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comicarc · 3 days

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𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Just a walk down memory lane. I just haven’t found many fics about Jason before he was killed, so I thought I’d write one.

wc: 1182

My first memory of Jason was when I first met him in the alley. I was strolling down the streets at night naive and oblivious to the dangers surrounding me. It was one of the few times I was carefree and ignorant of consequences. I felt so happy walking down a puddle-filled sidewalk. Homeless people left and right, the road lined with potholes and men running around mugging people. In this part of Gotham, this would be the best it gets.

It was drizzling and I was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. It’s almost never sunny in Gotham, but I was determined that today would be different. To my surprise, the day had been cloudless, but as evening approached the clouds began rolling in. Little me, holding on to the little hope I conjured, decided not to change or even grab a jacket before heading for my stroll.

By now I had managed to walk over five blocks to an alley. I heard laughter down the way and was curious enough, against my better judgment, to follow the voice. Nearing the origin of the voice I saw a boy about my age. He looked tired and beaten up, but his voice was full of pure joy. He wore a bright red, worn out hooded jacket. His jeans were tattered and his shoes had enormous holes in them. There was a small corner next to him with stacks of blankets and used pillows. Did he live here?

I walked up to him and asked, “What’s a boy like you doing out here laughing?”

“Can’t I laugh if I want to?” He retorted as he swung his body to face me. A knife pressed against my throat.

“I guess you can.” I gulped. I was not prepared for this to happen.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just out of habit.”

“I guess it must be a daily occurrence if you’re used to doing this by now.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many psychos run around trying to rob a child.”

“I bet.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not unless you want to meet people like me or want to get killed.”

“Maybe I like meeting people.”

He chuckles before nudging me to the opening of the alleyway. “Go home.”

He then proceeds to hand me his jacket seeing as I was shivering from the weather. I put it on after a few protests and he pulle the hood above my head. His touch felt rough but loving.

I was enchanted for a few minutes, staring deeply into his eyes until I replied, “Alright, but before I leave I want to know what to call my new friend.”

“Name’s Jason.”

“I’m y/n.” I said as I exited the alley and ran back home.

After that incident, I hung out with him in that alley all the time before he became Bruce Wayne’s ward. He became distant soon after he found a new family, but he still tried his best to wish me on my birthdays and congratulate me whenever I won or competed in competitions at Gotham High. I never realized it then, but his presence always lifted my spirits. Made me elated beyond comprehension. Without him, I don’t know what would have happened to me.

My favorite memory of him occurred as he attended a prestigious school around the time he was 18. We’d been distant lately, but I visited him every now and then. This night I decided I would go to his dorm and treat him to a night of relaxation. It was 9:00 pm, so he would most definitely have been awake, but when I arrived he didn’t open the door. After an hour or two of waiting, he finally greeted me and let me into his humble abode. Distraught by the reason why I had to wait so long, I questioned his whereabouts until he finally gave in.

“I was showering”

Completely flabbergasted I replied, “What the actual fuck Jason. Who takes showers for two hours?”

“Me.”

I laughed before taking the food I had brought out of the grocery bag and laying it out on his living room table. His body was definitely drenched, but not in water, rather sweat. I knew he was lying, but why? He was always sweet to me ever since we were kids. There was no reason for him to lie to me, he knows I would help through anything and accept all his endeavors happily.

Still, I wasn’t going to get mad over nothing, so as he proceeded to leave the room to bring blankets for us, I sat down and put on our favorite movie, My Bloody Valentine . When he comes back and sits on the couch I let him lie his head on my lap as we watch. The blankets cover Jason’s entire body and my legs, making the couch a makeshift bed and my lap a pillow. Unconsciously I begin stroking his head, and only realize it by the end of the movie. By then Jason had also fallen asleep.

It was one of the few nights he seemed at peace. We were so close, and I gained that he truly felt the world of me by trusting me. More than anything it was the night I realized that I loved Jason.

My most recent memory of him was the day he died. I was mad. No, I was absolutley furious. He never told me he was Robin. Did he not trust me? No, maybe he did it to protect me. Still, knowing would’ve been better than nothing. I had the right to know, not interfere but to at least know. Our relationship was longer than anyone else’s, and yet, he never trusted me enough to tell me something so important. Now he’s gone forever. I’ll never be able to hear his sweet words, bathe in his warmth, or even tell him that I love him. I will never have that opportunity again, all because of his damned crime fighting persona.

Today, on his birthday, I sit on the couch, playing My Bloody Valentine , with a cake set in front of me. It reads, “Happy Birthday Jason!” with one lit candle in the dead center. I looked at the clock with puffed eyes. I had been crying the whole night, reminiscing on past memories of Jason.

Right when the clock struck twelve I heard a thud come from the balcony of my apartment. Since I was alone, I prepped myself to confront the intruder. Taking the closest weapon I could find, I begin heading to my balcony. Outside, the light breeze makes me shiver. Holding the weapon with two hands I slowly approach the shadowy figure at the corner of my balcony. As I near, I see him wearing cargo pants and a leather jacket. The figure begins walking towards me. At this point I’m scared out of my wits as he comes close.

He pulls me into a hug before saying, “I’m sorry y/n. For everything.”

Confused and comforted at the same time, I question, “Jason?”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood #dc robin #gotham #angst #cliffhanger #some fluff

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clownsuu · 11 months

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I had to draw the guy, he's such a silly man. I'm going to burger him even if he's huge !!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SCRUNGLY SCRIMBLOOOOOOO

#ROBBIE IN 4K WHAT THE F A R T #SO QUIRKY #SO SOFT #SO BBGRL #AUGHHRHDHDHDHDGDHDH #I want to bITE HIS CHEEK LIKE H A M B O R GO R #THANK YOU SO MUCH GAMER G A H HE LOOKS SO CUTE;;;;;;;#I’m going to proceed to stare at this for the next two hours-#HAPPYHAPPYHAPPY #Atthispointishouldprobablyhavearobbietag-#Welcome home oc robbie #robbie robs

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euphoriaslux · 14 days

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we can’t be friends

summary: you hate vincent. vincent hates you. and yet somehow you end up in his bedroom.

word count: 4262( i… am so sorry.)

warnings: fem reader, smut(f oral receiving) vincent being a meanie, drinking and smoking, disrespect of the french justice system (désolé) me making head canons about vincent’s family life, some mischaracterization of sandra (ily sandra huller)

a/n: folks i was locked in when i was writing this, can you tell because it’s autocapitalized? i was Serious! this was supposed to be like a thousand words and ended up being 4k… i apologize i have to spread my illness (being my obsession with swann). i had SO much fun writing this i hope yall enjoy, all the reblogs on my first post make me all warm and fuzzy. drop some requests if you’d like, and im going to make a masterpost of all the fictional characters im obsessed with bc i’m chronically online. i’ve reread this like a million times so if there are any spelling errors i simply do not see. enjoy!!! <3

You cannot fucking believe you’re going to be late to trial.

Well, actually, you can believe it. Somehow, during the two hours of sleep you got last night, you managed to unplug both your alarm clock and your phone charger, leaving you to blissfully sleep through the multiple alarms you had set the night before. It was only when your cat sprawled across your face, her paws tickling your eyelashes as she eagerly awaited her breakfast, that your body decided to wake you up. An hour after you were supposed to.

Your methodically planned out morning routine for the indictment today was quickly replaced by you sprinting around your apartment muttering curse words under your breath and trying not to trip over the copious amounts of documents on your floor. You nearly cried when your tangled hair would not cooperate with you, but somehow managed to make yourself look halfway presentable. You didn’t have the time to be stressed today, especially because of the attention you know this case is going to get.

And because you knew you were going to see him.

After driving like a bat out of hell in the Parisian rain, violating multiple traffic laws, you somehow make it to the courthouse only one minute late. Jogging up the steps, you push the door open and yell out apologies to the bewildered lawyers and judges in the courthouse as you sprint against the browned hardwood floor, your briefcase thumping against your side in tandem with your heartbeat. Your eyes scan the chamber numbers and you breathe a sigh of relief once you find the one that matched the summons notice, pausing to smooth down your pantsuit set and pat the beads of sweat off of your forehead.

You push open the chamber doors as gently as you can, but you quickly realize there is no use as every head in the room turns towards you, gawking at you. Some have a slight frown on their face, looking at you with thinly veiled pity, but most have a clear show of annoyance. With your head down you speedwalk over to your team’s side of the chambers, pulling out a few labeled folders before you place your briefcase next to your seat. You take a deep breath and force yourself to look up, and right across from you is the defendant’s lawyer.

Vincent is wearing a black turtleneck and a matching black blazer, with effortlessly swooped gray hair and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks perfect, too perfect, in a way that pisses you off. He’s already staring at you when you glance at him, his mouth slightly turned upward as he leans over to talk to his client Sandra, maintining eye contact with you as his whispers in her ear.

“Glad you made time to join us Mademoiselle,” the judge says as she shuffles some papers around, using a few fingers to wave over a magistrate to her right, ostensibly for the indictment sheets.

“I am so, so sorry I-” you start before the judge moves her hand to wave you off, finally sparing you a sharp glance.

“Enough time has been wasted. Let us proceed, yes?” she asks, and you almost start to answer before you realize it was rhetorical. There are a few quiet laughs in the courtroom and you fix your eyes on your folder, feeling like a child who was just scolded in class for sneaking a cookie from the lunchroom. You feel Vincent’s eyes on you but you don’t dare to look up. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Sandra was indicted, of course. This case was going to be a media circus because of her literary career, and you knew this was not going to be an open-and-shut case. Part of you hated trials like these - when the media would decide an angle that they found the most titillating and not leave a single person involved alone until they got a headline that matched their narrative. Another part of you, a massive part of you, hated working with Vincent. You could just constantly feel the smugness dripping off of him, and with every snarky comment and reply you could sense the anger just drilling deeper and deeper into you. Each interaction you had with him managed to make you even more and more mad. At least you’d hopefully only see him for another couple of months.

five months later

Like clockwork, you stepped out of your taxi to be bombarded by reporters with an endless sea of microphones and cameras, a cacophony of aggressive voices yelling your way. You keep your head down and try to push through the crowd, noticing Vincent talking to a reporter with Sandra to his side. You hear a few words, noticeably about Sandra’s innocence and the ignorance of the defense, and that word makes you stop in your tracks. Reporters are asking you questions but you look for the first microphone you can find and start to talk, making sure to project your voice.

“Judicial integrity is what’s most important to me. Not a narrative, not a story. I took an oath to protect this country. Some people don’t take that seriously, but I do, and that’s what I am focused on.”

There is a sea of follow-up questions but you weave through the hoard of people to the top steps of the courtroom, making your way inside. You arrived a bit early to trial today because you knew Daniel, Sandra’s son, was testifying today. You couldn’t shake the unease you’d had all week knowing you had to cross-examine him, seeing his grief-stricken face as he heard the prosecution and defense make a myriad of accusations about the one parent he had left.

“Were you talking about me?”

Vincent’s voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see him staring at you from behind the court pew. You must’ve had a look of confusion on your face because he then clarifies:

“Outside, when you were talking to the reporter from Euronews. Are you implying that I don’t have judicial integrity?” he cocks his head at you, his eyebrows slightly raised. You shrug, grabbing the manila folders with notes from your bag and putting them in front of your seat.

“If the shoe fits, I suppose,” you say with a tight smile as you sling your bag from your shoulder to under your chair. Vincent scoffs, lightly brushing his hair out of his face.

“Right, I should have looked to the attorney who walks in late smelling like cheap wine for… integrity,” he emphasizes that last word, each letter feeling incredibly loud in the silent courtroom. You feel the heat rise from the back of your neck, both in embarrassment and fury. You take a step towards him and he doesn’t move, your faces only a few inches apart.

“Do you think you’re any better? You took this case because you are plagued with this superiority complex that you have to subject everyone to.”

“Hm, so being a good lawyer makes you think I have a superiority complex, good to know,” Vincent says, touching his chin in mock curiosity. Jesus Christ, this guy irritates you.

“No actually, I think I figured it out,” you say with a laugh, poking your finger at his chest.

“Is it because you used to fuck Sandra, and this is some weird fucked up sort of foreplay that you’re forcing us to watch? I wonder if there’s a tape in evidence, of Sandra telling her now-dead husband how many times you two had shitty sex.”

Your sentence sits in the air as the smirk falls from Vincent’s face.

“Do not project whatever bullshit you’ve created in your mind onto me,” he says, staring at you with an intensity that makes you start to squirm.

“You don’t know me, Vincent,” you turn to end the conversation but Vincent grabs your arm, turning you back around to look at him.

“But I think I do,” he says, and you are so close that you can make out the pack of cigarettes in his jean pocket through his cloak is what’s pressing against your thigh.

“I think you put on this show, that you are meek and timid, but it is all an act. Every movement of yours is calculated. Nothing you do has any underpinning of integrity.”

You feel tears well in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, opening your mouth to speak as the chamber doors open and members of the jury begin to walk in.

“Fuck you,” you tear your arm away from his grip and walk back to your seat.

four months later

It’s been two weeks since the trial ended. The chaotic hustle and attention has died and reporters are gone, with no more requests for comment or interviews on morning TV filling up your inbox. You were called to the courthouse to go over some documentation that the court needed to provide a final report on the case, arriving late on a Saturday night. You shudder as you get out of the taxi, the chill of Paris air sparing no part of your body. You wrap your jacket around yourself and sit on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath as you prepare to go into that same courtroom. You put your head in your hands and sit in silence for what feels like forever until a familiar voice breaks the stillness.

“Hey.”

You don’t move a muscle when you hear Vincent’s voice, hoping that somehow if you stayed completely still he’d believe you were a figment of his imagination and he’d leave you alone. Instead, he takes a seat next to you, the corduroy fabric of his trousers very gently grazing your skirt.

“If you’ve come to gloat, I’m truly not in the mood,” your say, your voice muffled by your hands over your mouth. Vincent says nothing but you hear him rustling through his pants and then the familiar click of a lighter, and you bring your face up to see Vincent taking a drag of a cigarette. He breathes out wafts of smoke, and after a beat, extends his hand towards you. You glance down at the cigarette and then back at him, and he is still looking forward at the architecture across from you. Plucking the cigarette from between his fingers you inhale deeply, tilting your head up to blow the smoke into the sky. You both sit in the quiet for a few moments as you smoke about half of the cigarette. He doesn’t seem to mind, or at least doesn’t say anything.

“How do you feel?” he finally asks, and you chuckle as you take another inhale.

“How do you think I feel?” you look to him and he nods, taking the cigarette from you. You try and ignore the tingly feeling in your stomach when his lips touch the same part of the cigarette that yours did, with no hesitation.

“Did you genuinely believe she was guilty?”

The question throws you off guard.

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly, bringing your knees up to rest your hands on top of them.

“I don’t often think anything is too personal in a court of law, but that phone call with Sandra and Samuel felt, invasive?”

“It didn’t seem like you had any qualms when you were questioning about it,” he questions.

“Well of course not. I wanted to win.”

Vincent laughs, a real deep laugh, and you can’t help but crack a small smile at the noise. You realize you hadn’t heard it before, at least not before it preceded an insult hurled your way.

“What do you mean, invasive?”

It’s hard to collect your thoughts on his question, and you are suddenly transported back into that courtroom, listening to that call.

“It was like I felt every molecule of anger, resentment, disappointment. I just felt like I was right there in the middle, taking both of their punches. Like,” you take a beat, trying to formulate your words.

“Like I was their son, with no vision of what was happening but so desperately aware of the anger in the air. And feeling guilty that I caused it, somehow.”

Vincent hums.

“I’m sorry with how often I pried, about you and Sandra,” your voice is quiet, and you pick at the straps of your heels.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. The feelings I have for her have changed.”

This time you hum, unsure of what to say. For the first time in your years of knowing him, you feel bad about possibly making Vincent uncomfortable. You’re not sure why. You sit in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before you stand up, brushing the stray tufts of cigarette ash that stuck to your skirt.

“Well, I won’t keep you, I have to go turn in evidence of my defeat” you gesture towards the papers in your hands. “And you have to go celebrate, I presume.”

Vincent stands up as well, flicking the cigarette onto the floor and stomping it out with his boot.

“No celebrating for me,” he says with his hands raised. You smile, and he does the same.

“How will you be … coping?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“Not sure, probably at home with a really cheap bottle of wine.”

His lips purse as he puts his hands into his pockets. “I guess I deserve that.”

You rock slightly on your balls and feet, not sure if you should walk away from him or not. You’re just about to step out of his way when he starts talking.

“I have a nice Pinot Grigio I’ve been waiting to open, if you’d, you know, like to … join,” Vincent’s voice gets quieter as he keeps talking, and you swear you can see a soft pink hue on his cheeks, but perhaps that was the night playing tricks on you.

“I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be,” he cuts you off. “I’ll wait for you out here?”

Vincent’s house - not apartment - was somehow exactly and nothing like what you would have imagined. It’s a one-story Victorian-style home with a dark exterior, but the inside is painted a warm yellow with tons of books littering the floors and walls and miscellanous trinkets and birthday cards tucked in between. There’s empty pizza boxes and wine bottles on the kitchen floor, and through his tall back window you can see a mini garden in his backyard, with vines of tomatoes and bushels of leafy greens sprawled amongst the grass. It looks very lived in - you can imagine Vincent waltzing around in the morning, reading his big law books with big glasses of wine, like the one you have in your hand right now.

The two of you are currently halfway deep into a bottle, talking about nothing and everything. The case, bad clients you’ve had before, your favorite pastry shops in Paris, the funny face that one of the Magistrates makes every time the Judge looked at him.

“Thank you for the wine monsieur,” you say with a dip of your head and an exaggerated bow.

Vincent shakes his head before taking a sip of wine, and you notice how the soft pink you thought you had noticed before has turned into a deep red from his forehead to his chest. Vincent being tipsy was such an odd thought to you that you couldn’t control your laughter, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you started to giggle incessantly.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Vincent giggles alongside you, and you shake your head no.

“The serious, smart lawyer is wine-drunk with the person he probably hates the most. I could not have imagined ever being in this situation,” you manage to collect yourself, putting your hand over your chest as you take the final sip in your glass and wave off Vincent as he motions to pour you another one.

“I don’t hate you,” Vincent mutters as he pours himself another glass of wine.

“You’re pretty good at acting like you do.”

He just nods. Suddenly the air in the room has changed, and it feels constricting. Like all of the arguments and venomous insults you’ve thrown at each other has coagulated in this massive living room

“I actually, um, envy you a lot of the time.”

“Envy me?” you can’t help your incredulous tone after his sentence. “You don’t have to say things to pity me, you know,” you laugh, but Vincent’s face is still serious.

“You are just naturally someone people want to spend time with. Even when you annoy me beyond belief, some part of me is always, drawn to you, I suppose. And I envy that. I don’t really know who I am without doing things for others.

You furrow your brows at his sentence. “What do you mean?” you lean over your chair to be a bit closer to him. He plays with the silver ring on his index finger.

“Sometimes I feel like the people I’ve loved, only want me when I can do something for them, you know? I mean, even my own mother, I remember- ” he stops to take a large sip of wine.

“I was almost done with primary school, and my Dad was gone on some inane business trip. I told her I wanted to go to a birthday party downtown, and that I wouldn’t be able to make dinner that night. She got so mad at me that she threw the bottle of wine she’d nearly finished at my head.” He swirls his wine glass around staring into it.

You put your hand on top of his, and he looks up at you, staring into your eyes before clasping his hand arond yours.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper. He shrugs, and before you can stop yourself, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a featherlike kiss against his skin. Vincent’s eyes are glassy, and he separates his fingers from yours to place his hand against your face, his thumb gently caressing your jaw.

“Do you have more cigarettes?” you ask, softening into his touch.

“In my bedroom.”

His statement - his ask - reverberates through your head as you both stare at each other, trying to discern what will happen next. Your thoughts are so loud that you’ve afraid that somehow they’ll extend out into the room.

is he saying what i think he is?

And normally, you would say a snarky remark about how he wishes he could get you in his bedroom, and how you’d rather die than see where he sleeps, but the wine has made you slightly woozy and all you can think about is how good he looks with his hair gently sticking to his face and his t-shirt tight around his arms, and what it would feel like to fuck him.

So you say “okay”, and leave your phone on the dining room table.

Vincent opens his bedroom door, moving to let you walk in first before closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to speak and before you can think your mouth is on his, and he’s shocked for a moment before he kisses you back, your lips melding together. You push your body into his as Vincent wraps his arms around your waist, his hands digging into your skin as he quietly moans into your mouth. Your intertwined bodies make it to the bed and he hovers on top of you, his hard cock pressing against your thigh and you reach down to touch him over his jeans, feeling him shudder against you. You pull away from him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” his voice is a little hoarser than it was before. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” you pull your shirt over your head and tug at the bottom of his and he laughs he does the same, and you admire his shirtless body as he reaches back down to kiss you again, but he’s not as gentle this time. He’s aggressive, dipping his tongue into your mouth and holding your face in his hands.

“So beautiful”, he murmurs, tilting your head so he can suck on your neck and graze his teeth against the bruises spot he left. “So much more beautiful than I imagined”.

Your head falls back on the pillow as you feel his hands reach behind your back and unclip the hooks on your bra, his mouth moving to your breasts and licking your nipples.

“You’ve imagined me?” you pretend to be bashful as your mouth falls into an o-shape, feeling Vincent’s mouth on your chest and his hands on . He moans and you can feel it throughout your whole body as you lean down to shimmy out of your skirt and underwear in one move.

“In every way possible,” he says as he dips a finger down, past your belly button and into your cunt. You’d feel embarrassed at how wet you are already if his hand didn’t feel so good inside of you.

“I’ve thought about what you would taste like, how you would sound when I first fuck you for the first time,” his mouth moves down from your chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your abdomen before he’s just above your heat and you sigh, involuntarily jerking your hips up. He puts his free hand around your lower stomach to hold you in place.

“But nothing,” he nips at the spot right in the crease of your hip, licking a long stripe just next to your heat.

“Could’ve come close to how pretty you really are.”

“Christ,” your hands grab fistfuls of Vincent’s sheets as his tongue finally swirls around your clit, pressing just a bit harder as he puts another finger inside of you. You can feel the pressure building in your lower stomach as you and Vincent’s grip on your stomach get firmer as you wriggle under his touch. He groans into your mouth as you start to grind your hips into him, fucking you faster with his fingers as he rolls his hips into the bed.

“Vincent,” you say with a gasp and grip his hair, pulling as you come around his mouth, your head dizzy with the feeling of Vincent’s tongue on you as he stares up at you from between your legs. He pulls his hand out of your cunt and licks his fingers before putting his mouth back on your clit, making you jump at the contact. You hiss as he licks the sensitive area, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you tug so hard on Vincent’s hair that you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but if you are, he doesn’t stop you. He interlocks his fingers across your stomach and holds you into place, groaning into your clit.

“Okayokayokay,” you move your hands from his hair to head to pull him up, your breathing labored as you try to get yourself together. He leans over to kiss you, his lips softly molding against yours as you wrap your arms around his back.

Breathless, you move your hand down to touch Vincent but he quickly stops you.

“It’s- um-”

You look down and notice the wet spot on Vincent’s boxers, and your eyebrows raise to the top of your forehead as you come to the realization that he came while he was eating you out.

“Did you-”

Vincent groans, hiding his face in your neck as you giggle, coming down from your high.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you thread your fingers through his now disheveled hair. “It’s kind of hot if I’m being honest.” Vincent looks at you with a questioning look but you just smile.

“Plus, we have all night to try again.”

You wake up in Vincent’s bedroom, with a few strips of sunlight peeking through Vincent’s closed blinds. You haphazardly reach over to his side of the bed to grab his arm, but find it empty, raising your head from the pillow to see that you’re completely alone. Vincent’s clothes that he had taken off during the night and tossed onto the floor were gone. You waited to see if you could hear Vincent in his kitchen, or in the garden, but you were in complete silence.

To be fair, he didn’t say anything last night to insinuate that he wanted a relationship with you, or even liked you. Maybe this was secretly a win for him - he could beat you in a courtroom, and now he got you in your most vulnerable state to declare that you actually felt something other than hatred for him. And maybe that’s all he wanted. You’re not sure why you expected anything differently.

You throw the blankets off of you and find your clothes neatly folded on his desk, and his courteousness manages to upset you even more. You put your clothes on and try to collect yourself, taking a few deep breaths as you walk out of his bedroom and out towards his kitchen. You scan the room for your phone, which you swear you left on the dining room table, only to finally see it on top of a note on the kitchen counter written in messy cursive.

“Went out for cigarettes and coffee.

Bringing back croissants and a capuc- cappuccino.

Will be back in ten.

Go back to bed.

V”

taglist: @ghostlytide

graphic credits: @glasvera

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #swann arlaud fanfiction #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x reader #swann arlaud x reader #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #vincent renzi smut #swann arlaud smut #smut #fanfic

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letsquestjess · 4 days

Text

One, Two, Throw (Hunter x F!Reader)

Summary: You look incredible throwing Hunter's knives, and he decides to show you just how irresistible you are.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Smut! 18+! MDNI! Fingering. It's Hunter-is-horny hour!

A/N: This is my first time writing smut and I'm a little torn between feeling proud and wanting to hide in a corner. Anyways, if people enjoy it, I'm down for writing some more.

-- -- -- -- --

“There you go,” Hunter encouraged, his touch on your waist warm and reassuring. His breath ghosted your nape as he leaned close to your ear. “Concentrate on the target and visualise it landing where you want to hit. Feel the weight of the knife, the way it balances in your hand.”

“If there was an enemy in front of me, they’d have got me by now,” you chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to offer him a mischievous smirk. “I know what to do, we’ve been doing this for hours.”

With an amused glimmer in the flinty brown of his eyes, he stepped back and signalled for you to proceed. He had to admit there was a certain charm to witnessing your determination. You had a particular look in your eyes, a fire that didn’t burn or destroy, but kindled the very core of who you were, and it brought him an indescribable joy.

You returned to the target as you shuffled your feet in the grit and lifted the weapon. Your stare lingered on the silhouette framed by the shrubbery of the back garden. Scratches and dints marred the pale outline, hitting almost every place other than the one you wanted. You’d even managed to land a strike on the groin, which had earned you an instinctive wince from the sergeant.

“Don’t strangle the knife,” Hunter cautioned as you were about to make your shot. “It needs to move.”

Coughing pointedly, you rolled your shoulders. Hilt over blade, it rotated and revolved until lodging itself into the wood inches from your intended destination with a deliberate twang. You let out an irritated huff.

“Keep trying,” Hunter said. “You’re getting better.”

“Seems like I’m getting worse.”

“You trust me, don’t you?”

As you recovered the knife, you granted him a firm nod and a warm grin.

Again and again you tried, each attempt glancing off the edge or striking a non-fatal spot. It felt as though you would never take it down. Despite any doubts, Hunter’s constant reassurances kept your confidence from faltering.

He asked a couple of times if you wanted to stop, but you adamantly refused. After all, you had suggested this to experience his world before he chose to settle down, and you were starting to understand him more.

He rarely spoke about the hardships he and his brothers faced during the war or the difficulties he encountered after Order 66. As curious as you were, you didn’t want to pry. Although you had been dating for over a year, you understood that lightly encouraging him to talk was more effective than poking at his past.

Hunter observed you with the intensity of a hawk, studying your posture, your fortitude, your concentration. By the stars, you looked amazing with a vibroblade in your grasp, staring down that wooden silhouette. Every time you squared your stance and locked onto your target, a flood of adrenaline travelled up his spine and exploded with anticipation as you unleashed your shot. In his ravenous gaze, you were magnificent.

Sneaking closer, he inched his hands over your waist as you readied yourself for your next attempt. His lips swept behind your ear, planting a trail of kisses on your exposed skin.

“Want to offer more tips?” you asked.

He shook his head against your neck and continued his ministrations.

“I see, you’re trying to throw me off,” you figured.

“In dangerous situations, there will always be distractions,” Hunter reasoned, his hips pressing into your rear and his enjoyment of the situation immediately becoming apparent. “You need to be able to block them out.”

“Oh, so the enemy will be getting up close and personal.” You gave him a tantalising, raised eyebrow, almost bordering on mean, the sultry lilt in your tone even more so. “Is that what you meant, sergeant?”

As if in a blur, he swiftly disarmed you, snatching the knife from your grasp and launching it. The vibroblade quivered in the chest of the wooden target.

Before you could catch your breath, he twirled you round and lifted you up, balancing you in his arms and latching his lips onto yours as he strode with purpose back into the cottage.

Your hands found purchase in his hair as he nudged open the bedroom door and lay you down on the bed.

“Such a tease,” he murmured, breaths intermingling between kisses.

His mouth moved slow and deep, savouring the scent of you and your mounting arousal as his tongue explored your lower lip and slid inside. Tasting him like this had you tilting your hips, and he let out a low chuckle as he guided them back onto the fluffy bedspread.

“Hunter,” you groaned.

“Do you have any idea how good you look with a knife in your hands? Never seen anything so tempting.”

When you searched his eyes, you found nothing but pure devotion in them, an unyielding desire to be by your side for as long as time allowed.

“You never gave up,” he continued, undressing you languidly and lavishing any stretch of skin he exposed. “I’m proud of you. You stood there, determined. Fucking incredible.”

His kisses grew hungry as he finished unclothing you and discarded his own clothes, throwing them behind him with reckless abandon. He’d clean them up later. For now, all he craved was you.

You smoothed his dark waves from in front of his face as he climbed back up to your lips. He slid his fingers between your breasts, massaging and playing with each in turn before he trailed lower. To say he was skilled with his hands would be an understatement; his caresses were gentle yet firm, creating masterpieces of bliss on your skin. With every inch of contact, your breath caught in your throat, a soldier’s hands but a loving touch, and a silent ‘I love you’ lingering within.

Need gripped you and your nails dragged down the ridges of his chest and abdomen, lifting your hips to get him to explore the one place that ached for his talents. This time, he skipped the teasing and dipped a finger into the wetness between your legs, finding his way to your clit. With each circle he traced, he delighted in the enticing sounds you made, grinning mischievously as you pulled away to gasp, your head pressed against the pillows.

When he gently slipped a finger inside you, your whimpers became moans. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back from begging him for more, but you did your best. You knew how he loved making you feel good and working you up for him, and you wanted to let him have this.

Hunter soothed the dip of your brow with a tender press of his lips, gazing at you as though you provided him with the air he breathed. He’d never tire of seeing you like this, sweat dappling your skin, body lifting and falling with each wave of pleasure. He craved to etch this view behind his eyelids to look at whenever he closed his eyes. “That’s it,” he whispered, spurring your rising bliss with another finger.

“I need…” You swallowed and released a purposeful breath.

“Tell me, sweetest,” Hunter cooed. “What do you need?”

His fingers worked their way in and out while his thumb circled your clit. Your core lit up and your hips chased the motion. You couldn’t stop it, even if you tried, and this time, he didn’t ease you back down with a steady hand. He let you grind against him, hunting that sensation only he provided as his hard desire pressed against your abdomen.

“Need you,” you whined. You brought him down for another kiss, determined for him to devour every single one of your senses.

“All in good time.” He curled his fingers and brushed that particular spot that had you panting and squeezing your eyes shut while his other hand prowled up and down your body in slow, deliberate caresses. His kisses turned feverish before his teeth nibbled at your throat and a rumble purred in his own.

He could smell you, you realised, the scent of your pleasure only heightening his own desire to sink into you.

The hunger within you built as he quickened his pace and your climax thundered ever closer. “Hunter, I…” you breathed. “I’m so…”

“Can feel it,” he practically growled into your neck as your pussy clutched onto him, the tip of his nose brushing yours with every thrust of his fingers. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

That was all you needed, those three words spoken with such security and tenderness, and the tightening coil in your core snapped. White hot seared through your veins and covered your body in pure bliss as he coaxed you through your high. As your pleasure reached its highest point, you gave a soft groan, your nails digging into his shoulders to ground you.

Hunter kept you afloat, his movements inside you slowing. He hushed your whimpers and kissed the corner of your lips as you panted. “That’s my girl. You good?”

“Better than good,” you managed to get out. “Maybe I should practice knife throwing more often.”

You smirked at the muffled vibration in Hunter’s throat as his eyes fluttered shut, and you could almost see the image of yourself wielding his knives imprinting on his mind.

“Later,” he assured you. “We’re nowhere near done here yet.”

I'm going to start a separate NSFW taglist since I know that it's not for everyone. If you would like to be added, feel free to send me a message.

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danishpastri · 1 year

Text

Happy Valentine’s

BTD/TPOF As Your Valentine

Strade

He’s surprised at first. You got him chocolates? Where did you even get them? The collar on your neck made it so you couldn’t leave, and you didn’t know your address.

He shrugs it off and starts eating the chocolates immediately. He almost didn’t see the note next to the heart-shaped box, but when he finally reads it.

He smiles, “Ah… I’m going to wreck them later.” He hums as he eats with his mouth full of chocolate.

“Ooh, this one’s filled with caramel.”

Lawrence

He’s starstruck

“H-Huh? Valentine’s Day? Uhm… thank you. I didn’t get you something though. I-Is that okay?”

He’s all red and nervous, constantly fighting with his hands as he stares down at the chocolates. He doesn’t want to eat them. They were a gift from you, and it would feel wrong to eat.

So he doesn’t… he never opens the box and lets it become a decoration piece, letting it rest up against a wall.

You make a reminder to yourself to just give him a card next year.

Ren

He’s so excited. He got you chocolates as well, fox themed.

He has a whole date planned with you. Movie time together is always fun with him, but he actually chose a romance movie to watch instead of the usual gore.

It’s a special day, one where you two can be together for as long as possible.

He’s also definitely going to give you head.

He’s between your legs with a knife against your skin, and he’s carving a heart into your upper thigh.

Rire

“Oh? You know, I have heard of a Valentine’s gift before, but I never thought I’d actually receive one.”

He’s gives you a small kiss. “I’ll make sure to keep this for as long as I live, darling.”

You and him then proceed to have a long night filled with red wine, a fine dinner, and love making.

You wake up the next day with bruises and bite marks littering your shoulders, back, thighs, and arms.

Sano

He got you flowers, roses with thorns. He gets down on one knee to give them to you.

He’s quite romantic, taking you out for dinner at a restaurant.

He bought you an outfit as well as one for himself. He wanted both of you to look as dashing as possible while you ate.

He’s holding your hand while you eat, making it quite hard to cut your steak.

Once you two reach home, you take a shower together then go to sleep.

But who says there weren’t naughty times occurring during that shower

Vincent

He’s astonished. He finds you laying in bed with new lingerie that he didn’t know you bought.

You don’t go on a date or anything fancy.

Just countless hours of breeding until all of your holes are leaking.

He does give you tons of aftercare, giving you a hot bath afterwards while he rubs you up and down with a towel.

Cain

He’s going to make you the nicest steak dinner in the whole world.

He’ll eat you out afterwards too. He gets two nice meals that day >;p

Lots of romantic shit. He gets in with you in your bathtub, makes you food, makes love to you.

All the romantic date cliches

Derek

You gave him chocolates? He’s not too grateful. You give him flowers? He doesn’t care.

“Oh? It’s Valentine’s Day? I didn’t know. Whoops, guess you aren’t getting anything ‘till next year.”

He doesn’t really care about the holiday, but he’ll still fuck you (he already does that practically every day though).

Celia

Just like Sano, she’ll take you out for dinner. She’ll wear a beautiful dress while she does; it’s black with velvet material, and it doesn’t show much skin.

She’ll bring you home afterwards and gladly sit on your face.

You shower with her after making love, and you both can’t stop touching each other.

You fall asleep naked while in each other’s arms and smiles on your faces

Mason

“Darlin? I’m sorry; I didn’t know it was today. I, uh… was planning to give you this on your birthday though.”

He hands you a wood-carved heart; although it’s not cute and stylistic. It’s an atomically accurate replica of a real heart but made out of wood.

He’s trying hard to be romantic. Just give him time. He’s used to only having murder on the mind.

You two will get chairs and sit by the lake, watching the sunset go down together as you hold hands and talk about your days.

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nom-nommmm1 · 1 month

Note

Hi Oli,

I love your Lords Of Chaos stories so much, so could you write one for me? :)

I was thinking about Pelle x Fem reader, where she's Euronymous sister, and they have to keep their relationship a secret.

Xoxo and also I just saw that you write for some niche fandoms I really love, I can't wait for more stories to come

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist

AHHH HI ANON!! I’m so happy you like my stories! You’ll never know how much it means to me 🫶 also I’ve had ‘dirty little secret’ by The All-American Rejects stuck in my head FOR A WEEK truly amazing timing anon. But anyways, I look forward to see you request other fandoms soon. Also I didn’t know if you wanted to make this a smut or fluff so I’m gonna do fluff bc I’ve been in such a fluffy mood lol, request another if you’d like smut and I’ll gladly do it ❤️

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, fluff?? There’s a suggestive part butt they don’t actually do it, kissing, hair pulling

The doorbell rings as the tussling of keys can be heard from Euronymous’ hands. “I got it!” I shout, opening the door to see Pelle standing there awkwardly. “Hey Pelle! You’re just in time, we’re all about to head to the movies” I say looking at the blonde haired boy, his cheeks turning a slight pink tone. “Oh yea uhm..Euro texted me” he says avoiding my gaze. He shuffles away from the doorway, letting Euronymous and I out. We all proceed to get into Euros car. “So are Faust and the guys meeting us there?” Pelle asks after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the radio.

“Yeah, they’re just gonna be a minute since traffic’s pretty bad on their side” Euronymous says, putting his foot to the gas as the light turns green. Pelle nods, staring out the window, looking around at all the passing cars. I look at Pelle, he looks..tired? “You alright?” I ask. The blonde looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised by me breaking the silence. “Yea I’m fine y/n” he says looking back out the window to avoid the conversation.

The car pulls into the movie theater parking lot, we all get out walking up to the register. “Hello, what movie are we seeing today folks?” The cashier asks politely. “Three tickets for the conjuring” Euronymous says, placing the money on the counter. “Of course, the concessions are inside” the cashier says handing us our tickets. Euronymous nods in acknowledgment, holding the door open for Pelle and I.

Walking up to the concessions counter Euro turns to us. “What do you guys want?” He asks pulling out a 20 dollar bill. “Popcorn and a slurpy?” I ask. “Sure sis, what about you Pelle?” He asks turning to the blonde. “Oh- I’m fine with whatever,” he says quickly, almost taken out of a trance. “Alright, you guys can sit down while I pay for this stuff” Euronymous says, pointing to the tables next to the bathrooms.

I nod walking over to the table, Pelle following close behind. We sit down. I look at Pelle, taking in his features as he refuses to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nothing y/n” he says moving out of my touch. Euronymous comes back with a handful of snacks. “Come help me get the rest guys” we all grab our own snacks and drinks. “Sorry you guys are going to have to share popcorn, I was two bucks short to get another” Euro said as we walked down to our designated auditorium. “It’s fine Euro” I say as we take our seats.

The theaters lights dim as music from the projector plays, the movie is finally starting after what feels like an hour of previews. I go to reach for the bag of popcorn accidentally putting my hand on Pelles, immediately pulling away. “Sorry” I say quickly before turning back to the movie. The movie continues on, the main character jumping out into the frame of the projector screen.

The audience chuckles as they say a joke as a criminal swings at them. I take a sip of my slurpy taking a brief glance at Pelle. I look away as I see his eyes look over to me. I lean to Euronymous, whispering in his ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back” he nods as I get up from my seat, walking down the dimly lit movie theater stairs.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing water in my face, starting to sob into my hands. After a few minutes I hear slight knocking on the bathroom wall, a figure slowly coming into my line of vision. The figure comes closer to me, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry we have to do this” the figure says. “What..?” I ask looking up, at first confused but soon my confusion is clarified as I see Pelle, still there rubbing my back.

Pelle frowns, wiping my tears away. “I can’t stand to see you cry, but you know why we have to keep this a secret, right?” He asks coming closer to me. I nod looking into Pelles warm brown eyes. “I know, Euro won’t allow it” I reply sniffling. Pelles frown grows and he wraps his arms around me, putting his head in my neck giving me a small kiss.

“Just wait a little longer, we can convince him” Pelle says brushing my hair out of my face. I nod again looking at him glumly. “Hey it’s okay, I promise” he says smiling, waiting for me to smile back but I don’t. Pelle then puts me into a kiss, my eyes widen in shock but I kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around Pelles neck. Pelle kisses me harder, putting his hands on my waist, picking me up. “Pelle!” I yelp feeling his hands on my ass, lifting me up.

Pelle places me on the bathroom counter, pushing me against the mirror as his lips attack mine. “I missed this” he mumbles into my lips, coating them with our saliva. I giggle pulling onto Pelles hair. He moans in my mouth, biting my lip and touching up on my body. He’s about to undo his pants before we hear a voice of a staff member. “Get out of there before I call your mamas!!” The staff member screams banging her mop on the floor. Pelle and I bolt out of the bathroom making out to our movie auditorium. “Remember, keep this between us” Pelle says before opening the door for me.

“Of course” I say walking in. “Alright, I’m gonna wait out here for a few minutes so they don’t think anything” he says giving me a quick kiss before shutting the door, smiling.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY BBS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY N THERES BEEN A BUNCH OF DRAMA W MY FRIENDS BUT IMMA TRY TO UPLOAD

Alt acc: @nom-nommmmworkspace

Taglist

╰┈➤@mxqlss @roseroseluvrr @bkaulitzz @adellaonly @m3tal-chick

#fluff #lords of chaos #nom nommmm1 #euronymous #jack kilmer #rory culkin #pelle ohlin fluff #pelle ohlin x reader #pelle x reader #pelle ohlin #pelle #lords of chaos x reader

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hades-in-bloom · 4 months

Text

Bitten Lips

a/n: happy Astarion brainrot—two silly blurbs for both Tav (#1, w/ Spawn A) and The Dark Urge (#2, w/ Ascended A) using the same keywords (see the title; like, also don’t ask how and why, pretty please). Summaries and additional warnings per blurb below. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

spoilers for Act 3

warnings & contents [for both]: depictions of self-harm (non-suicidal); mentions of blood; the reader could be any gender; Tav/Durge could be any race or class; age gap (hard not to with a 200-years-old vampire); could’ve been a headcanon

[1] : lucky one

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

summary [1]: Tav is nervous, and somehow it makes Astarion climb a wall.

+warnings & contents [1]: unadulterated comfort with a pinch of anxiety; silly bad habits driving Astarion insane; cheeky Tav

soundtrack [1]: måneskin — honey (are you coming?)

***

Astarion snaps when you bring wandering fingers to the bottom of your face again.

“Stop it,” the elf demands, mouth pressed into a thin line as he attempts to keep his frustration in check. You wince slightly, picking a string of dry skin from your wounded lips once more without realising the gravity of your actions.

“Sweet hells,” Astarion grumbles. “Why would you do it? It’s disgusting.” A bizarre mix of annoyance and worry is almost palpable in his well articulated voice. He’s seen worse sights, but you hurt yourself—that’s what he finds appalling.

As thin blood gushes out of a fresh rip on your lip, unadulterated guilt floods your essence instantly. You feel your cheeks heat up, and anxiety crooks your fingers, while you finally realize how sore your lips are since you kept violating them repeatedly in the past half an hour, agitated and a little bit overwhelmed. A prospective of turning into a mindflayer with no lips whatsoever soon down the line would make anyone nervous after all.

Astarion gives you a long stare, so you look away and mumble, “I’m sorry.” To be honest, you didn’t expect him to pick up on your silly bad habit; no one ever pays that much attention to it—there are always bigger problems to tend—but somehow he does notice.

Your tongue runs across your bottom lip, and you taste metal.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” The vampire frowns, his voice rising an octave. He frets, however hides the feelings behind a playful facade everyone’s been so used to. “Otherwise you’re ruining that pretty face of yours for no reason.”

He asks difficult questions, so you huff, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. You’ve never been great at talking about your feelings, bottling up your emotions deep down instead, where no one would ever think of rummaging.

“You didn’t expect me to always be a damned ray of sunshine, did you?” You revert your gaze to him reluctantly.

To be fair, usually you’ve smiled inappropriately often. If there were any expectations in this regard among the party members, you are the one to blame for it.

“Gods, no. Also, too much sun is bad for my health, so...” Astarion shrugs off your cynicism without a second thought. “You do you, lover.”

The pale elf’s stare lingers on you way too long for your liking, mildly unfounded uneasiness growing inside you. You want him to drop it; you want him not to care, when you don’t have answers for him. Of course, it’s too much to ask. You lose your patience at once, rolling your eyes in defeat.

“You won’t let it go,” you acknowledge, and his lips curl into a faint smile in response.

“I will if you stop doing that,” the pale elf retorts with a hint of desperate outrage as your finger innocently slides over your sore lip unwittingly, probing before the next torture.

You turn your obsession into advantage, and there’s a mischievous spark in your eyes. “I won’t be able to stop by myself.”

He catches up almost instantaneously, with his gaze fixated on your bloody, tortured lips now for all the wrong (or right?) reasons.

Astarion eliminates the distance between you two with a shameless smirk forming on his face—the smirk you knew quite well.

“Darling, aren’t you lucky,” his voice sings, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your bodies close, leaning forward meaningfully. “I might just be willing to help you out.”

[2] : broken one

Ascended!Astarion Ancunin x Consort!Dark Urge!Reader

summary [2]: Astarion’s partner falls a victim of their dark urges once again.

+warnings & contents [2]: Durge is durging; mentions of murder; mild descriptions of death; unhinged kisses; implied power struggle?

soundtrack [2]: bella poarch — villain and dutch melrose — runrunrun

***

Tonight the palace giggles in your voice, and It can only mean one thing. Astarion hears what you did well before he steps into the bedroom, blood champing under the sole of his exquisitely made shoe. Right there, in the epicentre of massacre, your figure is hunched over maid’s body, now lifeless. Her head hangs limply from your lap, while your twitching fingers are sorting through strands of gore stained hair.

Astarion takes stock of the committed atrocity for one moment before he begins to approach. “What a mess,” he sighs, slightly wrinkling delicate features in annoyance, making his verdict. “Why, little love—this one is particularly sloppy.”

You have not come to senses yet to argue; there is a dreamy, unsettling smile on your face as you glance at your beloved glassy-eyed. Astarion smiles tenderly in return, his fingers gripping your chin to lift your head.

“Poor thing,” the man cooes a tad condescendingly, seizing the moment, when you are incapable of biting back.

Animalistic grunt escapes your throat, and you snarl, but the vampire lord holds you in place tightly. He covers your bleeding, bitten in heat of the urge lips with his own, fangs dragging over your sore skin, making you gasp, almost weep instead.

At other times headstrong and fierce, able to fight back against his caring tyranny, at this point you are exhausted. You cling to his embellished doublet with the last of your strength, pleading, surrendering yourself at his mercy.

“My lovely consort,” Astarion mutters with affection, satisfied with your obedience to the point of one’s disgust.

The pale elf kicks back maidservant’s body with his foot and picks you up in his arms, holding tight to his chest as he carries you to your shared bed. You can feel the urge leaving your body, taking your consciousness away with it.

“It’s going to be over soon, my love.” Astarion whispers soothingly, although you can’t hear him anymore. “It’s going to be over soon.”

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daisynik7 · 11 months

Note

could you do the most gut punching, debilitatingly soul crushing, hair pulling, tear inducing eren ff

cw: PLEASE READ - extremely heavy content and trauma warning, please proceed with caution. If you are sensitive to topics that deal with traumatic events, please avoid this. I'm being overly cautious just in case!

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request, anon. Doing my best to give you something that I consider gut punching/debilitating/tear inducing. I’m sorry for the hurt, this was a tough one to write!

It’s past midnight and you can’t sleep. You’ve been staring up at the ceiling for the past hour, eyes focused on the blank canvas above you, mind unable to shut down the way you want it to. It’s no secret: you’re thinking about Eren again. You haven’t stopped thinking about him for over a year now. And, given your unbreakable track record thus far, you never will.

You call his phone, knowing it’ll go straight to voicemail, clearing your throat as his familiar voice says, “Leave a message after the beep!” The tone rings, signaling for you to start.

“Hey. It’s me again. I know you’re probably tired of hearing my voice, but if you think that’s going to stop me, you’re wrong. I’ll keep calling until the day you pick up.” You turn to your side, resting your phone between the pillow and your ear.

“I can’t sleep. I had a shitty week at work. Levi’s been on my ass, complaining about how my desk is so unorganized. You know how he is. I guess it doesn’t help that I’ve been out of it. I don’t know. I wish you were here.” You swallow hard, trying to hold back from crying. It always leads to this, though. Tears streaming down your cheeks, soaking your pillow in sobs and snot. Eren always teased you for being such a cry baby. It’s one of the many things he loved about you.

“Annie told me I should start dating again. Let go and move on. Told me it’s for the best. Of course, I got upset at her, but I know she’s just worried about me.” You sigh, eyes beginning to water. “Do you still think about me? Because I sure as hell still think about you. All the time.”

It’s inevitable now; the crying, the rush of emotions. “I’m still so fucking mad at you for leaving that night,” you say, sniffling. “So fucking mad for not staying with me. Why did you do that, Eren? Why did you leave me?”

You sob into the phone, unable to form coherent words any longer. It takes a minute or two to collect yourself, wiping your face with the blanket, eyes puffy, nose runny. As best as you can, you continue, voice trembling. “I’m not actually angry. I promise you. I just miss you so fucking much. There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not thinking of you. I see you everywhere. In my dreams, around my house, whenever I hang out with our friends. You’re always here and always there. I can’t escape you.”

The giant teddy bear he won at that state fair five years ago sits on the bed beside you. You reach out for it, holding it snug in an embrace, the phone still squeezed to your ear. “I know you’ll never listen to this, but I want you to know that I still love you. I’ve always loved you, Eren. I always will.” With that, you hang up, ending the voicemail.

It’s been over a year now since the accident. When you got the call from his parents, you were staring up at the ceiling, exactly like tonight, unable to sleep. Waiting for his call to come through, ensuring you he got home safely. You told him to stay over, but he insisted, knowing he had to be with his family the next morning to celebrate his mom’s birthday. And of course, it’s not his fault for insisting. Eren was always trying to make everybody happy. It’s not his fault for driving that night. It’s not his fault for stepping on the gas pedal when the stoplight turned green. It’s not his fault for not noticing the speeding car with its headlights turned off, driving towards him, running the red. None of it was his fault, and that’s what makes it hurt the most. He didn’t deserve this. Nobody does.

And while he’s still living and breathing, the steady heartbeat pounding in his chest, it’s almost harder than if he wasn’t. For over a year now, you’ve held onto hope that one day, he’ll wake up from his coma. That the past twelve, thirteen, fifteen months have been an unbearable nightmare, and he’ll be back to his normal self. Laughing and smiling with his cheeks rounded, the same electric joy he brings everywhere he goes. It’s that hope that drives you crazy, keeps you sinking down this unending spiral. But it’s the only thing you have left to hang on to.

It's become routine to visit him every weekend in the hospital. Sitting beside his peaceful form, stroking his hand. Throat stuck with anguish that renders you speechless. That’s why you leave the voicemails for him on his phone, the one that his mom promises to keep charged every day because she knows how important it is to you. You scoot the chair closer to him, the phone held in your grasp, playing on speaker the latest message you left for him just several hours ago. Wishing for a miracle that somehow, he’s hearing this and dreaming of you in his everlasting slumber.

Hey. It’s me again. I know you’re probably tired of hearing my voice, but if you think that’s going to stop me, you’re wrong. I’ll keep calling until the day you pick up.

#eren angst #eren jaeger #requests #eren fanfiction #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager #eren aot #eren x reader #eren jaeger imagines #aot fanfiction #aot angst #attack on titan angst

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ghcstao3 · 10 months

Text

(from this post. i got excited)

It’s an easy job, at the very least.

Show up, have Price assign a location, sell produce for eight hours straight, go home. Repeat the next day, or two days from then, whichever is most convenient to the farmer running the entire operation. Proceed all summer long.

It’s simple, almost too simple, but who is Johnny to complain when he’s getting paid above minimum wage to essentially sit around all season?

At least, Johnny wouldn’t be one to complain if it weren’t for the fellow university student he’s consistently paired up with to work alongside.

It’s not that Simon is rude or unpleasant or anything—in fact, if he was, Johnny thinks it might make things a bit easier—he’s just… quiet. And frustratingly intriguing but so unresponsive to Johnny’s attempts at making the days that seem to stretch on forever just a little more bearable.

At some point Johnny starts to think Simon hates him, with the way he’ll hold longer conversations with customers than with his own coworker. It’s miserable, in all honesty, because Johnny had just hoped to come away from this job with a friend, like most of his past employments—instead he’s been saddled with one-word responses and the barest hint of a cold-shoulder and it’s driving him insane.

But Johnny lets Simon ignore him. He’d prefer mutual company, sure, but he also recognizes when limits are set.

So when they’re trapped under their stand of the day, huddled together as much as two people can be without touching, Johnny still makes no attempt to spark conversation even as the chill of an anomalous late-June near-freezing cold soaks into his bones. He keeps his mouth shut even when he begins shivering uncontrollably, not wanting to disturb Simon and whatever contentedness he feels in his silences and steady gazes.

Though, Johnny nearly whines when Simon gets up and takes his warmth with him after muttering something about getting something from the truck.

Then Simon is returning, and something silver and crinkling is being draped over Johnny’s shoulders with a tentative care before Simon is returning to his spot without a word. Johnny pulls the emergency blanket tighter around himself and finally allows himself a glance at Simon, still composed and unreadable as ever.

Johnny dares break the silence with a soft, “Thank you.”

Simon shrugs a shoulder. His eyes are still firmly set ahead, to the space where imaginary customers stand in the pouring rain.

“Don’t imagine Price would appreciate having to fill out a report if you got hypothermia,” Simon says.

It’s the most words he’s spoken to Johnny in succession, and it comes at a slight shock. Johnny stares, wide-eyed, incidentally boring holes in the side of Simon’s face. He watches Simon’s jaw work, almost like he’s chewing on the regret of opening a line of communication to Johnny.

“I’m sure he’d find a loophole,” Johnny quips.

Simon huffs. Johnny suspects it’s the closest to a laugh he might ever get.

In the lull that follows, Simon hangs his head, picks at a loose thread on his jeans. There’s almost a bashful quality to the action as he asks, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Johnny frowns. The first time Simon ever really talks to him, and he’s… setting up punchlines? But even amidst his confusion, Johnny echoes, “What do you call a bear in the rain?”

Simon looks up at Johnny, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “A drizzly bear,” he replies in a deadpan.

Johnny snorts before bursting into a fuller laugh, fingers curling tightly around the edges of the blanket as he doubles over at the absurdity of… everything. There must be something in the air. In the God-awful weather.

“That’s horrible,” Johnny laughs, “Just terrible.”

“There’s more where that came from,” Simon tells him, sounding vaguely pleased with himself.

“Well, go on, then.” Johnny grins. His stomach cramps with fading laughter. “Give it your best.”

And Simon sure does.

Johnny isn’t too certain what’s shifted between them to cause this, in this short frame of time. But either way, he’s glad for it.

Now he can only pray it holds up for the rest of the summer, let alone their next shift together. This side of Simon is far better than anything Johnny could have hoped for, in his prior endeavours to be amicable.

How he could listen to Simon telling stupid jokes for the rest of time.

Johnny can't wait to learn more about him.

#erm. Yeah #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost x soap #drabble #writing #alternate universe

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dreamingcloudie · 1 year

Note

Dottore who never really got sick just magically got a fever one day and despite his stubbornness, you insisted on taking care of him 💙

❛❛A Doctor's Doctor❜❜

✎ ❛❛ I might have to get sick more often, just so you can take care of me again. ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Fluff (Oneshot)

Warning(s): Use of Dottore's (speculated) real name, finished this at 5am so there might be some errors

wc: ~1.2k

Notes: Thank you sm Anon for sending this to me!! It's time for this softie to get well taken care of (as he should). I hope you like it!!! 💕💕 Might change some stuff when I wake up but we'll see

Any feedback is greatly appreciated! ♡

Before meeting you, whenever Dottore got sick, he’d just ignore the signals his body was trying to warn him. Got a cold? He’d just work it away. Caught a flu? Pop some pills and continue on about his day. No one was there to drag him to bed or look after him, he had to take care of himself in his own way. When was the last time he had been taken care of? Has he even ever experienced that? What was it like being mothered? He wondered. He didn't grow up with the warmth of a mother. So the idea of being in a state where you’re so vulnerable to the point you need someone else to take care of you made him feel… frightened.

That was until you waltz right into his heart. It’s not often Dottore would get sick. It has been quite some time since the two of you were together. You were almost convinced this man was immune to any sickness… that was until he suddenly caught himself in a sneezing fit.

You have been sitting next to him for almost an hour, watching him as he worked, well, tried to. He was about to proceed with a step that he needed to be extra cautious with when–

“ah-CHOO.”

…And the sound of glass breaking on the floor followed through.

‘Twenty-five,’ you counted. “Love, that was the twenty-fifth sneeze you had let out for the past hour. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine,” he grunted. His brow frowning as he looked at the shattered pieces on the floor. He soon regretted it when he looked right into the lights reflected off of the glass shards, making him feel even more nauseous.

Slightly cringing at how his voice came out hoarse. You reached your hand out to his face so you could make him turn to you and took his mask off. As you set your sight on him, you gasped at how red his face was. Beads of sweat were rolling down and bags were visible under his eyes. Placing your hand on his forehead, you could feel how abnormally high his temperature was.

“Oh Archons, you got a fever!”

“Dove, you could’ve just said that I’m hot–”

“No. What I meant was you’re sick.” You then stood up and attempted to drag him to your shared bed. “Get up, we’re getting you to bed.”

But to your dismay, he did not budge.

“Zandik, you’re not going to work like this,” you argued.

“I really am fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew it would only make his condition worse. Having no other choices, you decided to just leave him be for now and stomped out of his lab. On your way out, you bumped into one of his segments — a younger version of himself.

“Ah! My apologies, darling. I didn’t see you there.” He gave you a sheepish smile.

“It’s alright…” You trailed off as you stared at him.

Then an idea came into mind.

“PRIME!”

Gritting his teeth. Dottore winced at the sudden loud noise that made his ears ring.

“What is it?” He was starting to lose his patience, his fever was getting him on his nerves.

“It’s (Y/n)! They were in the bedroom and–”

Dottore didn’t even let his segment finish and he rushed to your shared bedroom. Something bad must’ve happened if his clone came to him in a hurry and said your name. He came barging into the room and what he saw almost made him faint. You were laying on the bed, covered in layers and layers of bandages stained with blood. As he got closer to check on you. You shot out of your covers and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down onto the bed with you and sat right on top of him, restraining his movements.

“Gotcha.” You smiled at him in triumph.

He was confused, but quickly caught on. “What is the meaning of this? I won’t be taking any rest–”

“Yes you are. I may not be a doctor but I know when someone is sick. Besides, you’re on the bed now, so might as well just lay down.”

He was about to deny your request, then he looked into your eyes.

“But my work…”

“Just leave it for now. At least until you get a bit better.”

How could he say no when you were looking at him with such pleading eyes? Damn it, why must you make denying you that hard?

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Your worried expression then melts into a softened one.

“Great! Now, I’ll go brew you some tea, so don’t go anywhere, got it?”

You got off of him and took the bandages colored with red food coloring off. As you did so, you caught a glimpse of a look of grimace on Dottore’s face. Well, gotta do what you need to do to get him to bed. Better safe than sorry, right? You then went to brew him some tea and tasked the segment who followed him to the bedroom to keep him in bed, giving him a high five as he passed you. When you came back with a cup of steamy ginger tea in your hand, you were met with a comedic sight. The segment was laying right on top of Dottore, trying to keep him from getting up.

“Let me get up, you rascal! You’re supposed to follow my orders, damn it!”

“I’m sorry, Prime. But (Y/n) said you need rest–”

The segment noticed you standing by the door. He gave you pleading eyes to help calm his master down.

You gave Dottore his cup of tea, advising him to drink slowly so he wouldn’t burnt his tongue off. Then you put a cool washcloth on him to get his fever down, changing it every once in a while when it gets warm. At one point, Dottore asked if you could give him some painkillers for his headache. You went to fetch some and to your surprise, he was still in the bed when you came back, looking all snug underneath the covers. You couldn’t help but cooed at how cute he looked. His face flushed in embarrassment but luckily for him, it was disguised as he had fever.

You glared at Dottore. “What did I say about leaving the bed?” You scolded him like he was a misbehaving five-year-old, which he kind of was acting like one. When he saw you, he let out a huff and leaned back onto the mattress.

“Whatever,” he groaned. Looking right behind you, his segment was snickering to himself, but immediately left the room when he could feel Prime staring right into his soul.

A few hours have passed by, you put the thermometer in his mouth. Letting out a sigh of relief momentarily when the red line was not as high as it was before.

“Alright, good news. Your temperature is not as high now. I suppose you can continue your work.”

“...Actually, I’ll just wait until I’m fully recovered,” he said, having gotten used to your tender care.

“Oh, now you want to rest, huh?” you teased.

“It feels nice being taken care of,” he confessed. “I didn’t have anyone to take care of me when I was sick.”

You held his hand up to where your face was and kissed his palm.

“But now I do.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #dottore fluff #fatui #fatui harbinger #fatui x reader #fatui harbinger x reader

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bugs1nmybrain · 1 year

Text

L Lawliet x Virgin!Reader: Oxytocin (18+ Minors Don’t Interact)

Prompt: L had been working nonstop on his current case, and you desperately wanted him to take a break and do something new with each other.

Notes: 18+ NSFW (Minors Don’t Interact), fem-reader, loss of virginity (L and reader), reader is in college, unprotected sex, L licks pussy juice off his fingers at one point lmao

Word Count: 3889

Hours stacked on top of each other as L jumped between typing on his computer, making phone calls, and watching surveillance cameras. He had been focused on his current murder investigation for a long time, never seizing to take a break. You had been working on homework yourself. This is how you and L spent much of your time together, simply keeping each other company as you go about your own business.

You had finally completed a research paper that you had spent days on. It felt like a weight off your shoulders. You shut your laptop and then stretched your body, sitting on the bed that L had Watari place in his room, solely for when you visited him. Did he ever use it himself? Not at all. L didn’t sleep much and when he did, he usually passed out in the same position he was always in, sitting in a chair. Glancing at the other side of the room, you see L staring at the tv that sat in front of him. He was monitoring every movement on the screen. Three empty cups surrounded him, once filled with coffee and tea.

It had been a while since you two had spent genuine time together. You two were always so busy, especially him as it seemed like the only thing he ever did was work. You were growing impatient about being able to have quality time with him, but you understood that what L did for a living was a priority. You were determined to find an excuse to spend time with him.

You got up from your sitting position on the bed and made your way to the kitchen. You rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a strawberry cheesecake. You cut two slices, making sure to cut an especially large piece for your boyfriend, who lived off of sweets. Wandering back into his room, you set the piece of cake in front of L and sat next to him. He finally removed his focus from the screen onto the plate, and then to you.

��Thank you for bringing this.”

“I figured you could use it. You’ve been working really hard.”

L takes a bite of the cheesecake and then proceeds to talk with his mouth full, “Well, you see, there’s been an abnormal rise of victims within these regions. They’re all spread out in inconsistent areas, diverging from an obvious pattern.” L takes another chunk of the cake and simply stares at it. “Honestly, it’s futile for me to be working this hard. I don’t even know why I took this on. This case is predictable, easy, and the murderer is pretty stupid. I’m assuming that this will be solved in a couple of days.”

“It sounds that way.”

With the way he was describing his work, it seemed like he could definitely spare time.

“Would you want to spend some time with me tonight?” You ask.

“Haven’t we been doing that?”

“Sure, but I mean something a little more personal. Like a date, kind of.”

“The sooner this case gets solved, the more time we can spend together.”

“I know, but you said this was easy and that it’d be solved in a couple of days. Couldn’t you take a break and come back to it later?”

L pauses for a moment and takes note of your facial expression. You were so easy to read. He could tell that this was something you really wanted and that you missed him. As much of a genius L is, sometimes he’s oblivious to your feelings, or even to love for that matter. He takes a lot back at the screen and presses a finger to his lip, seeming as if he’s contemplating something.

“We don’t even have to go anywhere special,” you continue. “I just want to do something with you.”

L grumbles and takes a look back at the screen. He presses a finger to his lip, seeming as if he’s contemplating something. He reaches over to his cell phone, specifically his personal one (he has about six separate ones for different purposes), and dials a number.

“Watari?”

All you could hear on the phone was inaudible chatter.

“Could you make arrangements to have detectives in the locations I’m sending to you investigate the area, along with the corpses? While this is happening, could you also keep an eye out for any new victims that may arise?”

“I am actually preoccupied tonight, I will resume my duties tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you very much, I appreciate that.”

The phone call ends and L directs his attention back to you.

“So, what is it that you’re thinking about doing?”

To be honest, there was something on his mind for a long while. You had been thinking about it for weeks and it’s almost become a plague in your mind.

When it came to intimacy, you and L were a little awkward. It took you two nearly a century to even start holding hands. You can vividly remember the first kiss you shared. The way L stared at you freakishly before asking if he could kiss you, took you by surprise. It was amateur, to say the least, but after that, kisses occurred much more often than you expected. As distant as L could be, he enjoyed sharing physical affection with you.

But there was something you had never done, something that was foreign to both of you. It was a no-brainer to you that your lover was a virgin. He was socially and romantically stunted. He didn’t have any friends, so it would be foolish to assume he ever had sex before. And for you? You were in the same boat. The opportunity simply never arose, and finding someone you were comfortable enough with was a lot harder than it was for other people. You even thought that there was something wrong with you for a bit.

However, these last few weeks have awakened something in you. You found yourself admiring L differently than you have before. Sure, you had always found him cute, but you were paying an awful lot of attention to him recently. The way he pressed his fingers to his lips made you wonder how they’d feel on other parts of your body besides your lips. His low yet soft voice made your insides tingle. You were noticing how alluring he was, and you couldn’t help but notice yourself growing warm inside when you thought about being intimate with him.

There was a part of you that was afraid to suggest it. What if he wasn’t sexually attracted to you? What if he thought your body was distasteful? What if you didn’t feel good enough for him? What if-

“Uh, Y/N? You’ve been staring at me for a while. I asked you a question.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just spacing out. Maybe we could watch a movie, like true crime?”

“Those shows are painfully predictable.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d say that.” You tried to think of something you two could do aside from that.

“You look like you have something to say, Y/N.”

You didn’t want to say it. Maybe you did. No, you didn’t. He wouldn’t want to.

“Well, I guess we could get some ice cream from the freezer and start from there,” you suggest, despite just having cheesecake.

“That sounds perfect.”

The two of you get up and leave the room. You walk to the freezer and pull out ice cream. L tells you to take out three flavors, not being able to decide between the three. You scoop the ice cream, placing the different flavors together. You chose mint chocolate chip.

You guys eat your ice cream, not saying a word. It’s weird. You look over at him and watch intently as he licks his ice cream, and you feel that warmth coming back. Why was this of all things turning you on???? You felt gross. It didn’t take long for him to notice you looking at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You divert your attention back to your own cone. “Just spacing out again.”

“You know, you don’t need to hold back things from me. If there’s something you want to say, feel free.”

Why was this so hard?

“I guess I’ve been lying about what I actually want to do.”

“That’s pretty evident, I’d say.”

You look down at your feet as you can’t manage to make eye contact from the amount of embarrassment you were feeling “I..do you..would you maybe want to try something with me?”

When you look back up, there L was, close to your face. He’s a weirdo sometimes, but it’s cute.

“And what may that be?” L knew. It wasn’t hard to assume what you were contemplating. But he wanted to hear you say it yourself.

You can feel your cheeks heating up and you feel nervous. You breathe in deep and let it out. The worst thing he could say was no.

“I’d like to take a step further in our relationship. I love you, and I’d really like..to be intimate with each other. Like, have sex.”

“That’s what you want to do?”

Here it comes. You were sure he was going to turn your offer down.

“Well, I can’t say that I’d be opposed to that.”

The tension in your body suddenly dissipates. L moves closer, tilting your chin up to plant an unexpected kiss on your lips. It’s brief but intimate.

“You taste like mint,” L mumbles, causing you to giggle at his comment.

“Would you like to do that right now?” he asks.

“Yes, I would,” you say while slightly shaking. L noticed the anxiety in your voice.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m not upset. Should we go back to the bedroom?”

“Yea.”

L gently entangles his hand with yours, guiding you to the bedroom. Before continuing, he goes over to his computer and disables the cameras that monitored the room. He returns to you and takes your hand again, bringing it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. He brings you over to the bed. You sit down, and he does so too, but of course, sitting down in his go-to position.

“I’m sure you already know, but I’ve never done this. Am I safe to assume you haven’t, either?”

“Yea, that’s accurate. I wanted to do this with you, though,”

“I’ve been looking forward to this myself.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m glad you suggested it. Should we undress now?”

“Actually, can we start by kissing?”

“That’d be alright.”

L turns himself toward you and brings his hand to rest on the side of your face. He pulls you in to lock lips with him. L was good at a lot of things, and that included kissing. The sounds of the kisses you shared and the feeling of his lips caused a pool of arousal to creep up inside you. He settles his other hand on your waist and leans into your form. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his body even closer to yours. The exchange between your hot breaths distracted you so much that you hadn’t noticed L moving his hands underneath your shirt, resting his hands on your love handles. You pull away from the kiss and avert your eyes away from L, flustered from the intimacy. L reaches to adjust your face so that you’re looking at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just a little nervous is all.”

“Do you want me to continue?”

You nod at him. L returns his lips to yours for a brief kiss before gripping his fingers at the hem of your shirt. He pulls the clothing off of you slowly and drops it on the floor. You finish the task by taking off your pants, leaving you only in your underwear.

“I suppose it’s my turn then?” L asks.

“Yea, I’d like that.”

Reaching over to him to pull his shirt off, you toss it onto the floor to rest among the other clothes. Your eyes gaze over to L, seeing him in a way you never did before. He was pretty frail and his skin was smooth and pale. L continued to look at you with a finger pressed to his lips, and you realize that his eyes landed on your chest.

“It’s rude to stare,” you tease.

“Your bra is very pretty,” he remarks. “However, I’m more interested in seeing what’s underneath it.”

Damn. You didn’t expect him to be so flirty.

“May I take it off?” L asks. You grant him permission, turning around for him to see your clasps. He undoes your bra after two attempts to unclasp it. He’s new to this. You allow the bra to fall off of you, and you turn back toward L. His stare returns, focusing on you breasts as if he was photographing them in his mind. He can feel his cock twitching inside his pants at the sight of your nude chest. This was a sight he had never seen before, and for it to be you that he was looking at made him even more aroused.

“You can..touch if you want,” you assure. You certainly didn’t have to tell him twice, because he was quick to rest his hands on your breasts. It was kind of awkward actually, not very sexy. He gives them a light squeeze and fondles your chest for a few moments.

“They’re quite soft.” L’s finger makes circles around your nipple, eliciting a beautiful sound out of you that made him leak a bit of pre-cum.

He wants to touch you everywhere now, wondering how many sounds he can continue to evoke from you. He refrains from his urge and suppresses it by taking off his pants. You’ve shown yourself to him, the least he could do was return the favor. Once his pants are off, you can see his cock poking through his underwear, making you nervous.

“Can I touch you, too?” You ask, curious about what his penis would feel like.

“Please do,” you could swear that you could hear a hint of desperation in his voice. His composure was relatively calm, but you noticed a flush of pink dusting his shoulders and cheeks.

You reached out to gently grip your hand around his clothed cock. L produces a barely audible grunt. You’re intrigued by his erection straining against your grasp and decide to fumble with him through his underwear. Touching him made you grow wetter, especially as he started humming under his breath,

“Do you like this?” you ask, though you could tell by the damp feeling on the end of his cock that he was definitely enjoying it.

“It feels very enjoyable. I’d say you’re pretty skilled at doing this sort of thing.”

You continue to give his cock a couple more strokes and then proceed to pull his underwear off of him. The sight before you made you blush so hard that you were sure you had a fever by now. L’s cock wasn’t big nor small, probably around five and a half inches, and it was pale without many noticeable veins. His tip was flushed with a pink accent and there was a sticky gloss on his glands. You gaze back at L to see his eyes lidded while he pressed his thumb at the edge of his lips, appearing as if he was embarrassed.

“I love how you look. It’s not like those scary looking ones on Pornhub.”

“I’m certainly no porn star.”

“But you look cute,” you giggle.

Taking his naked cock in your grasp, you guide your hand up and down his length and run circles around his glands. You can hear his heavy breath fall and rise.

“Shouldn’t I be doing the same to you, right now?” L grumbles.

The thought made you timid. You force yourself out of your hesitation and take your panties off. L moves closer to be able to see you better, but your legs are squeezed together.

“I’d like to see you as well, Y/N.”

He takes his hands to move your legs apart. You feel extremely embarrassed and try to cover yourself again with your hands, but L catches you first, placing them back at your sides.

“I know it’s not very pretty,” you say insecurely.

“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t know how a “pretty” vagina is supposed to appear, but I assure you there’s nothing wrong with how you look.”

L pauses for a moment before bringing his fingers to touch your wet labia. His pupils dialate even more than they already were by the feeling of your soaked pussy. You whimper at his touch and you can see his cock visably twitch.

“You’re very aroused, aren’t you?” L quietly chuckles.

L guides his fingers up and down your pussy, seeming as if he’s searching for something. The pad of his middle and index fingers touch your clit.

“Is that it?”

“Mhm!”

“Could you teach me how to pleasure you? I’ll admit, this isn’t my field of expertise.”

“Yea, here,” you move your fingers down to your pussy and show L how you move them along your clit. Then you gently take L’s wrist and encourage him to touch you again.

“I believe I understand. Please tell me if I do something wrong.”

L trails his fingers on your outer lips, teasing the build-up. After caressing the softness of your pussy, he gently makes circles around your puffy clit. You instantly whine at the sensation. All the feelings that came with L stimulating you made you nervous. Admittedly, it takes you some time to reach your high because of this, but L is patient and persistent. L notes which spots of your pussy make you quiver the most, which movements make you shake, and how your back arches while he sucks on your breasts simultaneously.

The feeling in your clit builds and builds, and you can feel your orgasm approaching. L seems to be able to tell, because he keeps messing with your clit in such a way that makes your heart race quicker.

“L..”

He doesn’t say anything, he just keeps pleasuring you. After all, L is someone who hates to lose. He WAS going to make you cum for him.

And finally, you release all over his fingers, making a complete mess of his hand. Your body is filled to the brim with that butterfly feeling that L made you feel many times before, only now it was much, much more intense. Looking back at L, you see him staring at his hand, which was covered in your juices.

“Interesting.."

L smells his hand. To your utmost surprise, he licks a small amount of your fluids off the tips of his fingers.

“It tastes rather salty, but slightly sweet as well,” he remarks with a smirk. You whine in embarrassment. “Should we continue?”

“Yea, we should.”

“May I choose the position?” L asks. He was ultimately worried about it because he really doesn’t like getting out of his go-to crouch if he can help it. How was he supposed to please you if his deductive abilities decrease by 40%?

“What kind were you thinking?” You ask, worried that it would be something that would display you in a vulnerable fashion.

“I was thinking of something like this,” L crawls over you and rests his knees up near your upper torso, and pulls you on top of his lap. It’s sort of like his natural sitting position, and it’s weird to say the least. His face hovers above yours, and his deadpan stare remains, but you can feel a slight tremble in his body. Was he scared??

You pull L into another kiss, but this time it’s much more intimate. He sinks into your lips tenderly and uses a hand to gently stroke the top of your head.

“Are you ready?” You ask timidly.

“Yes. I’m going to push in, if that’s alright?”

After your assuring nod, L takes his cock and aligns it to your entrance. He pushes in most of the way, but stops at the tremble in your voice.

“Ow,” you say with a light voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” You curse at yourself in your head, thinking that you’ve ruined the experience. L catches onto your distressed body language.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just not used to this. Could you go slow?”

“I can do that.”

L continues to move in and out of you, but slowly. The thrusts are meticulous, calculated even. L keeps an eye on your facial expressions to see how far he can go. After a few moments, your insides become accustomed to L’s shape, and the movements begin to feel better.

“It’s starting to feel good.”

“Is that so? Would you like me to go faster?”

“Just a bit.”

L’s cock begins to quicken its pace, but the thrusts are deeper and you can feel every detail of him inside you. Your insides moisten more now that the sensations are enjoyable. More fluids begin to secrete from your pussy which allows him to move more flexibly inside of you.

The sounds of L slipping in and out of you causes your arousal to heat up. Your walls clenched desperately onto your lover. L had been so focused on making sure he wasn’t hurting you that he hadn’t even realized how good he felt. The inviting warmth of your pussy brought pleasure to L that he never knew existed. His movements quicken and become more explorative, as he longs to savor every cushion of your insides. Quiet moans escape your mouth, which he silents by placing a messy kiss on your lips.

Pulling away from the kiss, his gaze returns to you. He studied the way your face looked as he sank in and out of you and how your breasts moved to every rhythm. All of this was so new to L, and his senses were being overwhelmed. L was surprisingly vocal, with quiet whimpers escaping him.

The only coherent thoughts you had were overtaken by oxytocin. The way L’s cock filled you and briefly brushed against your cervix made your heart feel heavy yet soft at the same time. The sounds the two of you produced was like music, creating the most beautiful song. Sensations that were once new and intimidating were now shadowed by powerful love.

“Y/N..you’re going to make me..”

“It’s okay, you can.”

L appreciates a few more seconds of your tightness. He grunts with a whiney voice, releasing spurts of cum inside you. The both of you breath heavily before falling into a warm hug.

“I really liked that,” you said with an uncontrollable smile.

“Thank you, my love,” L responds, placing a kiss to your cheek.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“Well, you’re the one who proposed this, and it was more than pleasurable.”

“I’m glad. Would you be willing to cuddle for a bit?” You ask rather desperately.

“Sure,” L scouches beside you, placing your legs over his waist and snuggles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh shit!” You exclaim.

“What’s wrong?”

“We didn’t use protection.”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Watari to get Plan B for us.”

#l lawliet #l lawliet smut

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ieathumanorgans · 7 months

Text

Geto Suguru/Gojo Satoru with a poc! fem reader

warnings: nsfw/oral sex/threesome/male creampie(?) implied ig/poly relationship/geto and gojo going at it about who’s gonna do what/gojo fucking geto while he eats you out lmfao/no plot (?) whatsoever just plain ol fucking/a rushed draft/not really proofread/REALLY ooc - strictly for poc readers. proceed at your own risk.

a/n: gojo is kinda dumb he doesn’t know how to do aftercare so geto does all the work forgive him geto he’s a visual learner UGH its the weekend finally so no more school yayyy i get to write now :3

they wanna freak you BAD. nsfw under cut

You are geto’s girlfriend and you’ve been together since you guys were first years. Years passed and now you’re in on something with geto and gojo. While you laid in their shared bed, completely naked. They were arguing, “I get the front! And you get the back!” Gojo yelled at geto as he pointed towards you. All you do is stare at them like they just two fucking idiots that are fighting over the last chocolate bar at the candy shop, “What if she doesn’t want you in the front and wants you in the back, you doofus!” Geto bickered back at gojo. Now, they were definitely going at it. You sat up, “Can you guys just stop it already. I’m getting dry over here.” You pointed to your cunt. Geto and gojo stopped and turned to look at you then back at each other. “Take turns?” They asked in sync. “I swear you guys are like children..” You said, laughing as you laid back onto the bed, “You can go first suguru, since she is YOUR girlfriend.” “Well, she’s your girlfriend too, Satoru.” Suguru hummed as he crawled onto the bed and in between your legs, He licked his lips before he leaned his head down to devour your essence. Gojo on the other hand had a different idea in mind, “Geto, to make this more interesting. How about I..” He trailed off as he eyed geto’s back. “How about you what.” Geto asked as he lifted his head from in between your legs to turn back at gojo who had his hand on geto’s hips now as he positions the head of his cock at geto’s hole. “..sure…” Geto responded as he went to sucking on your clit and shoving his index and middle finger in and out of your aching cunt, causing you arch your back and whimper out in please. Gojo slowly bucked his hips into geto’s ass. Gojo groaned at the tight feeling around his cock. Geto moaned but, it was muffled against your clit which made you, “Mmm…geto..~” You moaned out as reached your hand down to pet geto as he ate your pussy like a starving animal. Your other hand worked to massage your breast. Gojo, on the hand was working his hips into geto’s. Every thrust gojo gave geto’s ass caused him to moan as he ate your pussy, sending waves of pleasure over you.

After what seemed like hours and hours of sex. You all got scolded by shoko because she couldn’t sleep due the fact your room was filled with nothing but moans and groans and skin slapping. “Next time..just keep it down, please. You’re lucky principal yaga wasn’t roaming last night..”

#jjk x you #poc reader #jjk x poc!reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto fans are so true #gojo smut #geto smut

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 10 months

Text

Spider & déjà blue road trip headcannons

I already said I’m on a road trip so here you go 👀 might be heavily OOC bc I’m tired

When Spider found out that he’s getting dragged on a road trip with his bio dad, uncles and aunt, he was not excited. First of all, because they’re likely a bunch of uncool, overly strict marines and second because they’re grown ups 🙄 but custody is custody, so he has no choice.

Mansk had a van, so they use it to travel during this trip.

The kid had no idea what he was getting into, but neither did the déjà blu.

Quaritch

Goes full mother hem mode, prepares for any contingency. Has two first-aid kits, all sorts of camping equipment and even some hidden firearms (Spider doesn’t know about the latter and it’s best it stays that way)

Packed lunches and snacks for Spider!.

Drives the car and talks about sports, fishing and hunting with Lye who’s one seat behind. He later moves to sit next to him when blondie becomes way too hyperactive for him to handle.

Spider will be back though, because Eywa knows this man is ancient and needs help working through Google maps so the squad actually gets somewhere this weekend.

Yells at passengers in the backseats when they get too loud.

Shares an earbud with Spider at one point, to drown out the snores and listens to indie with him ☺️ doesn’t want to admit it, but thinks his son’s playlist is low-key a bomb. They sing the lyrics quietly while the others sleep.

(Pssst, the song they’re vibing to:

Spider

Is restless. He needs movement and sitting in a car is the exact opposite of that. Needless to say, keeping him occupied is quite difficult.

First several hours, he’s content to listen to music while looking out the window, drawing in his sketchbook or watching YouTube, but he’s itching to do something and the backseat seems much more fun, with loudly Z-dog and Lopez are talking.

Getting teased and firing back at them busies him some more, but he has to eventually come back to the front seat to argue with Miles about what roads to take and how to work the gps on his phone.

“See??? It’s saying that the road is closed!”

“Where the hell is it written!?”

“THERE! There’s an icon of some guy digging, that means road work ahead!”

“Well I sure damn how it does!”

“OH MY— DAD I SWEAR TO EYWA—”

Buys silly keychains and charms on every stop to add to an ever growing collection on his locker key, that he can then use to jingle as to further annoy the adults or get their attention.

Lyle

Provides Miles witch a company while he’s stuck trying to entertain Spider.

Proceeds to bore Spider to sleep by talking about fishing.

Takes over driving when Quaritch is too tired and has an hour long back and forth with the kid, exchanging sarcasm and making him cringe with his puns (yes, he’s the dad pun uncle, you can’t change my mind)

Pays for Spider’s keychains.

Zdog

Shares her row in the van with Lopez because they’re both high energy menaces.

Stole some of Spider’s snacks.

“Hey, hey, Spidey”

“Ugh what?”

“Ok so who do you think would win, a silverback gorilla OR a grizzly bear??”

She’s on the side of the bear, and Spider bands with her, arguing with Lopez for hours about which of the animals would kick the other’s ass.

Braids Spider’s hair when she gets bored and the kid ends up rocking Viking braids for the rest of their trip.

Lopez

Is on the side of the gorilla and borderline disowned the two he shares his seat with after hours of arguing and trying to prove to them that the monke is superior because it has a bigger brain and hands ☝️

“What the fuck is the monkey going to do to a grizzly???”

“It can use tools! Make itself a badass battle axe, like in Godzilla vs king-Kong!!”

Takes Spider’s snacks from Zdog and munches her stolen goods right in front of her.

Mansk

Mansk provided the transport, so he’s content to rest in the back of the car with Ja, who, together with him is the calmest out of the squad.

Mostly just stares out the window, listens to music or sleeps.

However, will absolutely grill whatever fish Lyle catches during the trip. He hasn’t brought grilling equipment for nothing!

Offered to sit in the middle row so he could dampen the chaos of Lopez, Z and Spidey but they declined. He’ll have to get better earplugs next time.

Ja/Alexander

The second mother hen of the group. Asked everyone a billion times if they packed everything they needed, and brought a med-kit of his own.

Is the one to disinfect Spider’s knees when he scrapes them while climbing rocks near the parking lot. He’s not a big talker, but has a softer vibe than Mansk.

Pampers Spider just a bit. Gives him his snacks when Z-dog steals them, offers him water and so on. The more subtle details that Quaritch or Spider himself may miss.

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bubybubsters · 5 months

Text

Three Shadow Boys

a/n: good day. Meh. I’m skipping homework for this. Sorry I’ll update something at one point.

masterlist

wc: 1450

summary: just 3 shadow boys hanging out! Ruhn, Azriel, and Xaden.

*****

Crescent City- Ruhn

Ruhn grinned at his new found friends as he lead them around the city. They’d already been to see Bryce and his sister had flirted shamelessly. After an hour of Hunt, Xaden, and Azriel having a pissing contest, Bryce kicked them out to make it up to her boyfriend. So he gave the idiots a tour of the city and naturally, they insulted and laughed at everything that was Ruhn’s. Like how his headphones were navy blue instead of black because apparently ‘we’re the shadow boys, you’ve got to get black.’

When he introduced them to Tristan and Flynn they got along perfectly! Not even a pissing contest over Flynn’s hot girlfriend! They were currently playing poker and Azriel was winning with a giant stack of chips triple everyone elses.

“I swear, he’s cheating,” Xaden’s complaint was met with much agreement.

“I would never! I’m an honorable shadow boy!”

Ruhn grinned, “let’s see how ‘honorable’ you are when we start drinking.” They all laughed and continued their loss of money.

“I quit! Ruhn show us to those guns, please, before I jump that cheating ass.”

“I’m not cheating!”

Ruhn just shook his head and dealt out the cards once again.

By the end of the next round, Xaden had reached his limit and leapt across the table to see Azriel’s cards.

“He’s not cheating! That’s impossible.”

Ruhn joined him and they both stared at down at the smug shadowsinger with a look of pure disbelief.

“Ruhn! Stop giving him all the good cards! I should start dealing!”

Ruhn gaped at Xaden. “You’re blaming this on me!? I can’t control what cards I give who!

“Just cheat!”

“You know what, guns sound great right now. At least I’m the best at that because you idiots can’t shoot.”

***

“What happened to ‘you idiots can’t shoot?’” Azriel grinned at Ruhn as he hit bullseye after bullseye.

Xaden groaned. “I can’t shoot!”

“Why is Az good at everything, it’s not fair.” Ruhn growled in frustration as he missed the bullseye by half a millimeter.

“You can’t be groaning! At least you can hit the damned target.” Both Az and Ruhn laughed as Xaden’s shot went wide and hit the deer head decorating the space 50 feet above the targets.

“Not my fault you won’t accept my help. I’ve told you a million times! You’re holding the gun wrong!”

“I am not! I’m not that stupid.” Rhun raises his brows as Xaden proceeds to hold the gun by the barrel instead of the grip where it’s quite obvious a hand should go.

And he hits the ceiling.

“You want that help now?”

“Fuck you.”

*****

Velaris- Azriel

The biweekly Friday family dinners Rhys had organized came with few rules. One: attendance was mandatory. Two: you could bring up to three friends. Three: if you brought friends, everyone else had a right to be busybodies.

It just so happened to be that Friday in which Mor was back from Vallahan and Elain and Lucien were visiting from the Day Court. Everyone was there to interrogate Xaden and Ruhn. The poor shadow babies had no idea what they’d be facing.

“What do I wear? I’ve got to impress your family.” Ruhn was scanning Azriel’s closet in a desperate attempt of last minute dressing.

“You’ll be fine, they really don’t care.”

“Yeah man. Just bring your own clothes next time.” Xaden was dressed in the flight clothes that came from his fancy-dragon world.

“Azriel said I wouldn’t need anything!”

“And since when has Azriel been right?”

“Hey! That’s rude.” Az put a hand over his heart in mock hurt. He grabbed a black shirt, black dress pants and a belt from his closet. “Just where this, it’s better than that pink Crescent City t-shirt.”

Ruhn glared. “This was fifty dollars! It’s a good shirt!”

“If you say so.” Azriel and Xaden shared a smirk as Ruhn put on the clothes given to him.

They descended the stairs to the dining room and found everyone else already there.

Xaden elbowed Ruhn. “You made us late.”

“Did not.”

“Did so.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yes you did!”

Azriel watched with a healthy dose of amusement and embarrassment as the room fell quiet to look at the two arguing. Finally after letting the two get embarrassed he poked Xaden in the shoulder.

Xaden looked up. “Shit.” Raising his voice he said to Rhysand. “My apologies, it was merely that this idiot next to me took an hour deciding what to wear instead of a sparkly, pink shirt.”

That got his family laughing.

***

A while later as they were sitting on the couches, drinking wine and exchanging embarrassing stories the interrogation finally started.

Cassian leaned in. “So Ruhn, we have a few questions for you to get to know you better. If you don’t know the answer you may say “no” and we’ll just assume you’re an idiot.”

“Who’s your father?”

“What’s your job?”

“Favorite color?”

“Best friend?”

The questions started innocently enough and Ruhn answered them each with a joke and easy grin. But Azriel knew he’d be saying a lot more “no”s.

The question came from Mor. “Sooo, Ruhn. Who was the best person you’ve ever bedded?”

Ruhn gawked at her and Azriel and Xaden burst out laughing. Mor shot a look at Xaden, “You’re next man. The questions will just get more detailed.”

Xaden grimaced. “I’m really tired today, all that traveling is rubbing off on me. I think I’ll go sleep.”

“Nuh uh uh.” Feyre wagged a finger at him. “Describe, in detail, your first time of having sex with your girlfriend.”

*****

Aretia- Xaden

Xaden smiled proudly as Sgeayl landed on the field. His smirk grew as both Azriel and Ruhn paled and backed away nervously.

Scare them please.

With pleasure.

Sgeayl blew fire at the ground barely ten feet away from his friends. Their eyes widened as the heat hit them full on.

“Uh Xaden. Can we go back to meetin your girlfriend? She was a little less scary.” Azriel pleaded, adding his puppy eyes.

Sgeayl sniffed indignantly and blew a puff of steam.

“Nah. I think you guys could spend some time together, ya know bond with my dragon. Make sure she doesn’t hate you or burn you to dust?”

“Uhh… Think we’ll pass thanks.” Ruhn was slightly less afraid than Azriel and was staring at Sgeayls blue scales as if trying to memorize them.

Xaden sighed, giving in and leading his friends away to see the sparring ring.

Go hunt sheep with Andarna.

You know you don’t give me orders, puny human.

Xaden grinned back at Sgeayl and she sniffed at him before flying away, likely to hang out with Tairn.

***

Thirty minutes later Xaden was watching Azriel beat up Ruhn on the sparring mats. He eyed the shadowsingers stance, it mainly relied on centering his feet. He took notice that Azriel was fluent with both sides but his right side was just slightly stronger. That’d be a good thing to look out for when Az challenged him.

And only a few minutes later, Azriel challenged him.

“Don’t you want some rest before I beat you up shadowsinger?”

“You won’t beat me up, I can beat you in my sleep.”

“Really??”

“Just fight already, pricks.” Ruhn turned out to be a very sore loser as proven but the poker and sparring.

The two circled eachother and Xaden made sure to not give away a single weakness that could potentially be use against him. Azriel launched, going for a simple one-two combination but Xaden was ready for him. He shifted left a bit and let Azriel’s punches hit his right shoulder at an angle that caused the least damage. He swept out his right leg and knocked Az off his feet before jumping on top of him in a way that made it hard for Azriel to switch their positions. He kneed the Illyrian in the crotch and traced a finger lightly against the tip of Azriel’s wing until Az groaned and yielded.

Xaden got off him and was met with a clap on the back from Ruhn, who had somehow managed to find popcorn.

“How’d you know my wings were so sensitive?” Azriel was frowning at him.

“At your family dinner, Nesta kept brushing the tip of Cassian’s wing with a featherlight touch and he kept jerking away while simultaneously leaning into her touch.”

Az groaned. “Damn Cassian. I had a plan to win as well! I was about to flip you over when you touched my wing and all my thoughts went straight out the window.”

Xaden grinned. “Fair fight I say.”

“No fucking way, I want a rematch.”

*****

a/n: not my worst.

taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination

#bubybubsters #acotar #fanfic #acowar #azriel #azriel fanfic #xaden riorson #aretia #Sgeayl #fourth wing #shadow boys #ruhn danaan #crown prince #cc #crescent city

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oh-surprise-its-me · 9 months

Note

Roy/Jamie prompt: Jamie's a no show to training and everyone is super annoyed, but that all goes out the window when he finally does arrive, but he's pale and shaky, and worse still his clothes and his hands are stained red. " It's not my blood." He says dazedly before he collapses into Roy's arms. He doesn't faint, just goes limp and catatonic. No one can figure out what the hell happened until a viral video appears all over, showing Jamie not only witnessing a horrific traffic accident but also springing into action and helping to pull the victims out of the mangled wreckage. The image of Jamie screaming and desperately trying to keep a little girl Phoebe's age from bleeding out in his arms is seared into everyone's brains, especially Roy's. Roy vows to do all he can to help Jamie heal from this trauma. Love ends up being one of the best remedies.

Anon ily I’m ready to attempt to make people cry again. *rubs hands together*

tw I’m killing the victims of the crash to really make it tragic. *SORRY* there’s also a bit of blood described.

Roy had texted and called Jamie about 20 times now. He doesn’t know what happened, three hours ago they woke up together, lost an hour in bed, Roy had to come in early so Jamie said he’d run here.

That was over two hours ago. Practice is basically over. People are talking showers. It’s insane. He has to pick up Phoebe in another hour, and she was really looking forward to seeing her ‘uncle Jamie’ Christ that kid.

He is officially freaking out. He knows Sam and Colin have called and texted also. Beard did his weird thing of “I know a guy” and left it at that.

Roy is just about to do another lap around the office when he hears Sam yell. He darts out of the room

Jamie.

Jamie covered in blood.

Oh god.

Jamie scans the room ignoring everyone’s questions and panic, he finds Roy. He takes the four steps over to him and collapses. Roy catches him like always, he slowly drops the both of them to the floor, Jamie proceeds to crawl into his lap.

Roy let’s out a noise he refuses to acknowledge. “Not my blood, I’m fine, gonna not talk now kay lads?”

Roy vaguely wonders if Jamie decided to kill his father today but that seems like an unlikely answer.

Beard comes running back in from where he disappeared to take a call.

“Roy we need to talk- oh good god okay good he’s here. There was a car accident. People filmed. Jamie was the first person around, a kid was thrown out the windshield. She uh she didn’t make it off of the scene. He held her. Screamed at people to call 999. Wouldn’t let her go until the ambulance got there. He held her the whole time.”

Roy blinked through tears he could feel starting out of his eyes. Christ fuck morning practice how could they think Jamie was just fucking off, he would never do that.

Sam comes over to where Jamie is staring at the wall behind Roy’s head. Sam sits next to Roy and takes a still bloody hand. Isaac and Colin move in sync, Colin digs out baby wipes, Isaac takes them and kneels down to wipe off the bits of Jamie’s arm that’s not wrapped around Roy’s neck.

Roy presses a kiss to Jamie’s head, a rare sight for the locker room but he feels that it’s allowed. Jamie let’s out a shaky breath. Roy repeats the action, when he pulls back this time though he’s got a plan.

“Alright, everyone our house 40 minutes, Isaac can you pick up Phoebe. We are gonna get Jamie showered off and fine again and then have a quiet movie day.”

Theres a murmur of agreement in the room,

Isaac swaps cars with Roy so he has a kid seat. Everyone leaves the locker room but not without touching Jamie in some sort of way.

Colin lingers for a second with an offer of “need help?” Roy needs to later tell him how grateful he is but he shakes his head no. Colin leave with a nod to go get Phoebe with Isaac.

“Baby can we stand to wash you off?”

Jamie sniffs. He nods his head unfolding himself from Roy’s lap.

Roy stands with a flinch, that’ll hurt more later but not the biggest issue. He slowly undresses Jamie, he tosses all the clothing into a trash can.

Jamie had worn all white today. It was a blinding contrast.

Roy undresses with less care then he did for Jamie, he pulls him into the shower. Roy reaches for Jamie’s body wash, Jamie looks up at him.

“She was about Phoebe’s age. I didn’t know they had that much blood in them that young. She wasn’t even really crying. I think I cried more then she did.”

Jamie gasps like it’s the first time he’s taking a breath.

Roy moves onto his hair now that the blood on Jamie’s skin is washed off. Clearly Jamie ran hands through his hair, the blonde streaks are tinted pink.

“She told me she was happy to be held. That she loved me.” Jamie cuts himself off with a sob. Roy gathers his up to his chest.

What can he even say besides he’s sorry at this point. No one should ever go through this.

“Her uh, her mom was driving, got slammed into by a truck that went through a light. Never saw it coming. She died in the car they said.”

Roy rocks them slowly under the water, “I know I’m sorry isn’t enough but you know I’m here for you. It sounds like you did everything you could’ve.”

Jamie nods again, “paramedics said the same thing, cops too. I was just thinking of Sarah and Phoebe the whole time.”

Roy sighs, he lets the tears he felt earlier come down his face, “I know. When you said mom and daughter I thought the same. But they are both fine, Sarah is at the hospital, Isaac and Colin are picking Phoebe up to bring to our house.”

Jamie sniffs. “Can she stay the night.”

Roy nods. “Course. I think everyone might be staying the night though, don’t think they’ll let you out of their sight any longer then the 40 minutes I asked for.”

Jamie let’s out a wet laugh. “God I really scared everyone didn’t I.” Roy leans down and kisses Jamie “more then any of us could ever tell you.”

Jamie taps Roy’s chest, “let’s go home.”

Roy holds Jamie’s hand. He knows it might take a while but Jamie will be okay eventually.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #colin hughes #sam obisanya #isaac mcadoo #this was painful LMAO #I say that like I didn’t write it #thanks for the ask !!

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