#literally just need to vomit this out of my brain

[yuichi-ro]

3:32 𝘗𝘔 - 𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘺𝘶𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘫𝘪

cw: fem!Reader x draken, angst, hurt/no comfort, manga spoilers, from takemichi’s pov, unedited wc: 1.6k -𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨

No longer the serendipity of Pah’s wedding. 

It wasn’t like the reception was what took him away either. Takemichi sat staring at his feet reeling from the shift but knowing it had happened as he only had this pair of shoes during high school. Eleven years back. And when he looked up all the familiar faces at Pah’s wedding were around him. Well, nearly everyone.

“Aye you look like you’re about to throw up Takemitchy.” Draken, the one face he hadn’t seen immediately when returning, was behind him on the top of the stairs. He scrunched his nose and offered him the drink in his other hand without much of another word, “Here.”

That face made his stomach sink in the oddest way. Was it that obvious he’d shifted back or had he said something previously? Didn’t matter it’s not like he’d remember it now that he was back in the past. With the unopen drink in his hand Takemichi looked out at his group of friends unable to shake what he’d left back at Pah’s wedding. Sour stomach dropping further and further until he finally had to whip around to Draken and blurt it out.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Takemichi’s words dropped out of his mouth like vomit.

“Huh?” Draken’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl, “What the hell kinda question is that, Takemichty?”

“I just- I-” Never able to ease into anything he couldn’t blur the lines of past and his present when he switched this much, “I just- You know- We’re cool- We’re friends- You liked Emma but-”

“But what?” Draken’s face went absolutely cold at the mention of Mikey’s late sister.

Panic set in when all Takemichi could keep doing was looking up at Draken and then glancing over at the group. More specifically at you over with Mitsuya out of earshot of anything entirely. If his shift back to the past wasn’t noticeable. Well his stiff looks over at you were more than enough to tip Draken off.

“What the hell are you looking over at y/n for? What do you think you need to know about anything Takemitchy?” Draken’s tone not one to find amusement in his friend’s little sleepover question.

Quickly palming the back of his neck. Ready to start a fire with how vigorously he was rubbing it. Takemichi chewed down on his bottom lip sputtering out nonsense with an ever growling scowl on Draken’s face above him. Some of it finally stringing together to make sense, “No no! Nothing like that! I just- You know I just thought we’ve been friends for a while- Don’t friends know that kinda thing?! Yamagishi listed off his crushes like a phonebook! Ahah not saying you have a bunch of crushes! Your a good looking guy so I just assumed-”

Draken’s brows pinched together and his grip dented the can he’d cracked open for himself. Stomach getting dropped ten floors the second Takemichi locked eyes with him above him. He couldn’t believe the last time he saw Draken came from the one he was talking to right now. It felt as surreal as any other time he’d lept back to the past. But this was the first time he realized there was more at stake here than just Mikey.

“...do you like kids?” Takemichi tugged on his shirt collar utterly shrinking under Draken’s death glare.

“What kinda crack shit are you smoking Takemitchy.” Draken finally broke the glare to laugh at the absurdity of what was coming out of his mouth, “You ok? Need to lie down or something because you sound insane right now.”

He quickly followed up on Draken’s laugh. Mimicking it in the most nervous fashion possible. Trying not to look away and open his drink like it was no big deal. Failing and struggling until the seal broke. Just to quickly throw it back not realizing he’d been given something carbonated. Only to choke and sputter on it when a few wandering eyes looked over at the scene.

“Hey Takemitchy you good?” Mitsuya, as well as you, had stopped what you were doing to look over at the little scene. 

“Takemitchy got some shit for brains today he can’t even drink.” Draken laughed at his friend choking on his fizzy drink. 

Everyone picked up laughing just as Draken had. Takemichi’s face growing red from both the drink and the attention. A good minor distraction from his thoughts for a second. Before he realized as his coughing fit died down and everyone went back to what they were doing. Takemichi was the awful third wheel privy to seeing Draken’s gaze linger on you of all people. No one else saw it. But he did and maybe Draken was right, he did want to throw up.

“....do you love her?” Takemichi wiped at his mouth after he’d taken another drink to clear himself after the coughing fit.

“Huh?” Draken’s nose scrunched, “Lovewho?”

“Y/n.” 

“No.” 

Takemichi looked over at you. No longer doing anything but chatting with Mitsuya. Knowing he’d seen the two of you at Pah’s wedding. There was no mistaking it. Not with the way Draken had been so excited to show you off as well as the two kids accompanying you both. 

“Not even a little?” Takemichi edged a little closer with the first question even after receiving his answer.

Draken looked over the lip of his drink and frowned, “What part of no do you not understand.”

“I’m sorry-” He shook his head not ready for a fight, “I just- I thought-”

“...I guess....if anything,” Draken’s frown dropped to a somber expression as he looked down at his dented can, “I kind of like her. A little. I guess.”

If his stomach hadn’t ready been doing acrobatics in his guts. Takemichi felt a rightful punch to the gut never believing this could be where it all started. Seeing you pregnant at Pah’s wedding obviously wasn’t enough. You and Draken...actually got together. Somewhere. At some time. 

“What are you even asking about crap like that?” Draken interrupted his thoughts, “You try to pull some match maker I’ll punch your teeth in Takemitchy.”

“No no I would never!” He threw his hands up innocently. No guru in love. Honestly he had a hard enough time keeping Hinata alive just to love her. To interfere with someone else’s love story seemed foolish even for him. 

It stuck in his craw though, that suddenly it wasn’t only his life he was tampering with. This entire time the wrongs he couldn’t right felt inevitable. Baji’s death. Emma’s murder. Kazutora’s imprisonment. They were means to an end. To find an end without Kisaki. And when he did, Takemichi hadn’t expected to return to marriage, kids and more for each and every one of them. Now as he felt like an onlooker to the very real time passing in front of him. Takemichi couldn’t help feel guilty at his choice to come back. He had no idea how or when it happened. But if he changed anything then that smile Draken had when introducing his two sons would never happen.

“You tell even Mikey-” Draken’s voice once again tore him from his festering thoughts. Takemichi looked up to see him shaking his head looking out at the gang. But more specifically following his gaze showed him Draken was only looking at you, “...I’m not ready to loose anymore.”

“Draken...” Takemichi felt the very real weight of knowing what hurt came with loosing a loved one. Hinata and Emma were two different people but the pain their death caused to loved ones was all too similiar. He couldn’t claim to be in Draken’s shoes but he could vividly see those hands on your belly when Draken told him at Pah’s wedding that he was having a third son. He’d never seen him so happy. Not at least that he could recall, “...I don’t think you’ll loose her. If you tell her that is.”

His scowl returned and Draken broke off his stare to look down at him with a condescending look, “And what do you know, Takemitchy? I could loose a friend. Not to mention Mikey or anyone else.”

He couldn’t lay out the wonderfulness of Pah’s wedding. Not that he really didn’t want to so Draken could experience it first hand. Still it tugged at his bleeding heart to give his friend something to look forward to, “I just....don’t think it’ll go like that.” Takemichi felt such a conflicting stir of emotions in his heart. It made him sick, nervous and hopeful all at once when he looked over at you among the other gang members while Draken stood next to him, “Stay alive....please just....stay alive is all.”

“Stay alive?” Draken burst out with a dumbfounded laugh as he reached down and smacked the back of his friend’s head, “Damn Takemitchy you really got weird shit in your brain today. Want me to knock it out for you?”

He winced and rubbed where Draken hit him as he looked up at him with a half hearted grin, “Yeah, maybe. I just want my friends to live a long healthy live is all.”

“Well,” Draken shook his head laughing as he took a drink but was very clearly lookout over at you with a hint of a smile being hide behind his can, “Not like I plan on getting stabbed or shot anytime soon.”

Takemichi swallowed the hard lump in his throat looking out at you just as Draken was unable to help his words mumbling from his lips as it dawned on him that returning might have just put so many more lives at risk than he knew, “Please....live a long and healthy life. For all of five of you.” 

[caeslxys]

I have so much swirling around in my brain about vox machina and bells hells and the mighty nein and I am going to make it all of ya'lls problem. anyway i think it's kind of funny that people think c2 is the forgotten child of critical role because of all the direct relation to c1 through player character back story and connections because, like, yeah.

but wasn't that part of the magic of the mighty nein's story?

vox machina ended with those characters as legends, as written-about historical figures in exandria, as rulers and leaders and councilors of cities and nations in their own right.

the mighty nein? no one knew about lucien, no one knew about aeor. the mighty nein was so deeply mistrustful and surrounded on all sides by people allied to them more by at-the-moment-common-goals and pure, often selfish intrigue than genuine trust that it wasn't until Allura made her appearance in episode 80 (out of 141. over half of the entire story) that not the characters but the cast breathed a sigh of relief.

and when that story ended, almost all of them found a way to settle down. cad went back to his grove. fjord and jes and kingsley took to the sea for a life of piracy. yasha settled down with beau for a peaceful life. veth went back to being with her family. only caleb and beau and essek (who, it's important to note, was on the run) remained explicitly intertwined with the politics of wildemount and exandria, and even that was mostly in secrecy.

What callbacks would there even be to c2 at this point in c3's story (because I do think we will get more, the deeper the hells dive into the assembly's involvement and the secrecy within these cults (?) associated with ruidus at all) outside of Ludinus, the Cerberus Assembly, and dunamancy?

I have hopes of seeing Astrid at some point, given that she's a part of the Cerberus Assembly, but if we're not getting name drops and cameos like Vex'ahlia and Keyleth and Percival for the nein, I don't think that comes from c2 being forgotten or pushed to the sideline. I think it's just a consequence of their particular story.

(and, who knows, maybe Astrid does show up and maybe she does mention an intelligent, fire-wielding wizard educated specifically on the magics within and around calamity-era ruins such as aeor as well as the limits and possibilities of dunamancy, and his partners: a deeply respected expositer of the cobalt soul who has been entrenched in weeding out corruption from the assembly alongside him and a mysterious drow with a mastery of dunamancy and deep knowledge of the calamity-era ruins themself. maybe that's exactly the kind of experience the hells will need)

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

head hurty

[coldflasher]

thinking about how im literally on like. the 8th draft of my novel, but i've still never actually come up with a full, beginning-to-end readable draft without bits missing or repeated scenes or entire chapters in the wrong order

lol

[milo-is-rambling]

Woke up from a nap in the middle of a panic attack because my mom was moving furniture around in the living room and hitting stuff off my bedroom wall while moving the bird cages and while in this panicked state trying to remember where I was what time it was and that it was in fact not my dad cleaning the bird cages on the other side of the wall I decided I NEEDED to digitally submit an application for the same snowcone place I brought a physical application in cause they never got back to me and the actual adults who run the place said they never got a hold of the physical copy I left (thank you teenagers who work there who never gave them my application that was super cool and swag of you 😑) so now I'm on the verge of a panic attack about getting my life together while waiting for my Apple Pencil to charge so I can fill out the application on my iPad and this all happened because I woke up from a dream about traveling the United States in my van and no one knowing my name or my backstory and being able to lie to strangers and when I woke up it felt like I needed to run away as soon as possible or the world would end so now I'm back to trying to make money

[ohimsummer]

Opinions on guiding a sub puppy satoru through heat cuz... 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

— minors dni, suggestive/smut :3, blowjob/handjob, creampies, breeding kink, one mention of getting pregnant but gn! reader otherwise, puppyboy! satoru brain worms 💔 and sort of word vomit HGHDJDM also not proofread <3

i think I interpreted this right but if nawt LMKKK

SO I IMAGINE PUPPYBOY! SATORU GETS THIS INTENSE YEARNING TO BREED AT TIMES…..kind of like rutting season for deers?👀 AND IF HE CAN’T HE GETS VERY FRUSTRATED OKAY HEAR ME OUT >:3

at FIRSTT satoru tries to handle it by himself because he thinks it’s SO embarrassing…his dick is painfully hard and leaking everywhere and even though he’d usually ask you for help, he thinks you’ll laugh at him (you won’t. okay maybe a giggle but it’s because he looks so cute) and he tries to jack himself off in secret—when you’re out of the house, or in the bathroom while you’re busy, sometimes even when you're asleep in bed next to him because he’s hurting so bad <333 even with all the times he’s came in a tissue or his own boxers it’s just not the same, poor boy needs something better than his own hand 😗

so now he’s come to YOU, who satoru knows will be his savior!! approaches you one night before bed when his blue balls are literally unbearable and he can’t fathom this agony another second, he HAS to breed someone and it has to be his beloved you <3 you watch him approach with a rock-hard erection, dick a bright red and he’s leaving a trail of precum droplets behind him :<< satoru’s eyes are teary and his brows are furrowed and he has the cutest pout because he’s just so frustrated. he’s been jerking off for days now and nothing seems to be working, why does he not feel any relief??

“can you help me, please?” and he asks you in such a cute whine, ears twitching, tail wagging tentatively…you would have to be a devil to say no to him ☹️

he's a light tint of red from his ears and all the way down his neck…hands grasping and pulling at the sheets and he's squriming and wiggling and satoru is trying Extremely Hard not to buck up into your hand and mouth as you get him off. it’s almost the same thing he’s been doing but it’s your hand and your warm, wet mouth so it feels sooo SOOO much better, there are tears running down his cheeks <3 your hand is sticky with his pre and loads worth of cum, and even after all this time he’s still not satisfied. he needs to breed someone YOU and it has to be asap‼️

so you give him permission and woah you do not know how he can hold so much cum. like at this point he should be going on empty but it’s like it just keeps on coming. satoru fucks into you like this will be his very last day on earth and he’s trying to ensure you’re getting pregnant. his thrusts are fast and rough and hard and his balls slap loudly against your ass every time, and he’s moaning and whimpering so much because this is the best relief he’s felt in days. he cums in you over and over and over, again and again until you’re gushing it down your thighs and ass and onto the bed and he literally can’t move anymore. the redness of his cock has gone down by a lot and satoru doesn’t feel nearly as horny as before. seeing you stuffed so full eases the yearning desire that’s been burning within him recently, and so he can finally rest <333

hi some of my fav puppyboy! satoru enthusiasts <3 @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase okay luv u byeee 💛

[strwbmei]

Kinktober : BONUS LEVEL.

summary: in the midst of the crowded costume party; stelle needs you— and she needs you now.

contains: modern!au, college!au, female reader, mentioned alcohol usage, pet play sort of(?), stelle is referred to as a dog and she has a collar, transfem!stelle, stelle is taller, mentions of drugs, semi-public sex, creampie, power bottom reader, choking, unprotected sex, non-consensual creampie, stelle is a bit pathetic

pairing(s): pre-established stelle x reader

a/n: It's a bit late considering this was for Halloween, but this idea has been rotting in my brain for so long...

NSFW below the cut !

"Baby..." Stelle whined, looking down at you with those amber-hued puppy eyes she knew you couldn't possibly refuse. Not for long, at least. "Need you s'bad... Please?" The taller woman clung to your arm, tugging on your sleeve like a child who didn't get the toy they wanted.

After the two of you received an invitation to a quote-unquote, "small Halloween costume party" from a mutual acquaintance, you decided to go as the werewolf and little Red Riding Hood.

It was a great idea— the costumes worked well individually, but if someone saw both of you together, it'd be obvious that the two of you were a couple, though that was mostly because you were literally holding her on a leash that was attached to the collar her costume came with.

What wasn't a great idea, however, was going to the party in the first place. Within not even half an hour, the place reeked with the stench of vomit and cheap alcohol, and the second-rate Halloween decorations that were obviously only added as an afterthought were presumably torn off the walls by drunks.

Also, unlike the person who invited you two had said, the party was not small at all. The place was filled to the brim with couples and stoners; the only reason you two still stayed was because it'd be a waste to not use the costumes you already bought. They weren't really expensive, per se, but both of you were broke college students. You were going to make the most out of the $40 you spent on these costumes.

"Stelle, you can't just-" You inhaled, taking in a deep breath as you halt your words. "We're in public. I'm sorry, baby, but you can wait until we get home, hm?" You took her hands into your own, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm. The size difference was almost laughable.

Stelle heaved a dejected sigh, but you knew she hadn't given up quite yet. She was never one to be good with words— but she sure as hell was good at expressing her thoughts with her actions.

Which is probably why you can feel something hard and lengthy rubbing against your thigh as she wraps her arms protectively around your small frame. "Please. I'll make you feel so good, I promise..." She murmurs into your neck.

Well... it's not like you can just leave Stelle with a raging boner, right? Especially when you're what caused it in the first place. Right. You're just doing what any responsible girlfriend would do.

Though, you weren't aware that that included frantically unzipping her pants in god-knows-who's room as music blared from the cheap speakers downstairs.

"Wai- mmph..!" Stelle quickly put a hand over her mouth, stifling a moan as you hurriedly wrapped your lips around her cock. Though muffled, the sounds she made were more than audible.

Her eyes closed in ecstasy, her hands gripping your shoulders with a force that fluctuated between one of considerate eagerness and selfish desperation for her own pleasure— all telltale signs that she was going to cum soon, and you've grown all too familiar with them.

Though Stelle never could last long, the number of rounds she could go for was inhuman. Well, at least her ungodly amount of stamina is one thing about a werewolf that was even remotely similar to her.

As your head bobbed faster and faster in pace, her whimpers and moans grew louder and higher in pitch. With a strangled gasp, ropes of her warm semen flooded down your throat. Your mouth was pressed to her abdomen, swallowing every drop she had to offer.

"H-haah...~" The taller woman looked down at you with further aching need; cock still standing proud with a similar yearning. "Really, babe?" You sighed. A couple getting caught having sex in a party wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, and although normally people wouldn't care, it'd stain your pride.

Just as you were about to start jerking her off, she grabbed your hand by your wrist. "Wanna be inside you. Can I? I've been good..." She frowns; again, looking at you with those eyes.

First, she claimed that she'd make you feel good, only to settle for you sucking her off; second, does she really think she's been good? You wouldn't be in this situation if that were true in the first place. Liar.

However, you reckon you could give her a chance to prove herself...

Next thing you know, you're getting railed on the floor, barely able to keep yourself from falling over as Stelle rutted her hips into you. "W-wait, ah..!" You moaned. You didn't know what made Stelle so uncharacteristically... desperate, as if she were a dog in heat.

Maybe it was your costume? No, it looked good— but certainly not that good. And it wasn't revealing in the least, even the skirt was below knees length. Perhaps she was just too drunk? That's not it, either. Stelle has been drunk many times before and she's never acted like this.

Oh. The collar.

"Goddamit, Stelle...!" You huffed out in a hushed voice with all of the anger you could muster up. Everybody knows you can't ever stay mad at her, no matter what she does. Just like a cute puppy getting caught making a mess, Stelle only whines at your words; one hand over her mouth to muffle her sounds while the other kneaded at your breasts.

You pull her into a sloppy, hot kiss by her collar, the pace and strength of her thrusts unwavering. She whimpers into your mouth, swallowing all of your moans as she practically pounds you into the floor. Her cock was on the thicker side, rubbing perfectly against your walls while her tip kissed your cervix.

"Shit, so... tight...!" Stelle breaks out of your grip with little to no effort, hands needily grabbing and massaging at your tits. You tried to tell her to pull out, but you couldn't get any words out of your mouth through your moans. She mumbled a string of curses and apologies like a sinner begging for forgiveness. "Oh god, I'm gonna cum, gonna cum inside!"

With a choked moan, she held your hips down as you felt her warm cum fill you up. She lets out a sigh of pleasure as she pulls out of you, breathlessly pressing kisses on your inner thighs and apologizing. Though, seeing her cum leak out of you when she pressed down slightly on your stomach has her vigor returning tenfold...

Fuck it. She's cum inside of you already, what's the harm in two, maybe three more times? The night is young, after all.

╰┈➤ taglist ; @roninraccoon , @hedgehog666 , @dukemira , @yelanrambles , @the-night-owl-blr

[cuckette]

BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

[spidernuggets]

could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating ace edition

— male reader <3 i love ace so much sorry it took so long to finish this pooks

— im a firm believer that ace definitely types hehehehe and actually does giggle in real life. he's such a giggler.

liked by [l/n].ace, freeluffy, and 17k others

portgas.[name]: best part about dating ace?? his person(a)lity(rms) ❤️

tagged: [l/n].ace

[l/n].ace: damn id smash this fine mffff

-> portgas.[name]: im deleting this post u fucking narcissist

freeluffy: i still win our arm wrestles tho 🥱

roro.zoro: does [name] know he mispelt personality?

-> portgas.[name]: its something called a pun, zoro.

-> roro.zoro: well the delivery sucked i thought ur brain had an aneurysm

revo.sabo: BARRRFFFF this egotistical maniac didnt need this stroke to his ego [name]

-> portgas.[name]: trust me im regretting even dating ur silly ass brother rn

-> [l/n].ace: r u guys talking about me 🥺🥺🥺🥺

liked by portgas.[name], m4rco.polo, and 19k others

[l/n].ace: pov ur on a date with me and watching me try not to vomit all the sushi i shoved into my mouth all over the table

tagged: portgas.[name]

portgas.[name]: why r u on dates w other ppl???

-> [l/n].ace: ITS A JOKE BABY PLS

-> portgas.[name]: mhm

m4rco.polo: damn this shit sounds disgusting id never go on a date w u again if i saw this tbh

[liked by portgas.[name], eee.izo, yammyato, and 100 others]

yamayamato: r u cheating on [name] ace?

-> [l/n].ace: IT WAS A JOKE ITS AN INTERNET SAYING PLEASE

-> yamayamato: yeah well i dont think its very funny :// u should be loyal in a relationship

-> portgas.[name]: yamato <333 u were always my favorite boy ugh i love u sm 🥰

liked by portgas.[name], yamayamato, and 21k others

[l/n].ace: weekly me post bc i love me! (and my mans) 🤓😕

tagged: portgas.[name]

portgas.[name]: yeah im in there guys!!!

-> [l/n].ace: i love u hehehe u make me blush hehehehe

portgas.[name]: are u free tn? i'll take u out and treat u right ughhh

-> [l/n].ace: i got a date with my bf later tn, sorry not sorry !!!

revo.sabo: i need to mute you because i can't be seeing this shit when im in public

-> [l/n].ace: dont be ashamed that your brother is so hot wtf

revo.sabo: with all due respect, im already ashamed that hes my brother in general soooo

[liked by portgas.[name], eee.izo, and 200 others]

yamayamato: my arms are still bigger. get on my level ace HAHAHA

-> portgas.[name]: proof?

-> [l/n].ace: this is literally cheating, you're cheating on me right now. can you please stop cheating on me with yamato?

liked by [l/n].ace, portgas.[name], and 15k others

m4rco.polo: god forbid these two do anything by themselves

tagged: [l/n].ace and portgas.[name]

[l/n].ace: ur just jealous ur not in love like we are

-> portgas.[name]: agreed bc how r u gonna be like 40 and still not get any play

-> m4rco.polo: 40?????

dni_nami: i loveee them (whenever they come over they ruin the entire house and im this close to murdering them both)

-> portgas.[name]: but nami 🥺🥺🥺

-> dni_nami: no.

eee.izo: its like ace is trying to become one with him or smth, so unsettling

-> [l/n].ace: weren't you the one preaching about young love a week ago?

-> eee.izo: and now im telling u to GROW UP ace, he's not going anywhere if u let go of him for two seconds

[liked by m4rco.polo, revo.sabo, and 90 others]

liked by portgas.[name], freeluffy, revo.sabo, and 22k others

[l/n].ace: i love my snookums baby boy handsome pretty king to the moon and to saturn <3

tagged: portgas.[name]

portgas.[name]: ... i guess i love you too.

-> [l/n].ace: be more confident when u say it baby cakes

-> m4rco.polo: oh my god [name] break up with this fool already what the fuck is this

freeluffy: whats a snookums?

-> roro.zoro: don't ask luffy, you wouldn't want to know.

revo.sabo: awww what a cute post, if only ace were normal <3

[liked by eee.izo, m4rco.polo, and 100 others]

-> [l/n].ace: ????

-> portgas.[name]: im so glad we can agree on this sabo !!!

liked by eee.izo, [l/n].ace, revo.sabo, and 22k others

portgas.[name]: rare sighting of a photo of ace with his shirt on, everyone celebrate in the comments !!!

tagged: [l/n].ace

portgas.[name]: dont get me wrong hes sexy both ways but im not trying to see his nipples every where i go

-> [l/n].ace: but babe you said u liked my titties 🥺🥺🥺

-> portgas.[name]: can you not do this rn.

revo.sabo: yayyy finally he stopped being a WHORE

-> portgas.[name]: at least he can be my whore, but still i agree

-> [l/n].ace: you're the most confusing man i know

-> [l/n].ace: i love u sm hehehehe

-> revo.sabo: the way ik his ass is blushing so hard rn and kicking his feet in the air

eee.izo: thank god for that, i was getting tired of seeing him shirtles sin every single post

m4rco.polo: finally !!!

portgas.[name]'s story:

i love him A LOOOTTTTTTTT even though he's a lil freak

[l/n].ace replied to your story: when he posts you 😍😍 i love u too bby (even tho u literally cheat on me to my face with yamato but its wtv bc i love u enough to ignore it ❤️)

[escapenightmare]

sick bf bakugou, cursing, lowkey a crackfic n word vomit, written at 4am.

bakugou was extremely stubborn.

when you officially started your relationship, you found out that it was a really annoying trait he had, one that sometimes had your hands itching to aggressively shake him by the shoulders until he shut the fuck up and did what you asked him to.

bakugou was stubborn as hell even when he was painfully sick. a blanket wrapped around him and over his messy and fluffy bedhead as he sat up in your shared bed, looking at you with a sharp frown and disgust even though he looked absolutely adorable in that tired and just woke up state.

"drink the damn soup already," you urge for the fifteenth time in the past twenty minutes, crossing your arms across your chest and looking at him, standing by the edge of the bed.

he looked like he was having a staring contest with the soup bowl you had kept in front of him. he glared at it for a few seconds before looking back at you, eyes narrowing into slits as he basically spat. "no. don't tell me what to do, idiot."

"why not?" you narrowed your eyes back at him, choosing to ignore all his words except for the first one. "you literally manhandle me and shove soup down my throat when i'm sick but you don't want to drink it? and you drink soup every other day so why not now when you actually need it?"

he rolled his eyes and seemed to sink a little into the huge blanket. you don't know which question he answered when he says, "that's different."

you just accept it as an answer to your first question.

"how?" you question, moving closer to him and the bed to fix his big, soft pillows and heavy blanket. "do you want me to manhandle you and force you to drink it?"

"fucking try it and i'll stop making you food for two weeks." he hisses like a cat when you shrug, and he glares when your next move is to move the soup bowl a little closer to him. he shoots you a don't you fucking dare look before speaking again. "it's different 'cause you're the one that was sick, not me."

"well," you wreck your brain for any ideas to make him drink the soup. "i'm not talking to you until all the soup in this bowl is gone." you nod after saying it as if to confirm your own words and he gapes at you, scoffing.

"okay, fine," he grits out after a moment of silence. you begin to smile when he finishes his sentence, "don't talk to me, dumbass."

the smile wipes clean off your face and you glare at him once more, but you don't back out. "fine."

you wordlessly sit on the chair in the bedroom and scroll through your phone, feeling bakugou's gaze burn into the side of your head. too bad for him, he was told not to use his phone since he was sick so all he had for entertainment was the dust particles dancing around the air that he could see from the sunlight streaming in through the opened window.

the silence continues for a few minutes before the rustling and ruffling of sheets told you that bakugou was slowly getting out of the bed. you don't bother turning to look at him, hellbent on completing your self given mission of ignoring him until he drank the soup and emptied the bowl.

bakugou doesn't come to you, instead, he just walks out of the room and heads to the bathroom. you hear him harshly slamming the door shut behind him, making you wince as the sound echoed.

he comes back a few minutes later and you quickly look away the moment he enters the room, going back to your phone and doing whatever.

you start to hear the clinking of metal meeting glass and hide your grin when you realize bakugou was actually drinking the soup, the stubborn bastard. who knew he couldn't stay twenty minutes without talking to you?

seconds later, you hear his heavy footsteps on the carpet come closer and closer towards you until the empty soup bowl is shoved in front of your face. you move back and look up to see bakugou's cocky and quite wolfish looking grin.

"i won your stupid game, idiot." he smugly tells you, setting the bowl and spoon down on the table in front of you, smirking in triumph.

"how the hell does your game logic work?" you shake your head but still wrap your arms around his midsection, closely hugging his stomach and patting him on the back with a smile. "good job, kats."

bakugou pats your head a few times with the smug look still on his face, pleased with himself, coughing and sniffling a little due to his cold.

in no time, you have him under the blankets again (—only because he wanted to and was tired, definitely not because you told him to.) but he forces you to join him as well, telling you that, "i don't give a shit about you getting sick 'cause of me. i'll have to take care of your dumb fuck ass anyways."

"fine, fine," you cave, going under the blanket yourself and keeping your back to him. even though what he said was true, you didn't want to get sick and face the pain of bakugou's nagging and overbearing motherliness.

you could literally hear his voice in your head, forcing you to drink the bitter medicine and syrups and eat the healthy food that was supposed to make you feel better but definitely didn't.

"your soup tasted like shit by the way," he tells you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while you get comfortable and drift off to sleep with his arms securely wrapped around you.

but he had no clue what the soup actually tasted like.

and you didn't need to know that he had flushed it down the toilet.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I was wondering if you'd do a Roy Kent x reader series (maybe) where she asks him to pretend they're boyfriend/girlfriend because her ex-boyfriend is marrying her somewhat younger sister. Kinda like The Wedding Date (if you've seen it). Ends up happily ever after?

Ahh, I was going to originally try to do this in one go, but decided to do this in a few small parts so I can get some fluff breaks while working on my longer fic. Here's part one!

Playing Pretend (Part 1)

Roy Kent x Reader

1.9k words

Warnings: Language, references to possible cheating, mutual pining, major rom-com vibes

Summary: The reader has a huge favor to ask Roy Kent- a guy who can never say no to her.

Series Masterlist

“What the fuck d’you want me to do?”

“Be my boyfriend,” you explained slowly. “At the wedding.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “There’s really no one else you can ask?”

You let out a giant sigh and tapped the side of your beer bottle. “I mean, sure, maybe. But you’re Roy fucking Kent. You’d be kind of perfect.”

His eyes bore into yours. Roy Kent had known you quite literally your whole life; he could still remember when his very pregnant mother took him to the hospital to meet you, his sister’s future best friend. Your families were ridiculously close. Up until you were about sixteen, he thought of you as an annoying little bonus sister; then, one Christmas, he came home and suddenly felt decidedly un-brotherly towards you. The way you smiled at him, the way you wore that pink dress, the way you kissed his cheek before you left at the end of the party, all of it made something snap in his brain. For years after that, the very sight of you burned his chest. But there was no way he could tell you; his little sister’s best friend? Cliché.

But those cliché feelings meant he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you’d called him late at night needing to escape from skeevy dates. Not when you’d begged him for an autograph from Jamie Tartt. Not when you’d demanded to know where he got the kebabs he brought to his sister’s parties. And definitely not now, when your heart was in a million pieces as you watched your baby sister get ready to marry your ex-boyfriend.

The idea was insane, you freely admitted that. But the situation you found yourself was equally insane, if you were being honest.

You had dated Jim for years. And Roy fucking hated him. The guy was everything Roy wasn’t: friendly, outgoing, affable, posh, clever. And you loved him. Your parents loved him. Everyone loved him.

When Jim ended things out of the blue three years ago, everyone was shocked. He hadn’t proposed, per se, but it was expected. Things were implied. You’d started looking at rings and thinking about venues. So, when he suddenly broke up with you, you were devastated. You’d spent more than a few nights curled up on the couch at Roy’s sister’s house, with Roy taking Phoebe out of the house so you could mourn with your best friend in peace.

Just when you thought you were pretty much over things, your baby sister Lauren came home with big news. And a ring on her finger. And Jim.

You’d quietly excused yourself from the party she’d chosen to announce her engagement at, walked into a bathroom and vomited, and called Roy. He’d picked you up and drove you to his sister’s, where he watched you drink whiskey straight from a bottle and cry in his sister’s arms.

Now you sat next to him at a bar, where you’d asked him to meet you so you could ask him a huge favor. He’d expected tickets to a match, or help moving to a new flat, or asking him to donate a fucking kidney, literally anything but this. A weekend at some posh estate where your whole family would be celebrating your sister and fucking Jim, watching your heart break all over again sounded like absolute shit to Roy.

But you looked at him with those stupid pleading eyes. “Please, Roy,” you begged. “You’re the only guy I trust enough for this. You’ll protect me. You always protect me.”

There it was. It wasn’t just having the big football star on your arm to show off to everyone; it was having someone you felt safe with. Someone who wouldn’t mock you. Someone who understood. And Roy was always determined to be that person.

“Fine. I’ll fucking do it.”

His cheek burned like fire where you kissed him in gratitude. “Thanks a million Roy! This is why you’re my favorite fella.

Favorite fella. You’d called him that for years. Your mother was the first person to say it after seeing the way you toddled after him all the time once you’d learned to walk. Through the boyfriends you had, through the models he dated, you assured him time and time again that he’d always be your favorite fella.

Roy ignored the warmth in his chest and sipped his beer. “Doesn’t it feel a bit like you’re stealing your sister’s thunder? Bringing a professional footballer as your date?” he mused, anxious to move the conversation along and distract himself from how fucking pretty you looked.

The shrug you gave held a coldness he didn’t know someone as kind as you could muster. “Well, she did steal my boyfriend.”

The smirk that Roy gave made your heart flutter, reminding you of all the pining you’d done for him over the years. “Fair enough.” He looked thoughtful. “You don’t have to answer but… did he… and she…?” He nodded emphatically, not sure how to finish that sentence.

Another shrug. “Who fucking knows? I don’t need to know. They didn’t have the decency to tell me they’d started shagging, that’s all I need to know.”

Roy’s heart was sad to see the hurt in your eyes. He quickly changed his tone. “Can’t believe my sister isn’t invited. Figured you’d wrangle her into keeping you company all weekend.”

You snorted, one of Roy’s favorite sounds. “Oh, she was,” you corrected him. “She’s protesting because she hates Jim and my sister.” You raised your bottle to Roy appreciatively. “Yet another reason to invite you- I need at least one Kent there. And Phoebe couldn’t do shots with me or carry me back to our room when I’m sloshed.”

That was a job Roy wouldn’t mind doing. “Bit surprised I didn’t get an invite. Only known Lauren since she was fucking born.”

“Oh, there was no way you were getting invited. Jim hates you.” Your tone was so matter of fact it took Roy off guard.

“Excuse me?” Roy’d had no idea the disdain was mutual.

You nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, when we were dating, he did not like me hanging out with a dishy footballer. Hates your guts.” Your face lit up playfully. “Yet another reason you’re the perfect wedding date.”

Another smirk crossed his bearded face. “Dishy? Is that his word or yours?”

With a laugh, you shoved him, slipping into that familiar old comfort, the one that made you forget he was Roy Kent. “Don’t go getting a big head, otherwise you won’t fit in the car.”

~

Two weeks later, Roy felt his grip on the steering wheel tighten as he pulled into the drive of the estate the two of you would be spending the weekend at. Of course Jim’s family had gone all out for the wedding. Wanker.

Your leg shook almost violently as your eyes darted around. Instinctively, Roy reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Three days,” he reminded you. “That’s all we’ve gotta get through. Rehearsal dinner tomorrow, wedding Saturday, stupid brunch on Sunday.”

Looking down at your intertwined fingers, you nodded. “Maybe we can skip brunch?” you joked.

Deciding he should start playing the doting boyfriend now, he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “We can abso-fucking-lutely skip brunch.”

And you knew he meant it. Roy always meant it. It was one of the million things that made him your absolute life-long unattainable crush that you thrust into the back of your mind. You always felt like a dumb little kid around him, as if you never quite outgrew the childhood you’d shared, but part of you hoped this weekend together would maybe help him see you in a different light. Besides, Roy’s sister was right when she suggested that Roy would really get under Jim’s skin.

As if summoned, Jim came bounding out of the house, waving at the familiar sight of your car. You felt your breath catch as you gazed at him. Jim. Your Jim. At least, what used to be your Jim.

You got out of the car and waved back. “Hey there!” you called, as if you hadn’t spent the last nine months avoiding him at every family gathering he and Lauren attended.

His smile faded when Roy got out of the car, wearing that signature scowl of his. “Roy!” Jim shouted, quickly recovering. “Didn’t know you were coming.” Now in front of you, he leaned closer. “Thought you were bringing that mystery boyfriend of yours,” he whispered, ignoring the fact that Roy could hear him.

Alright. Here we go. Time to sell it.

“I did,” you chirped brightly. You waved Roy over and wrapped an arm around his waist, while he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Surprise!”

For all the years you’d spent with Jim, you’d never seen him so red in the face. “Oh! Wow! That’s great!”

Roy smiled, a smug grin that felt so fucking good on his face. “It is great, isn’t it? Me and this one, finally getting together.”

Jim cleared his throat, squirming like a worm. “Right. Well, when did this-”

“Sister!”

Lauren came sprinting out of the house, squealing as if you were her favorite person in the world. She wrapped you in a hug and planted multiple kisses on your cheek. When she pulled back, she finally noticed Roy.

“Oh. Roy. What’re you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Lauren,” he muttered through his teeth.

Your sister turned to you. “What happened to mystery boyfriend? I was so looking forward to meeting him,” she pouted.

You laid a hand on Roy’s stomach, pulling him close, pretending as if you did this all the time and not just in your dreams. “Well, I’m not sure introductions are necessary, considering you’ve known him forever,” you joked, hoping your tone was light.

Lauren looked as if she was doing a difficult maths problem. “I’m sorry, Roy? Your mystery boyfriend is Roy? As in, known him our whole lives, football phenomenon, used to chase you around the backyard with spiders Roy? That Roy?” Her eyes darted to Jim, who looked just as confused. “Are you joking?”

“Absolutely not,” you lied. “You said I could bring a date. I told you I’d bring my boyfriend.” You nodded towards Roy. “There he is. Is there problem or can we grab our things?”

That superior smile your youngest sister often wore appeared. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She judged Jim. “Love, could you send someone to grab their things?”

Roy rolled his eyes with one of his familiar groans. “Just tell me where the fucking room is. I can carry my own shit.” After a quick look from you, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, just a bit tired from the drive. And, if we’re being candid, kind of want to get this one alone for a bit before dinner, you know?” A kiss landed on the top of your head, painting your face a deep red.

The bride and groom both gawked at you, as if waiting for one of you to shout that you were kidding, that you were pathetically alone and that Roy was leaving. When neither of you did, Lauren cleared her throat. “Right. Um, when you go inside the housekeeper can show you where to go.” She turned to Jim. “We should go, er, check on that thing, right darling?”

Jim nodded, his eyes on you. “Right, right.” He offered a small wave. “We’ll see you later then.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Roy looked down at you, eyebrow quirked. “Well. This’ll be a fun weekend, hmm?”

[itsokayimalifeguard]

Ok so we’ve all collectively agreed that episode 5 blew our minds and walker and leah ate that shit up, like i know legally they don't pay rent BUT RENT WAS DUE.

What I really need to word vomit about is how well this episode tackles both Percy and Annabeth’s fatal flaws.

Percy: Loyalty

Percy has literally spent the last 4 episodes absolutely shitting on poseidon for being an absentee dad (go king)

Poseidon helps him one time (ONCE) and all of a sudden he is putting his all in this quest, he genuinely cares about it, almost as much as he does getting his mom back from the underworld.

Literally Percy will be loyal to the death as long as he is shown like a drop of loyalty, so much so this boy literally tries to sacrifice his life again in this ep, for the quest he only just became invested in??

Annabeth: Hubris

They really put my baby through a lot this episode.

I just HAVE to say my piece im sorry, but the way the tunnel of love completely fleshes out her pride and hubris in ONE SCENE, legit one line of dialogue

She was READY to get in that chair

Percy clocked her so hard when he said “You’re better at this than me.”

And because yeah he’s not wrong, she is the best hope for this quest succeeding, she lets him sacrifice himself and then IMMEDIATELY REGRETS IT but uh oh it's too late

This is just the perfect depiction of Annabeth “strongest warrior at camp” Chase’s first instinct may be to do it all on her own because she’s grown up thinking that’s how it has to be “eat or be eaten” but this line of thinking costs her. :(

Anyway, the percy jackson and the olympians brain rot is real.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (14) (End)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, fluff, angst, trauma, panic attack, mention of rape, indecent student-teacher relationship ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

After everything that had happened between them, he needed a moment to put it all together in his head, to realise that he had crossed a line, that from now on he was not a slave to his trauma. He got close to the girl he desired, experienced fulfilment with her, and although he wanted more he knew this was a good start.

For the next few nights, they only kissed and cuddled, however, her constant presence calmed him, when he fell asleep snuggled into her, no more nightmares woke him up. Finally, he slept peacefully through the nights, realising with relief that the worst was behind him.

Or so he thought.

And then he saw her.

She almost bumped into him running out of his workshop, apparently trying to escape before she met him, but it was too late − he stood in front of her and just froze, her scent, the same one he had smelt then filled his lungs again, and he felt small again, felt like a nobody.

Her look of terror and uncertainty, her pale face told him at once that she remembered that night perfectly − she passed him quickly, and he felt as if some circuit in his brain had stopped working, his heart pounding like mad.

He could see her, he could feel her, he could feel her everywhere, as if she had coated him with her essence, like a sickening slime that he couldn't wash away.

Then he felt the same twitch in his stomach and he understood, understood that his body reacted this way because when she did this to him it was the fact that he vomited that saved him.

His body identified this reflex as protection, wanting to disgust him in the eyes of the other in case of danger, to deprive anyone of desire towards him.

Everything that was happening to him, everything he was experiencing, everything he couldn't cope with, only came from the fact that he was perpetually afraid that someone would touch him again.

He literally ran into the bathroom, barely managing to kneel in front of the toilet before he vomited, feeling the tremors and the cold sweat on the back of his neck, the convulsions that shook his body and the emptiness in his mind made him realise that this was the strongest panic attack he had experienced in his life since he was raped.

He was scared, scared like a child and he thought with shame that he wished he was in his mother's arms, that this time again no one would save him, no one would come.

He shuddered when he heard her desperate voice.

"Professor."

He vomited again, feeling the spasm in his stomach, his trembling hand leaning against the cold tiled wall, trying not to fall over, feeling the hum in his head and the loud pounding of his heart. He heard her knocking firmly on his cabin door, breathing fast.

"Please. Please, please, open." He heard her pleading, heartbroken voice, but he was unable to rise.

He needed her, wanted her to come inside, to embrace him, to stroke him, to whisper that all was well, that she was there for him, but he was unable to move, trembling all over.

"Is it her? Just tell me, is it her?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out loudly, lowering his head, covering his face with his hand, despairing that yes, yes, yes, it was her, his nightmare, his trauma, his grief, the reason for his unintentional suffering, his depravity, his aggression, everything he didn't want to be.

He drew in a loud breath when he heard her suddenly leave, turning over his shoulder, wiping his mouth with his hand, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"Wright?" He asked in a low, trembling voice, but only emptiness, nothingness, answered him.

She had left.

Why?

Why now, when he needed her?

He began to weep like a child, hiding his face between his knees, distraught, lonely, lost, not understanding how she could just leave him like that, unable to calm himself, knowing that only her touch, only her words would be able to soothe him, only her scent, but she was gone, she was gone, gone, gone, gone like his mother.

And then suddenly it dawned on him.

He got up quickly with a pounding heart, opening the door, turning on the tap quickly, rinsing his mouth and washing his face. He turned off the water and ran out of the bathroom, peering into the workshop and noticed to his horror that she was not there.

Cregan wanted to approach him, apparently expressing his displeasure at this unannounced visit from strangers, but he didn't have time for that.

"Not now." He said lowly and moved on, fearing what his imagination was telling him.

She followed her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What for? Who asked her to do this? What was she trying to prove to herself?

Alys would find out they had something in common and destroy them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

FUCK!

His thoughts were a conglomeration of chaos, horror, anger and madness, the students scattered to the side seeing the expression on his face as he left the building.

And then he spotted them. They were standing by her car.

He thought he was going to kill them.

That he would strangle them both with his own hands.

After a moment Wright turned and moved towards the entrance, her head lowered, she was pale. He pressed his lips together, reaching out to meet her, her surprised, terrified look betraying how afraid she was of his reaction, that she knew she had done something she shouldn't have, that she had crossed a line.

He gripped her arm tightly, squeezing her skin painfully hard.

"What have you done?" He asked low, coldly, threateningly, feeling that he could really do something to her now, feeling like he was more feral animal than human. She, however, answered nothing, merely shook her head, her lips trembling, her brow arching in pain.

He knew that look.

Always this crying.

"Who the fuck let you interfere? Hm?" He growled menacingly, wanting at last to squeeze any answer out of her, a reason why she felt she had the right to do so.

"Don't touch me." She mumbled, struggling to push him away and simply ran off, locking herself in the toilet.

Terrified students stood around them, whispering amongst themselves, but he thought nothing of it, looking over his shoulder at the door behind which she had disappeared.

Don't touch me.

He felt a tightness in his throat and a cold sweat on the back of his neck at the thought that she didn't want him anymore.

He loved her and she didn't want him to touch her.

He felt his anger turn into something else, overflowing in his heart into passionate grief and despair, a longing for her and for her touch, a need to feel her, only her.

He was a nobody and he knew it, but still he hoped he had a chance, that he had changed.

He moved to follow her inside, closing the door behind him, hearing her loud, anxious breathing in one of the cabins. He approached her and knelt down, seeing the outline of her shoes and her trousers, her hands hugging her knees. He could feel his heart pounding hard, how desperate he was.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry." He muttered helplessly, not recognising himself or his voice, sounding more like a boy than a man, a child who begged for attention, for comfort, for not to be rejected, to be given another chance, that he would be better, that he would be good now.

"− the sight of her − I − and you talking to her − I was furious − I need you − please −" He choked out in a trembling, breaking voice, thinking only of the fact that he had to touch her, touch her, touch her, slipping his hand under the door, and she squeezed it immediately, her soft fingers clenched painfully tight on his skin.

He felt relief, felt a pulsing in his trousers, felt that he wanted her, that he needed her, immediately, now.

He heard her draw in a loud breath, her voice trembling in the air as she spoke her words, terrified.

"− I'm sorry − I wanted to protect you − not to be that person who doesn't react − but I guess I just ruined everything − I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry −" She sobbed, and he clenched his eyelids, squeezing her hand tighter and crying himself, feeling some kind of relief.

She had done this for him.

I wanted to protect you.

I wanted to react.

Then, in his room, no one helped him.

But she followed her out, bravely trying to show him that she stood behind him, that she would not let this woman get close to him ever again.

He wanted to say something, to show understanding, that he appreciated it, but he heard suddenly, horrified, that someone had entered and realised that he had just knelt in the women's toilet. He was relieved when he heard Wright quickly open the door to her cubicle and let him enter, closing it behind him.

He looked at her for a moment − her soft face swollen with tears, her large, warm eyes filled with affection, concern and regret, her pink lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath. They were both quiet, listening as the girl who had come inside washed her hands, but his thoughts were focused only on her and what he wanted to do to her.

He wanted to feel her.

As much as possible.

When they heard the sound of the door opening and closing he approached her with a pounding heart, turning her lightly with her back to him, pressing her against the cold tiles, sliding his hands down to her trousers, undoing her button and zipper, feeling how hard his heart was pounding.

"Slide them down along with your panties." He instructed her in a low, hoarse voice with a kind of certainty and determination that shocked him himself.

He was not afraid.

He saw no scenes in his mind, no memories, nothing.

His mind circled as if looped around only one thought.

He had to feel her.

Now.

As deeply as possible.

He watched with slightly parted lips as she obeyed his command, trembling all over, and he undid the belt of his trousers.

"Lean forward." He said matter-of-factly and she obeyed his command without a word, her hands and cheek pressed against the cold tiles, her lips slightly parted.

He unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers slightly, looking at her face, not at her buttocks or what was between them, not wanting to give this a purely sexual, fleshly, perverse overtone.

No.

He just wanted to feel her.

With his whole self.

"− I need it − okay? − fuckin' need it −" He muttered with some kind of embarrassment, knowing that this wasn't how it should go, but he couldn't help himself, he needed her, he needed her this way, he needed solace and relief, a refuge deep inside her.

That was why he clenched his hand on her hip holding her in place, the other directing his swollen, hard manhood to her wet entrance, feeling how hot she was, how much she wanted him.

He felt her body, her tight, fleshy walls resisting him as he began to push its tip between her slit − they both sighed low, trying to muffle the louder sounds, trembling and panting.

"− oh fuck −" He moaned low, surprised at how intimate and private it felt, how exposed and vulnerable he felt in front of her, suspecting that she felt exactly the same way. He could hear only the loud beating of his own heart, only his own breathing, no thoughts, no memories.

Now he was the one taking what he wanted.

At the thought of it, he grasped her hips in his hands and spread her thighs the way a fruit opens, seeing how sticky she was with her juices − he thought that she really was his Eve, that she was made for him to taste her in every way possible.

He slid deeper into her, wanting to experience her warmth and she mewled loudly, surprised that they were really doing this, that he had no intention of withdrawing.

He knew that she had given him the initiative completely, that he needed to do it the way he wanted, that only then would they both finally experience what they craved. He hushed her, listening with a pounding heart to hear if by any chance someone had come inside.

"− quiet − want to get caught? − hm? −" He asked lowly, sliding fully into her with a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe, her body wonderfully squeezing him from all sides and pulsing against him, making him feel pleasure even without any movement.

The sensation was something completely different from what he had experienced then; she was tight, hot and sticky, inviting, desired, his.

Being inside her seemed strangely natural to him.

They both started moaning and panting when, with involuntary, subconscious movements, he began to rock his hips, with sure, rough thrusts pushing her tight insides apart, as if he wanted to make her feel that this was where he belonged, deep inside her.

He conquered her, stretching her, fitting her to him, feeling waves of pleasure surge through his body.

"− oh, yes −" He heard her quiet sigh and felt his cock pulsate hard at the thought that he wasn't like her, he wasn't like Alys, that he wasn't taking her against her will, that she desired him and wanted to feel him deep inside her.

That thought made him start to slam into her faster and more confidently, taking more and more pleasure from this close-up, just thinking about the fact that this was really happening, that he was doing this, that he was fucking the girl he loved, whom he desired.

"− do you like it? − like it when your professor fucks you good? −" He hissed out, tightening his fingers on the soft skin of her hips, wanting to hear more of her sweet sounds, more of her helplessness, a sign of how utterly vulnerable she was against him, with deep, brutal thrusts opening the way to his own fulfilment inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled with difficulty. He involuntarily grinned hearing that she was barely able to get the words out − he slid his hand between her thighs, his fingers easily finding her puffy little clit, with sure, circular motions rubbing her folds with the quiet click of her moisture. He heard her squirm loudly, a shudder went through her whole body.

"− yes, what? −" He growled, wanting to force her to give him what he wanted. He knew she was only teasing him and it turned him on even more, the pounds of his hips into her weeping cunt seeming more natural to him than breathing, as if taking her, fucking her, was written into his very being.

"− yes, Professor −" She gasped out, and he groaned low, feeling her words in his cock, knowing that just a few more pushes and he would come, do what he thought was impossible for him.

He was panting loudly along with her, feeling how from the motions of his hand around her bud her insides clenched against him, sucking him inside, her hot, wet muscles refusing to let him go, their naked bodies slapping against each other quickly with a sticky clicks.

"− that's what Adam did to Eve − his sin − then, under the Tree of Knowledge − he fucked her −" He breathed out into her ear as he leaned over her, as if he had experienced a daze, as if it was obvious that the first man had discovered pleasure in the first woman, that it was his destiny to have to unite with her, to feel her, to take her for himself.

He heard her struggling to stifle a moan of delight at his words, her fingers clenched tightly on the cold tiles, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a sweet, quiet sob, so wonderfully innocent. He felt like a man in paradise who discovers for the first time the meaning of pleasure, the meaning of the forbidden fruit, that which was never meant to be his.

In that moment they were both nothing more than a panting, hot, sticky mess chasing their fulfilment, her rough, slick core clenched tightly against him driving him mad, giving him sensations more wonderful than he had ever been able to give himself with his own hand.

He thought she was made to take him in, to have him inside her.

"− made to warm my cock −" He cooed tenderly with some kind of awe and affection, feeling those wonderful spasms in his lower abdomen and parted his lips feeling that it was coming.

"− fuck − m' gonna cum − where I −" He mumbled out horrified, realising that there was such a thing as pregnancy, awareness and responsibility.

"− inside me − m' takin pills − please −" She mewled, and he breathed a sigh of relief, allowing himself to finally feel the wonderful relaxation and pleasure, simply coming deep inside her as if it was the most natural, ordinary thing in his life.

Stunned by the sensation, he didn't understand much of what was happening, moving mechanically inside her for a long moment, moaning embarrassingly loudly, able only to thank God that no one had entered the toilet at that moment.

"− God, yes − baby − oh, fuck −" He mumbled, feeling the relaxation, the pleasure, the fulfilment wonderfully rippling through his lower abdomen, calming him, silencing all the voices in his head, leaving only the emptiness in his mind that he so desperately needed.

He moaned low and gasped when he heard her sobbing, and her walls began to squeeze against his still hard cock in orgasm, her whole body trembling before him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture running down her legs.

He stared at the spot where they were joined, breathing unevenly, realizing at last what he had actually done, only now coming back to earth. He swallowed loudly and licked his lips feeling his mouth go dry, his heart starting to pound like mad.

He felt terror and euphoria at the same time, but he didn't panic because he couldn't really see or feel anything that reminded him of that state.

She was not naked, her body was still covered by her T-shirt, the only thing he could look at was where their bodies met. He could feel her insides with all of him, but it wasn't like her insides, back then − she was tighter than her, her warm muscles enveloping him on all sides, making him feel safe.

It wasn't she who took him, it was he who took her, he forced her body to surrender before him, he forced himself deep into her like an animal, taking what he wanted, stretching her with himself, filling her with his seed.

He swallowed loudly at the thought that this time he might have been the one to hurt someone and felt a shudder run through his whole body.

"− are you okay? −" He asked quietly in a trembling voice hearing that she was merely breathing with her eyes closed, afraid that she might be about to burst into loud sobs or pretend that nothing had happened so as not to aggravate his condition even though she herself felt bad.

He heard her mutter quietly, parting her eyelids as if he had awakened her from a half-sleep.

"− yes − and you? −" She asked softly, and he breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down, resting his forehead against the top of her head, pressing his nose into her coconut shampoo-scented hair.

He had become addicted to that smell and told her to only buy that shampoo now, he associated it with her so much.

The moment she walked into his office for the first time and stepped uninvited into his heart.

He pressed his lips together, ashamed that it felt good, that he felt safe and at peace at last, that here, in this cramped cubicle, being deep inside her, no one could hurt him.

"− I − fuck − it feels so good to be inside you − doesn't want to take him out −" He muttered in embarrassment, dreaming only of staying inside her for a while longer, of not returning to reality, to what awaited him outside the door.

"We can stay like this for a while longer if you want." She whispered, and he just leaned in and kissed her neck, trying to calm his breathing.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wanted to tell her.

That he hadn't done it out of a pure, animalistic need to spill his seed in some woman.

It was something caused by a feeling that almost overwhelmed him, filling his chest with heat.

"I love you." He whispered softly into her ear and felt her tremble all over, her insides clenched tightly against his half-soft manhood. He licked his lower lip, feeling a cold sweat at the thought of what he should do.

"Will you come with me to the rector?"

The rector of the university greeted him coldly in his office, unhappy that anyone had paid him an unannounced visit, however Wright's presence at his side piqued his curiosity.

He knew that sooner or later one of the students who saw their aggressive exchange in the corridor would report to him that he was harassing a female student again, only making the whole affair worse.

He thought about all this for a long time, and even though he decided that he would only do it as a last resort, he felt that there was no going back, that it could only get worse.

"I came to give my resignation." He said as soon as the three of them sat down, Wright and he threw him quick, horrified glances.

"I am in a relationship with my student and I do not want to violate the good manners of the university in light of the events that have taken place here recently. I am submitting my resignation in person, I have also emailed it to you from my phone." He muttered lowly, letting the air out quietly, feeling his heart pounding hard.

The man seemed completely shocked − he shook his head, looking at him then at Wright.

"Is this some kind of unfunny joke?" He asked, but his cold, resolute gaze told him it was sadly not.

He was deadly serious.

"I want to end this amicably and leave without scandal." He said softly and glanced at his student, who covered her mouth with her trembling hand, looking at him with big eyes, tear after tear running down her rosy cheeks.

She didn't want him to do this.

But he was already tired.

He didn't have the strength to hide.

The man grunted, twisting in his chair.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked dryly, and he glanced at him with an indifferent expression on his face.

"We've been together for about a week." He replied truthfully. "It's a fresh case and I don't want it to affect my testimony in court."

The man gave him a stern, warning look. He pointed at him with his pen, which he held in his left hand.

"I can agree. But you will not say my name during the trial." He said coldly. He furrowed his brow, tightening his lips in fury.

"I'm supposed to protect you even though I've reported Jason's behaviour to you several times? They'll be asking me why I didn't say anything to the rector. They'll know someone is lying." He growled, unable to believe that his own boss, the head of the university had just blackmailed him.

"Say the word and everyone will know why you left. They'll find out how your student earned her place in your workshop." He said warningly, not taking his eyes off him, and he swallowed loudly feeling a squeeze in his heart.

He could hear Wright breathing loudly beside him, terrified, and he thought he couldn't do that to her.

"I won't mention you."

His students and Cregan took his decision with disbelief. They asked what had happened, why such a sudden decision.

He explained to them that he had long intended to open his own private studio, to operate on his own in a place where no one would judge him, and that he would be happy to invite them to work with him once they had graduated.

Cregan took it the worst − he took him aside and locked himself in the office with him, standing in front of him with his hands shoved in his pockets. He did not look at him, thoughtful, biting his lip.

"You and Wirght are together, aren't you? Is it because of that?" He asked lowly, glancing up at him, and he felt a tightening in his heart at the thought that he really had been his friend all these years, that he knew him like no one else. He nodded, not wanting to lie to him.

Cregan grunted, massaging his chin with his hand.

"I'm glad. She's a good girl. You both deserve to be happy." He said and held out his hand to him, which he shook gratefully.

"Thank you for everything."

It was the rector's decision that he would supervise them until the end of the semester so that they could hire someone to replace him from the new academic year, however, unofficially the workshop now belonged to Cregan and he was the one who would grade the students.

As a result, Wright was able to stay with them and although she cried loudly in his arms that evening, they were both relieved too.

"How do you feel? After what happened between us." She asked quietly, lifting her gaze, clearly wondering if he regretted what had happened. He swallowed quietly, considering her question.

"Fine, though I regret doing it this way. I think our first time should have been more tender and thoughtful, that I deprived something of myself and you. On the other hand, I don't know if I would have been able to break through if I had planned it. Because of what happened I wasn't thinking soberly and it happened…naturally. No less, I'm not sure it was a good thing. I feel that I took it out on you and used you." He whispered and kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his cheek into her hair, stroking her back steadily. He felt her snuggle into him tighter, the warmth of her body calming him.

"It was unexpected, but I needed it too. I think that although it may not have been ideal, it helped take away the tension at the thought of not knowing if we'd ever make it or break through. Now that it's behind us I feel like a big stone has fallen from my heart." She said quietly, and he hummed, playing with strands of her hair between his fingers.

"Yes. So do I."

He felt excited when he and Wright went to see the place he wanted to buy to set up his studio. It was located on the ground floor and looked like a small hall, there was plenty of space − with his eyes he could see where he would put the glass firing furnaces, where the tables would be and where the grinding machine, glass dividers, cabinets and chairs.

Wright approached him and he felt her slip her hand into his, which he squeezed gently, stroking her palm with his thumb.

"What do you think?" He asked low and heard her smile.

"I like it. It's bright and spacious here." She said lightly and he murmured under his breath, putting his arm around her and kissing her hair.

He felt warm at the thought that, above all, they were friends.

That he could talk to her about anything.

The interrogation in court by Jason Lannister's lawyer had been as nightmarish as he had guessed. Jason made sure to pull all the cards from his sleeve to discredit him as a credible witness.

"Is it true that you used physical violence against one of Professor Lannister's students?" He was asked by a young, deliciously confident man in an expensive suit lifting his chin as if he was sure he was going to destroy him, that he had him in a huff. Aemond looked at him impassively.

"Yes." He replied matter-of-factly. The man raised an eyebrow.

"Please explain to the High Court what you did, Professor." He said.

"I slapped her."

Several people in the room moved, exchanging words in whispers − he saw Lyanna's sad, guilt-filled face, a few benches away sat Wright, scared and devastated.

"How come you weren't expelled from the university after this incident?" He asked lightly, circling in front of him like a vulture, but he decided he wasn't falling for this cheap manipulation.

"That's not a question for me." He replied coolly. The lawyer bit his lip.

"You are testifying against my client today, however, you yourself were in a relationship with one of your female students. Isn't that right?" He continued, pulling out his strongest card. He pressed his lips together, feeling angry that he was dragging her into this, but he had expected this question too.

"We're still together and I resigned my position as soon as we decided it was something serious."

"And how long did you sleep together before you decided that it's something serious? Was it how your student secured a place in your workshop, where up to that point you had only accepted men?"

"Objection." He heard the prosecutor's voice on the other side, behind which the victims sat. "This is not relevant to the case."

"Of course it, after all…" The lawyer started, but the judge interrupted him.

"I sustain the objection, please ask the next question."

Lannister's lawyer swallowed loudly, furious.

"You said that you perceived some disturbing behaviour towards Professor Lannister's female students. Why did the you not report this anywhere?" He asked him ironically, and he thought he didn't give a shit.

Wright told him she wasn't afraid, that people could say whatever they wanted about her, as long as the people who allowed it all to happen were punished.

He thought that, for once, justice had to be done.

"I have reported these behaviours to the rector of our university many times, but he has done nothing about the matter. He and Professor Lannister are good friends from back in their university days." He said coolly and heard the commotion in the hall again, this time greater, and smiled with satisfaction to see from the look on Jason's lawyer's face that he did not suspect he would say that, that the rector must have assured them he would not mention him.

"Are you suggesting that the rector of your university knew about these situations and did nothing about it? Am I understanding correctly?"

"I am not suggesting that. I know that."

When it was all over Wright fell into his arms and they stood like that in the corridor for a while, his face pressed into her hair. All he could focus on was her pleasant scent and the warmth of her body, feeling his hands tremble, his heart pounding like crazy.

"You were so brave."

They had to wait until the next hearing for the court's verdict, but he knew he had done what he could. Afterwards, Lyanna approached him and thanked him for his efforts − they shook hands and he thought that he had finally atoned for what he had done, for his thoughtlessness.

They decided to loosen up that evening and just order a pizza, not having the strength to cook or clean up, tired after a day full of emotions, feeling at last that they had this difficult phase behind them.

From that moment when he took her in the toilet they had not had this kind of sex − he was satisfying her with his hand and she was satisfying him with her mouth.

He touched her more and more boldly, his hands slipping under her T-shirt to clench on her soft breasts or buttocks, sometimes pulling up her top just to suck and lick her hard, swollen nipples, covering them back immediately.

He couldn't break through to undress each other, to see her completely naked.

He wasn't sure he would be able to overcome the sight of her in his mind, he knew it would probably end in a panic attack.

He had an urge to feel her again, to be inside her again, but his fears were confirmed − when he thought soberly his mind was filled with unpleasant memories and he lost any desire.

He preferred not to do this to them and to provide a form of intimacy that did not evoke any of his negative thoughts.

Her mouth was able to do wonders − he trusted her completely and relaxed, allowing her to suck and lick his cock, all swollen with desire, her hand squeezing with a sure motion the part of his manhood that couldn't fit down her throat. He then looked at her adoringly, stroking her hair, breathing loudly with pleasure, coming wonderfully hard every time.

He decided one day to finally taste the forbidden fruit.

"Today, I'm the one who wants to kiss you there." He muttered one day, turning her on her back, meeting her surprised, embarrassed gaze.

"− I − you don't have to −" She mumbled, and he hummed under his breath, slipping the material of her panties down, her thighs covered from him only by the material of her Tshirt.

"− I know −" He said softly, sitting down between her thighs, gripping them in his hands, spreading them out as if he were tearing the flesh of a fruit.

He didn't think much about what he wanted to do, enthralled by this ungodly sight, her moisture flowing from her puffy slit down her buttocks to his bedding.

He sank his face into her hot flesh, hearing her loud moan as soon as the tip of his tongue ran over her throbbing, soft folds. He was breathless with pleasure, feeling the taste of her wetness spilling over his palate, something so forbidden.

"− oh, God −" She mumbled out, her hands involuntarily reaching into his hair in an attempt to push him away, his motions and caresses clearly driving her mad.

He tightened his hands on her plushy thighs, pressing his face harder against her hot flesh, his nose teasing the bud hidden between her folds.

"− fuck −" He exhaled, thrusting his tongue deep inside her, delighted at how intimate the sensation was, that he was literally eating her and what flowed from her body like sweet nectar, feeling her muscles clench around his tongue.

He ran his tip over her upper wall, right where he squeezed and massaged her with his fingers, bringing her to the state where she was just a babbling mess begging to be fulfilled.

"− yes − please, Professor, right there −" She exhaled delightedly, her body arching backwards like a string, loud, pathetic whines ripping out of her throat each time he rubbed the sweet, rough spot hidden in her flesh with his tongue.

He murmured lowly at her words, with the loud, slurping sound of her wetness rubbing his tongue against her walls, pleased that she had learned to address him properly in bed − he could feel that his cock was completely hard, pulsing painfully in his sweatpants.

"− that's it − that's my good girl − c'mon, your Professor wants you to cum on his face −" He cooed softly, and his words were apparently enough to make the tension in her lower abdomen peak, because he heard her loud, surprised cry, and then she came hard, her opening leaking from her moisture that ran down her thighs.

He licked up everything that flowed out of her as if he hadn't drunk anything for months, thirsty, delighted at how intimate and intense this sensation was.

He rose up on his knees, panting heavily along with her, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her with satisfaction − her eyes were closed, her lips parted in accelerated breathing, her hair spread around her head in disarray.

She was so beautiful.

He licked his lips, thinking about the fact that he felt like it.

That he wanted to cum inside her.

She opened her eyes when she heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and swallowed loudly as she saw him slide his trousers and his boxers down a little, revealing what was underneath.

She thought he wanted her to take care of him now and tried to sit up, but he pushed her down onto the bed again.

"− no − keep your hands on either side of your head − just like that, good girl −" He praised her, brushing her lips tenderly, one hand having a tight grip on her wrist, the other guiding the fat head of his cock, already dripping from his precum to her hot, sticky entrance.

They both moaned as he pushed himself into her and slid in a little, his hand from his manhood instantly clenched on her other wrist giving him the reassurance that she would not touch him.

"− spread your thighs wide - yes, just like that, let me in −" He murmured in a trembling voice as he felt her legs open in front of him, allowing him to slide right into her with one smooth, steady thrust of his hips.

They both groaned, feeling how much they both throbbed, her insides oversensitive and slick after her orgasm.

He began to move inside her slowly, looking down at her beautiful face, her cheeks red from exertion, her swollen lips parted in sweet, innocent moans from which his heart squeezed. He intertwined the fingers of their hands, leaning over her, their tongues meeting each other in a sticky, wet dance.

"− just like that − so warm − so tight −" He exhaled, unable to stop himself, slamming his cock into her more violently, faster and deeper, his naked thighs slapping loudly against her buttocks, wet and sticky from her moisture, making just one big mess of them both.

"− please, Professor − please, cum inside me −" She mumbled into his mouth between one loud kiss and the next and he groaned low at her plea, so arousing and kinky, stemming only from her natural instinct.

"− have no fear − your Professor will fill you with his seed − such a dedicated student −" He muttered delightedly, speeding up his pace, clenching his teeth on her lower lip, feeling his fulfilment approaching, his cock stretching her tight muscles with each brutal thrust, tearing her flesh apart, her fingers clenched painfully tight on the skin of his hand.

"− please − please − please −" She begged and finally he sighed wearily, feeling his body refuse his obedience − he felt relief and heat surging through his body as he cum at last, his warm semen spilling deep inside her little cunt.

"− fuck yes − God − so fucking good −" He mumbled out delighted by the sensation, by the fact that they had really done it, this time the way it should be, the way he wanted it to always be.

Only when he calmed down did he let go of her wrists and lay down on top of her, still deep inside her.

"Can I embrace you?" She asked quietly in a trembling voice, afraid to move. He nodded and she immediately enveloped him in a hug, one of her hands in his hair, the other stroking his back.

He hummed with contentment when he felt her warm lips on his temple.

"I love you. I love you very, very much." She whispered and he opened his eyes as he lifted his head to look at her. They kissed tenderly and gently, his hand trailing down her cheek, his heart filled with nothing but peace, nothing but affection.

"My Eve."

______

This is how I end this series − probably one of the most important for me. The problem I discuss in it, the problem of dealing with the effects of rape or sexual harassment after many years, is something extremely difficult and tedious, with no simple answers or easy solutions. Will Aemond be able to look at Wright naked? Will he ever let her ride him? In my opinion − no. Some things are too difficult, too painful and you don't want to experience them again. However, would this be a reason for them to despair? I don't think so − that their joy will be an intimacy that is unique to them, their own, with their own rules that suit them, that make them feel safe and comfortable. I don't know if it's possible to heal from trauma − this is a question for experts, which I am not − but I know that it can be alleviated, with the help of a loved, understanding person, to push it so far to the back of the mind that it will finally stop interfering with everyday life, to regain balance.

So despite the fact that Aemond remains partially powerless about his own weaknesses and memories, I consider this ending to be very happy, because in my opinion he is like that too − before Wright he was unable to bear the thought that any woman could touch him in any way, and there comes a point where having sex with her is something pleasant, wanted and safe. Full of respect and love.

Thank you all for such a warm reception of this series.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

[crazyk-imagine]

Mended Relationships and the Future

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Ted Lasso, Coach Beard, Keeley Jones, Jamie Tartt, Rebecca Welton, Isaac Mcadoo, Colin Hughs, Sam Obisanya, Dani Rojas, Jan Maas, Roy Kent, literally all of the players (I just can’t think of their names) Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of pregnancies, mentions of reader not taking care of themselves (don’t do this), Jamie being sweet, reader and Jamie being dummies for a second, the team being so goddamn adorable, the team gives such family vibes, Jamie pretending the reader and he are engaged so he can stay with her, Ted and Beard are a powerful duo, this is my favorite TL fic that I’ve written Word Count: 3,783

A/N: Bits and pieces are based on this post

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

You walk into the coach’s office with your hands in your hoodie pocket, clutching onto your phone to keep your hands busy. "Why did you wake me up and force me here, Ted?" 

"That's not a can-do attitude." 

Your expression doesn't change, if anything, you look more tired and drained. Another reason why the mustached man got you out of your home. "Ted." 

He sighs. "I wanted to check in on you, haven't seen you in a minute." 

You sigh. "I would prefer it if I were in my bed right now to be honest with you." 

"After we go out to lunch." 

"I want to be out of here before I run into..." You pause when you almost say his name. "You know what- I'm just- I’m gonna go." You barely turn around and hear the door open. 

It takes you less than a second to duck, which makes Ted feel a little bad but doesn't change his mind. 

He knows you two need to talk, especially when neither of you want to admit who broke up with who... or why it happened. 

Your emotions take a toll on your body again and you crawl towards the trash can, dry heaving until you feel it coming up (again). 

Beard kindly closes the door before anyone could walk in or hear you as Ted rubs the space between your shoulders. 

"How long have you been feeling like this?" 

You shrug. 

"How long?" He asks again. 

"A few weeks." 

Ted glances over at his long-time buddy with wide eyes. "Please don't get upset or take offense when I ask this but have you-" 

'Play dumb. Play dumb.' "Have I what? Use words, my brain isn't functioning off your noises." 

"Is there a possibility that you could be, you know, with child?" 

Your head snaps up. 'He knows.' "Why would you ask that?" 

"You have a few of the signs." 

"When was the last time you went to a doctor?" Beard chimes in. 

"A while ago." 

"So, you know?" 

"Whether or not I'm pregnant with my ex-boyfriend’s baby, who coincidentally told me he doesn't want kids just as I wanted to tell him I do. Yeah, it was right as I was about to tell him I am with child, which is why I've been dodging all of you but you and Beard here," you point to Ted's sidekick, who waves. "Dragged me out of my house." 

"Oh, honey." 

"Does he know?" Coach beard intervenes (again). 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, you wanted to tell him... did you?" Ted politely asks. 

"He broke up with me, so I didn't give him my surprise, but I tell people it was mutual because he asked me if," the tears roll down your cheeks. "If it was okay. The fucking ex-cockiest player of all, asked me if I was going to be okay, so of course I said yes and then he left. We haven't spoken since." 

"He should know." 

"I know but he is scared to death to have his own kids. Why would I-" You scoot back and rest your head against the wall. "I want to go home. I have a few things coming later today and I need to be there for them. It’s time I start," you take a deep breath. “Getting things ready.” 

"We can get those later, I've gotta make sure you're okay right now." 

"I'd be better if this nausea, vomiting combo would go away." 

"Do you want me to have Keeley get you a ginger ale or something?" 

"Yeah." 

The door opens and there she is. She stares at you with the same look she gives you every time you throw up. "I had a feeling you were going to need this." 

-

Jamie sees what he imagines is a glimpse of you sitting in his coach’s office. He furrows his brows, wondering if it was really, you or if it's a figment of his imagination... again. 

It wouldn’t be the first time this week. 

-

"What?" She practically screams when Ted tells her on behalf of you, the Jamie not knowing part; she already knew you were pregnant, but she thought he knew and decided not to be in either of your lives. Now she feels a little bad about not being nice to him. 

You bury your head in your hands. "Shut up. Don't shout anymore, please." 

"Can you blame me? That's big fucking news babes. I thought he already knew." 

"Yeah, I know. Just, shut the door please." 

She doesn't, so you push yourself up and close the door. 

You sway as you take a step back, “oh, boy.” You can hear their voices but not hear their words. You feel yourself falling backwards before it fades to darkness. 

Ted and Beard catch you, carefully laying you down so the latter can call for an ambulance. 

Jamie steps closer to the office, sensing something’s happened. He opens the door and his jaw dropped as he’s about to ask what's going on until his eyes land on you. 

He immediately falls to his knees beside you, holding your face in his hands, not caring about the rug burn that’s going to ache later. "What happened?" 

No one responds. 

"What fucking happened?" 

Ted doesn't feel he should be the one to tell him and does all that he can to try and calm down his player. "She's fine, she probably didn't have enough to eat for breakfast, is all." 

"Bullshit. She's done that before and never fainted before." He stares down, studying your face. "So, why is she fucking unconscious?" 

-

You don't know anything that happened within the last few hours. 

All you know is that there is an annoying beeping sound coming from the side of you and your one hand is warmer than it normally is. 

You slowly open your eyes, blinking multiple times as you try to adjust to the lighting. You look for the source of the warmth and find Jamie, holding your hand with his head rested on his arm with his head facing you. 

The door opens and you find Ted peaking in. 

The way his shoulder sags in relief makes you feel bad. 

He tiptoes closer and lets you know what happened. 

"Why is he here?" 

He smiles as he peaks over at the sleepy man. "He didn't leave your side." 

"How did he know?" 

"He came in as we were calling for an ambulance. You scared him, he would barely let the paramedics help." 

"Isn't family only allowed in here?" 

"Apparently you two are engaged." 

You owlishly blink. "What?" 

"He said you two were engaged and he needed, no, no. That's not right, he demanded, there it is. He demanded to be in the room with you. I wasn't here for most of it. In the room I mean but I think he knows because he looked very shocked and then came in here when they told him he could and hasn’t left since." 

The coach ignores the fact that your heart monitor spikes as you ask, "he knows?" 

"I think so." 

Jamie moves a little in his sleep. 

"That's my cue to leave." 

"Wait- no. Ted. Come back." You glance between him and Jamie. "Ted," you hiss. "Come back here." 

Jamie squeezes your hand as he slowly begins to wake up. 

You look back at him just in time to hear the door close. You throw your head back and sigh. 

"Sweetheart?" 

You slowly turn your head to stare at him, your eyes becoming sad. 

His shoulders sag in relief as a slow sigh escapes his parted lips. "How are you feeling? I should- I should go get the doctor, shouldn't I?" 

You reach for him, grabbing onto him before he could leave. "Jaim. Jaim?" 

He doesn't turn around but settles back into his seat. 

"Jam-Jam?" 

A sniffle fills the room. 

"Jamie, look at me." 

He shakes his head. You tighten your grip on his arm, ignoring the familiar burning sensation in your nose. "Jamie, I need you to look at me." 

"Why?" He sniffles, staring at you with his now, bloodshot eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"Don't throw that question my way, Tartt." 

"No more, Jam-Jam?" 

"I was going to tell you." 

"What? After the birth?" 

"I'm more tempted to now." You wipe the stray tear that tipped past your eye lid before he could see. "I initially planned on telling you right when you broke up with me but, we see how well that turned out." 

“Wh- is that what you had been trying to do the whole time?” 

You nod and lean forward, drawing him into you; needing to comfort him and be comforted all at once. 

He moves closer to you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand against his face; something he hasn’t felt in what feels like, forever. He hadn’t realized you were wiping away his tears. 

“I wanted to figure out the best way to tell you because, I mean we hadn’t exactly talked about us having kids before and I kind of figured that with everything that went on with your dad. I thought it was going to make it hard for you to think that you could be a good dad. Which, I think is stupid.” 

He opens his mouth to ask what you mean until you continue. 

“I mean, how could you not be a good dad because personally I think you’d be absolutely fucking phenomenal.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod, “big time. You’re already doing better than your dad.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile and sniff. “You’re not making any of the stupid decisions he has.” 

“I made one.” 

You tilt your head. “What was that?” 

“I broke up with you. I just-” He pulls back from you (something he does when he feels like he’s undeserving of something). “I thought- I thought you were pulling away to break up with me and you couldn’t figure out how to do it, so I-” 

“So, you thought breaking up with me first, was a better option?” 

He nods, scratching his head. 

“Come closer.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he weakly argues. 

“Come here.” 

He scoots the chair closer. 

“I need you to be honest with me when I ask these questions, okay?” 

He nods. 

You sigh through your nose and reach for his hand. “Is there any part of you that does not want to be a part of either of our lives?” 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be with me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to leave any time soon?” 

“The fuck do you take me for? I’m not going to leave you ever,” he stands up and bends down, staring into your eyes before leaning down to kiss you. “Okay? I love you too fucking much to let you go again. I hated being away from you.” 

“Same here but, I’m really happy you’re here… even if it was because I fainted.” 

“Speaking of, why did that happen exactly?” 

“I- well- I hadn’t had anything-” 

“Let’s just cut the bullshit, have you been taking proper care of yourself since we were separated?” 

You shamefully shake your head. 

He doesn’t show his disappointment, but you know it’s there. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. Isn’t that- crying is stressful on the baby, ain’t it?” 

“Not so much- I mean, maybe?” 

“Okay, well.” He grabs your hands, bringing your attention to him. “Let’s take a few deep breathes so we can calm down for Baby Tartt.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Do do do doo.” 

“Listen to you. Guess I rubbed off on you, eh?” You roll your eyes, not believing that for a second. “Does any of what you’ve said within the last two minutes sound anything like what your dad could say?” 

“Not in the least bit.” 

“See, exactly. It further proves you’re different and how much you’ve grown from the cocky man who couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

“Hey. That’s someone we don’t speak of.” 

“Of course,” you salute him. You two can barely keep your amusement to yourselves and break into a fit of smiles and giggles. 

He stares at you, watching as you wipe your cheeks and leans up, kissing your forehead before placing his on top of your head. “I was,” he hesitates to finish his sentence. 

You nod and cup his cheek, letting him know you’re there, a simple gesture to let him know you want to hear what he has to say. 

“-so scared when I saw you lying there unconscious.” 

Your heart drops at the way his voice cracks. “Jaim. Jaim. Look at me.” 

He shakes his head. 

You don’t push any further and instead opt for bringing him closer, letting him rest against your chest, squeezing you in a hug. 

It takes a few minutes before Jamie manages to calm himself down enough to revert back to your adorable boyfriend. “Oh, shit. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?” He asks, now scared to touch you. 

“No. You didn’t.” 

You hold out your hand for him, “do you trust me?” 

He nods, “’course I do.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

He slowly inches his hand closer and closer to you. 

You huff and reach for him. “Are you ready?” 

He doesn’t move or make a noise as you place his hand over your belly. “Am I supposed to be feeling anything?” 

“Other than knowing the fact you are going to be a father soon enough, no. I’m not that far along for us to feel any kicking.” 

He bends down as a breath of relief escapes him. “Thank god, I thought I was supposed to feel kicking or something and I didn’t, which scared me the hell out of me because I thought he already hated me.” 

“He?” 

“I mean, hello,” he gestures to himself. You roll your eyes and take your hand back from him. “You’re so going to be cursed with girls.” “How can you say that?” 

“Have you met yourself?” 

“I have and we’re actually quite happy together, sorry for the late notice, sweetheart.” 

You close your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. 

Ted peaks his head in through the door. “I see you two have talked things out? Hopefully, if not. No pressure. Well, maybe a little seeing as I have everyone waiting in the hall.” 

“Everyone?” You repeat. 

The coach nods. “Give me second.” He looks back over his shoulder, pretending to count, “one, two, four. Yep, everyone.” 

You place your hand on your forehead. “Suddenly the thought of everyone knowing makes me nauseous.” 

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” 

You turn your head and look at your favorite person ever… for now. 

“If we can get through the team being little shits and the press making unnecessary comments about our relationship, we can get through the team knowing.” 

“We can?” He gives you an affirmative nod, “we can.” 

“We can.” 

“Atta girl.” 

“Alright, guys. They said okay,” Ted waves everyone in. 

“I suddenly realize how many of you there actually are,” you comment. 

Sam, Dani, and Colin chuckled. 

“As captain, I feel like it’s my duty to ask,” Isaac leans closer to you, talking to you in a softer tone than his normal one. “How are you?” 

You smile, “I’m better now.” 

“Good, that’s what we like to hear. Ain’t that right, team?” 

“Yes, coach!” 

“And now I’m scared.” 

“Oh, don’t be scared especially when you’re carrying a special bundle of joy,” the mustached man points out. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Something the matter, Roy?” Ted asks. 

“Yeah. She’s carrying Tartt’s baby.” 

“I’m pretty sure they covered that topic back in school but continue.” 

“There’s going to be a baby brought into the world soon.” 

“Yeah?” Ted glances over at Beard, who shrugs. 

“With his blood coursing through its veins,” he points to your ex-not-ex-boyfriend. 

It’s quiet for three seconds before everyone groans and rolls their eyes, they think about what it could be like with a baby Jamie. 

“Hey, hey now. Let’s not think about something as crazy as that because this baby is a good thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jamie whispers, glancing back at Ted, not letting go of your hand. 

“Yes, it is,” the coach nods. “You’re going to go through one of the many joys life brings you.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Fatherhood… that, may or may not mix with a lot of uncles and two aunts who decide they want to spend time with the little booger.” 

“Would one of those many figures happen to include you, coach?” 

“No,” Ted shakes his head. 

“Not at all, Beard.” 

The door opens and heads turn. 

“Hi, I’m just here to-” The nurse takes note of the number of people in the room. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask anyone but the father and mother of the child to leave.” 

“Is it not believable that a woman could have this many boyfriends?” Jan asks. 

“Shut up.” A shoe aimed at his head, hits the wall and lands on the floor with a thud. 

The guys decide it’s time for them to leave, which lets you two see the few things the team has gotten, and it makes you tear up, freaking Jamie out. 

And he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but it was really nice of them team to do. 

“Should we open some presents?” Ted softly asks, placing one in your lap. 

“Didn’t the nurse just kick you out.” 

“I’m your dad.”

 “We’re your dads,” Beard adds. 

You glance over at Jamie. 

He shrugs, not completely hating the idea of having these two around. “I would’ve liked to know about my new parents beforehand. What’s next? Roy’s my uncle.” 

“No, he’s a granddad more than anything,” Jamie chimes in. 

You wipe your cheeks and smile at him before gently pulling the tissue paper out of your way. You pull out a onesie that looks normal, until you unfold it and inspect it. You sniffle as you hold it up for Jamie to see. 

He doesn’t realize why you’re crying until he reads what the back of it, “Tartt 9”. He doesn’t feel the tears trickling down his cheeks until you wipe his cheeks. 

“Jaim?” 

He shakes his head and pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head, over and over again. 

Ted smiles behind his phone. 

“We should probably give them some time alone.” 

“You think?” He asks. 

Beard nods. 

Ted sighs, “okie dokie.” 

They hold their hands up to wave, only to find your face squished against Jamie’s chest, barely able to wave them off. 

You and Jamie wind up opening every one of the other gifts, enjoying each other’s company after being apart for so long. 

“I think we should name it Jamie.” 

“Baby Tartt is not an it, it’s a baby,” you argue. 

“And we’re not naming them Jamie.” 

“Why not? It’s a good name.” 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad name but, we want our little pumpkin to be able to grow into their own, right?” 

“We-” He sighs, thinking about it, already knowing you were right. “Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

“Was that everything?” 

“I don’t know.” He glances over, finding a bag left on the floor, partially hidden so you couldn’t find it unless you were really looking. He grabs it and sets it in your lap. “What do you think it is?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug and move it closer for him to open (feeling you’ve done enough of the unveiling with presents). 

He pulls a figure out of the bag. “A bike?” Jamie brows furrows together in confusion until he thinks about it. The light bulb goes off in his head, everything clicking together, and he smiles. 

“Is there a card?” 

“I hope so.” 

Now you’re confused. 

He pulls out what looks like a plain index card. “Free one learn how to ride a bike pass.” He chuckles. 

“I’m lost.” 

“Remember how I told you I had something funny I wanted to tell you a couple months ago, but I couldn’t because the shithead was making me train, even though Ted gave us the night off.” He huffs and sits back in the chair. 

“Okay, I don’t need the background information, just give me the synopsis.” 

“Right,” he straightens his back. “I taught Roy how to ride a bike in memory of his granddad.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah,” he nods with a smile. 

“And he let you?” 

“Not without trying to hurt me but I did it.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yea- really?” 

“Of course, I’m proud of you. You taught the world’s grumpiest man how to ride a bike and lived to tell the tale.” 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course, I’m right.” 

“I hope the baby doesn’t get your cockiness.”

“My cockiness? What about yours?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” 

“You lie.” 

He fake gasps and slaps his hand on his chest. “I take offense to that.” 

“I’m not sorry.” 

“You should be. We don’t want this one’s first word to be a lie.”

“It wouldn’t, don’t be mean,” you whine. 

“I’m not. I’m just being me.” 

“Yeah, and that’s mean.” 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

You start folding a few of the blankets the guys got, feeling the need to do something. “Hey, look. They got one with sharks.” 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” 

“Girls can like boy things too.” 

“Do you really want to be asked if we have a boy or a girl every day.” 

“Don’t be mean.” You smile, holding it close to your chest. “I like it. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo. Baby Tart, do do doo doo.” 

He groans, “please stop.” 

“Never.” 

You stiffle a yawn. 

“Come on,” he takes away the few things on your lap and blanket from your hands. “You need to rest.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

He smiles at the whining tone in your voice. “I know but it’ll do the two of you well.” 

“Fine,” you tell him with a pout. “But sit by me. I… I’ve missed you.” 

“How can I say no to my girlfriend?” Jamie settles beside you and lets you lay against his chest. 

As you sleep and he’s bored, searching through the hospital’s shitty channels, he stumbles upon something interesting, an old childhood show he used to watch. 

You open your eyes to hear the song you briefly sang earlier. 

“Doo doo. Baby Tartt, do do doo doo.” 

“Jam-Jam?” 

“Hey,” he clears his throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better. What were you doing?” 

He shrugs. 

You smile and snuggle back into him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

[samuelsdean]

The Cure to Injuries

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 1.8k

author's notes: this is the first fic i have ever written since my stay on wattpad during grade school. so, forgive me for any mistakes & cheesiness that bled into it. spencer is too cute and he deserves more softness in his life. anyway, i hope you'll enjoy what you're about to read as much as i enjoyed writing it. i hope you'll like & reblog if you find this fic good. please do tell me if you want me to write more because i will! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

GROWING UP, YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN YOU WANTED TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP PEOPLE. The first job you thought of was becoming a teacher. However, you realized that making lesson plans and dealing with naughty kids weren’t your thing. 

The next one was becoming a lawyer. But, you’ve had enough of seeing your dad being buried in paperwork and your family telling you, "You’d be a great lawyer! You literally enjoy debating with everyone."

Then, you thought of becoming a doctor. You were good at science, and you found the human body interesting. That was your dream until you had to see your friends vomit literal bile on the sidewalk and have their stomachs pumped after a night of drinking. After that, you didn’t think you could deal with vomit and other possible human excretions in the future.

Luckily, one sunny day, your brightest idea of what you wanted your future to be like finally came to you. You wanted to work for the FBI. You’ve always been a bit too interested in criminal justice, but at the same time, you wanted to fuse it with your interest in science. So, you’ve decided that becoming a profiler is your end goal.

You just didn’t think about how becoming one could involve getting bruised and battered, possibly even shot at and blown up, and you most definitely didn’t think that the most effective cure to a bruise is a gentle kiss placed on it.

"Ow! It’s good you aren’t the medical doctor kind of doctor because your patient would definitely file a complaint against you." 

You huffed and puffed, as you gingerly sat on the ambulance, accompanied by your co-worker, Dr. Spencer Reid. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as he continued prodding you for other injuries. 

The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU, has been your workplace for almost four years now. You never thought you’d get here after you realized that you don’t only need brains to become a profiler but also brawn. Fortunately for you, you were too smart for the FBI to pass up on, and, well, you at least passed your physical exams—albeit barely but still enough to get to where you are now. Oh, the dream!

Where you are right now, despite that, is definitely not the dream. You were presently black and blue after being the one to take down and make the arrest of the unsub who had abducted children in Kentucky as surrogates for her deceased child. Despite your injuries, the day ended on a positive note. All the children are going home to their parents alive, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Well, that, and the incessant flocking of your co-worker, who just so happened to be the person with whom you have harbored romantic feelings for quite some time now.

"What you did was stupid, Y/L/N! You could’ve gotten killed, going in there like you’re bulletproof or something," Reid exclaimed, complete with the hand gestures and the word vomit when he’s excited or worried. "Did you forget what happened five months, seven days, and three hours ago? You got shot in the arm!"

In this case, you’re positive he’s about to pass out from all the talking and lack of breathing.

"You know, Reid," You chuckled in amusement and said, "I’m more concerned about you keeping track of the exact date and time I got injured. Are you sure you’re doing that out of concern for me as your coworker, or is it because you secretly have feelings for me?"

The doctor paled, his pouty lips opening and closing like those of a fish, swimming in the depths of the ocean.

"W-what?! What do you mean I have feelings for you?"

That made your heart twitch, and not in a good way. You knew the doctor couldn't reciprocate your feelings. He just happened to have a phenomenal memory. He can’t help but store random information; he has no choice but to remember. But, you can’t help yourself. A tiny part of you still yearns for him to return your feelings. Oh well, you’d rather have him as your friend than nothing at all. But, a little teasing won’t hurt, right?

"I’m kidding, Reid," you snickered, "I know you know that piece of information because of that eidetic memory of yours or whatever."

"It’s not just because of that, you know," Reid sighed.

That gave you pause. It seemed like your world stopped turning and nothing else mattered. It couldn’t be, you thought, there’s no way he likes you back. You’re you, and he’s this otherworldly guy. You can’t even believe he’s real.

"What?" You chuckled nervously, tugging at your ear gently, "What are you saying, Spencer?"

Spencer sighed and frowned, "I know I was the reason you got shot that day, Y/N. I saw the glint in your eye when you thought the best way to save me from getting shot was to push me out of the way and shield me. And that was a stupid move, by the way."

Your jaw dropped. You were about to say something, but Spencer beat you to it.

"Let me finish first," He said, raising his index finger as if to say I still have a lot to say, "It’s stupid because you almost got yourself killed. I was about to move out of the way when you covered for me and you got hurt! You got hurt, Y/N! How was I supposed to live with myself if you ended up dying that day because of me? How, Y/N?"

"But I didn’t! I’m here, Reid." You’re scowling now and about to rant Spencer’s ear off. " What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry I wanted to save you that day? Because I’m not!"

You know that what you did that day was incredibly stupid of you. What Reid was saying was true. You could have died that day, but you were too selfish to admit that. You were so selfish that you couldn’t imagine living a life without Spencer Reid in it if you hadn't pushed him out of the way and ended up hurting yourself for it. And you have had no regrets to this day about doing it.

"That’s the thing, Y/N," Reid was almost full-on shouting now: "No matter how much you end up getting hurt to protect the people around you, you don’t care! Did you really think I’d appreciate what you did for me if you ended up seriously getting hurt, or worse, dead?"

Your vision is getting blurry from the unshed tears now. You love Reid so much, but he wouldn’t get it. He would never see you as more than just a coworker. More than a friend.

"No, Spencer," you sniffled, looking directly at him now, "I know you wouldn’t have appreciated it if that happened. Call me selfish, but I care for you too much to ever let anything hurt you and regret what I did."

You stood up from where you were sitting and were about to head to the SUV where you could be alone before driving back to the precinct, but Spencer didn’t let you. He held your wrist, pulled you back, and groaned.

"God, you’re insufferable!" He exclaimed, "Don’t you get it? I care about you, Y/N!"

"I know, Reid," you smiled wistfully, "you care about me because I’m your friend."

"No, I don’t." 

This made you stop in your tracks and stare at him intently.

"I don’t care about you as a friend, Y/N. I never did."

"Oh."

Reid sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. "Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I don’t expect you to love me back—"

"I love you." This made Reid stop fully. "I have loved you since the day you talked my ear off about Doctor Who. I have loved you since that time I woke up in the middle of the night back in Atlanta and ended up knocking on your door because I couldn't go back to sleep. You told me you'd always be here for me."

"I love you, Spencer Reid."

Before you could overthink your sudden confession, Spencer held your uninjured cheek with his slender hand—and the next thing you know, he is kissing you. 

You couldn't help but gasp. You were startled by the suddenness. His lips were warm and soft, almost pillowy against yours. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Spencer's lips brushed against yours tentatively. The smell of his hair—like the smell of early mornings after a night of rain—was dizzying. He smelled so clean and fresh, like soap, with a hint of the smell of a new book.

You felt lightheaded as he swiped his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance, which you gave him. You could taste the hint of sweet coffee he drank just minutes before the takedown. You could feel the soft tickle of his breath and his fingers as he carded it through your hair while you breathed each other in.

You never imagined kissing Spencer could feel like this.

Regretfully, your bruised cheek was starting to take the brunt of all the snogging. You had to pull away because you were running out of breath, so you tapped his cheek. Spencer wasn't taking the hint at all, which made you giggle—cute. Having no other choice, you held both of his cheeks and pulled away.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, silly," you chortled; he's so cute. "I just ran out of breath, and my bruised cheeks hurt. It isn't your fault. Don't worry." You assured him.

Spencer sighed a breath of relief, which made you want to tease him.

"I know what can stop my bruises from hurting, though."

Eager to please you, the doctor was about to start searching for possible medical remedies to your injuries, not knowing you had something else in mind.

"You could plant a kiss on them." You grinned widely as you saw Spencer's neck start reddening, "I'm kidding, Spence," you said, "You don't have to—"

You didn't expect Spencer—of all people—to be the type of person who would shower you with kisses if you asked him, but he is. He started planting light kisses on the purple blotches on your face—not caring that anyone from the local police to your workmates from the bureau could see you. 

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N," Reid said, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he brushed his lips against yours once again.

You never thought the best day of your life would be the day you get injured. You never thought the best cure for cuts, scrapes, and bruises could be a kiss from the one you love the most—Spencer Reid.