapped in your tiny bubble that you can’t see outside world. That’s what small minded people do. Whoever told you to be yourself simply couldn’t give you any worse advice.” The guy was left speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. “Close your mouth or else you might swallow a fly.”

(Y/N) went back to Malleus side, winking at him. His heart skipped a beat, thinking this was such a queen act. Defending her beloved with her words. To be fair, Malleus finds everything (Y/N) does a fitting trait for a queen, the way she rambles, snorts, breaths, smiles...

Malleus only wishes he met (Y/N) ages ago.

#riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #prefect #female reader #headcanons #heartslabyul

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cottage on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: I decided to post this earlier than I had planned. Thanks for all of your responses so far! Some trigger warnings I forgot to add but don't happen until this and future chapters anyway are inappropriate and unwanted infatuation. There will probably be more tw's as we move along.

Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Prologue

Chapter 1

“Hey.”

The sound of Graham’s voice pulls Emma from her thoughts as she stares blankly into the full margarita glass in her hand. “Hey.”

“There aren’t any hard feelings, right?”

She can hear the concern in his thick, Irish accent as he claims the stool next to her and sets his beer tumbler on the bar top.

Swiveling her head to look at him, she knits her brows in confusion. “Why would there be?”

He shrugs. “Because I know how much you wanted the promotion.”

Right. That.

Emma’s been so consumed by the trial she actually forgot why she was here at the bar—to celebrate Graham’s promotion. The hospital board of directors appointed Graham to Chief of Surgery a week ago, and though the news was a major blow to her at first, she’s thrilled for him; she really is. Yes, she’d wanted the position, and ever since the predecessor announced his retirement, she and Graham had been the leading contenders. She’s proven time and time again she’s more than capable of overtaking the extra responsibilities the job entails, but Graham deserves the title as well.

“You're qualified and capable and you deserved it,” Graham says empathetically with an expression meant to convey his reluctance to say what he wants to say. Averting his eyes from hers, he cradles the back of his neck with his palm, his cheeks reddening as he adds, “Probably more qualified than I am.”

Emma tilts her head from side to side and offers a slight smirk. “Not probably. I am,” she teases playfully, making him chuckle. His left hand rests on the bar top between them as she places her hand over his, her smirk transforming into a sincere smile. “I’m happy for you, Graham, I really am. I’m sorry if I seem…” she pauses, debating which adjective best describes her recent behavior before settling on, “distant.” Distant isn’t really the adequate term, but it’s the best word to convey her mood without putting a damper on his.

Graham swivels toward her on his stool to cover her hand with his other one. “That trial really rattled you, didn’t it?”

Emma drags her hand away to bring the margarita glass to her lips, and mumbles, “In more ways than one,” before taking a sip. Not only does she constantly question her decision, but the visions of the defendant’s eyes watching her keep flittering through her mind. He'd made her feel very uncomfortable in the courtroom. Every time she'd look his way, he was staring. And she knew he wasn’t merely staring aimlessly into space or at someone next to her. No, he was staring directly at her. She kept trying to discourage his attention by scowling at him or looking away, but her attempts only seemed to encourage him. Every time she saw that creepy grin on his face, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; it was like slimy worms were crawling up her skin. She felt like she were in an episode of Fear Factor.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Em. He could actually be innocent,” Graham says with a spirited grin as he playfully nudges her elbow with his. “And if he is, you saved an innocent man’s life.”

Emma smiles faintly at him, appreciating his optimism. “I didn't. The jury saved him.”

“Oh, come on, where’s that confident surgeon I know? I would’ve thought you’d return from the trial gloating about being picked as a forewoman when I said you wouldn’t even be chosen as a juror.”

Emma laughs. “You have a valid point, I should be brandishing my bragging rights at your celebration party instead of sulking at the bar all by my lonesome.” She takes another sip of her drink.

When she moaned and groaned to Graham in the doctors’ lounge about receiving the jury summons, he was quick to point out she wouldn’t be chosen because she’s too opinionated, too analytical and too bossy. Emma just smirked and took his remarks as compliments. “Guess you were wrong.”

He shrugs indifferently. “Oh well, you win some, you lose some. I can’t expect to win all our battles.”

Emma nods in agreement. “What would be the fun in winning all the time?”

Graham winks at her. “Exactly.”

He chugs the rest of his beer down before asking Emma to play darts with him. She groans, but when he takes her hand in his and pulls her from the barstool, she doesn’t argue.

After she beats him at darts, she chats with other colleagues and switches to water after one margarita, since she has to drive home. Robin Locklsey is the owner of the bar, but his wife, Regina, is one of the doctors celebrating with them tonight, so he joins them at the table to socialize and later, plays a couple rounds of pool with Graham and Regina.

Emma is the first among her colleagues to announce she’s ready to leave because she has to work an early shift in the morning. After saying good night to everyone, she is escorted to her car by Graham.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says sincerely as they turn to face each other in front of her car.

“Thanks for inviting me.” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, wondering if he really knows how happy she is for him, and not bitter in any way. Of course, she’d take the promotion in a heartbeat, but she’s glad it went to him and not someone else. “Congratulations, Graham. I‘m really proud of you,” Emma says with a genuine smile. Then she opens her arms, and he follows suit, pulling her into a hug. “If someone other than me had to get the promotion, I’m glad it was you,” she murmurs into his ear, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding her tight.

The hug is longer than she expects, and as soon as she realizes other colleagues could filter out at any second and think something else is happening between the two doctors who are famously known around the hospital as rival surgeons, Emma pulls away. “Have a good night, Graham.” She’s about to turn around and walk away, but he does something else she doesn’t expect.

He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Emma.”

She offers a faint smile. “Goodbye, Graham.”

She walks away from him, not sure what to think or how else to respond to what just happened. They’ve known each other since they were both residents and never once has he kissed her on the cheek, which is actually kind of strange if she thinks about it. They’ve always been too busy poking fun at one another to engage in long hugs and kisses on the cheek.

Once Emma’s inside her car, she places her hand on her cheek as she watches him head back into the bar. The kiss meant nothing. It was just a cheek kiss. They’re friends. They should be able to exchange cheek kisses without it meaning anything.

Yes, it was just a friendly kiss, Emma surmises as she pulls her hand away from her cheek to start her trusty bug. When the engine roars to life, she pulls away from the curb, breathing unsteadily as she drives home. She knows it was only a friendly kiss, but did he? Could he have feelings for her that went beyond the friendly relationship they had established?

If so, she has to put a stop to it now. She can't get romantically involved with a colleague. She doesn't get romantically involved with anyone, and certainly not with anyone she works with. What they have now is good and she doesn't want that to change.

The entire way home, she wonders if the kiss had meant something more than friendship. It's 10:17 pm when she pulls into her garage and decides to ask him about the kiss tomorrow and tell him they can't be anything more than friends.

~*~

Four hours later…

The smoke rings float through the pleasantly cool, Texas air before slowly evaporating into the blackness. The soothing sound of a trumpet from his favorite Frank Sinatra song plays through the audio speakers as he stares at the photo in the Storybrooke Telegram. It’s a glowing article about Storybrooke General’s new Chief of Surgery and confirmation of what his sweet Tamara told him yesterday. It’s not that he didn’t believe her, but he needed proof so he would know without a shadow of a doubt his efforts will not be wasted. It’s not every day he takes a life for his own personal agenda. And truth be told, he doesn’t trust anyone. Not even the pretty nurse who’s been his second pair of eyes and ears since he met her at the strip club six months ago. Two out of the three days a week Tamara’s not working at the hospital, she’s pole dancing to pay off her college debts.

Tossing the paper aside, he brings the cigar between his lips and gently inhales, savoring the warm cherry-flavored smoke before exhaling slowly, blowing the smoke toward the direction where Storybrooke General stands tall. The excitement dancing inside his belly is almost unbearable.

Not guilty.

Since the moment those two delightful words rang through the courtroom, he’d been contemplating ways to thank the beautiful blonde juror who so passionately argued for his acquittal.

And he’s thought of the perfect way to show his gratitude.

His lips expand into a menacing grin. He grows hard just thinking about her and how flushed she got when he stared at her lustfully in the courtroom. Such an exquisite creature she is. She wore those soft, silk blouses and tight black skirts which showed off her long, sexy legs and made her ass look so nice, you could melt ice cubes on it. She looked good enough to eat.

He groans and palms his erection, but the ringing of his phone interrupts his pleasant thoughts. If only he had enough time to finish himself off while fantasizing about her. But not tonight.

With a frustrated grunt, he removes his hand from his crotch and pauses the music with the remote control before accepting the call from the unknown number. He says nothing into the phone, only waits for the caller to speak.

“He’s pulling out of his driveway now.”

He ends the call and slips the phone into his pocket, doing his best to contain his excitement. He reaches over and extinguishes the butt of his cigar with the photo of the chief surgeon’s face, taking immense pleasure in watching the cigar blacken and burn a hole into the thin paper.

Rising from his chair, he leers lasciviously over the city from the vantage point of his penthouse balcony.

He carries the Storybrooke Telegram inside and tosses it into the fireplace, watching it disintegrate into ash before he leaves his condo with a knife hidden in his ankle holster. He descends several floors in the elevator and leaves the building, sashaying down the sidewalk as he lifts his hood over his head before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Walking to Storybrooke General takes all of ten minutes, giving him plenty of time to arrive before the Chief Surgeon pulls into the doctor’s parking lot, according to how long it took him to drive from the man’s house to the hospital yesterday morning after he’d followed the doctor home.

Dressed in all black, he’s able to slink around in the night like a black panther. Unlike his father, he always leaves a crime scene like a ghost—invisible and untraceable. He’d burned off his fingerprints long ago and always leaves the weapon at the scene of the crime. It’s too bad his father wasn’t as smart. He may have been cunning and evil, his heart black as night, but there is a reason he’s rotting in prison while his son enjoys a life of luxury as a contract killer, and yet has never been convicted of a crime. No, he’s nothing like his father. He doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He doesn’t kill people with malice intent; he performs a service—a job—and he does so with a straight face, his eyes devoid of emotion. He’s had nothing against anyone he’s ever murdered.

Well, until tonight.

Tonight, he will be the one wielding the power, tonight he will be the one deciding someone’s fate.

Because tonight he’s doing it for her.

Dr. Emma Swan.

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

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#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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