#can someone drag me out of here. or at least knock me out with a sledgehammer

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face Pt.2

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: Tara was devastated you didn't text her. That was until you met her at a party.

word count: 2248

Pt.1

a/n: hey guys, first of all thank you all so much for the overwhelming support 🥹 I didn't expect this much attention at all especially for my first ever pic I've written. Anyways, I'm always open to feedback and requests if you have any. Take note I'm still getting used to this whole Tumblr thing so it may take a while for me to put up master lists and all that stuff (p.s sorry if there's any mistakes, a part of me feels like this lowkey sucks lolz)

It’s been 2 weeks since Tara had last seen you. And during those weeks, Tara’s mind had been fogged by you. Her mind kept repeating your interaction and every time a smile grew on her face. The group of friends had been making fun of her ever since they entered the lift after leaving yours and Chad’s apartment, saying she looked like a kid getting a lollipop for breakfast, all giggly and in a daze, but she didn’t care. 

She wanted to see you again badly. She started plotting and thinking about ways your paths can collide again. Like, she could plan walking in school and “coincidentally” cross paths even though her classroom was nowhere near yours and at least 10 minutes away from your building. But she wouldn’t do that! “I’m not that crazy” Tara thought. But would she? (A teeny tiny part of Tara knows she’s capable of doing so.)

She didn’t have the guts to text you and it’s already been two weeks! A part of her was hoping that you’d text her, but a pang of disappointment hit her when you didn’t. She usually isn’t this hung up on a person like this. Sure, she found some individuals cute from time to time, but she wouldn’t go up to this extend. She wouldn’t chase for someone, but for you, maybe, just a little bit, she would start jogging a little. There was something so.. alluring and appealing about you that Tara couldn’t comprehend. It’s like her mind glitched and was programmed to think about you 24/7.

 Tara was currently lying on her bed occupied by her mind (thinking of you obviously) when there was aggressive knocks on the front door.  “Give me a minute! Jesus..” murmured Tara as she walked towards the threshold. She opened the door which revealed Mindy looking impatient. 

“Dude, are you not dressed yet? We planned to go this party at least a week ago!” 

“Oh shit, I forgot about this Mindy I’m sorry! Give me 15 minutes to get ready” Tara replied apologetically while Mindy rolled her eyes and plopped herself down on the couch, kicking up her feet onto the coffee table and reached for the tv remote. After an excruciatingly long 15 minutes (it was actually 45 minutes), Tara and Mindy were set to leave and make their way to the party that was a few blocks away.

The house reeked of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. The party-goers were dressed casually, with some wearing revealing and tight clothes to attract attention, no doubt trying to get laid. There was r&b and occasionally hip hop music blaring through the speakers. Mindy met up with Anika, dragging her to get a drink to get the night started which made Tara lose track of them, leaving her all alone. Tara’s stomach churned when she kept seeing couples making out in the hallway as she strolled to the kitchen to get a drink. (She kept this like a dirty secret, but she had imagined as if it was you and her making out)

“Hey Tara!” She turned around and saw Chad, with a random girl with his arm around her waist. 

“Chad? I didn’t know you were coming to this party” Tara explained, ignoring the dirty looks and stink eye given from the girl

“Yeah, I didn’t want to actually, but Y/N asked me out to this party and….” Whatever gibberish Chad spewed out was ignored as you occupied Tara’s mind. You were here? Y/N? Chad’s sexy and hot and super cute roommate? She’s doomed. 

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?! Oh god! Oh my god, Do I look good? Do I have anything between my teeth, I knew I should have put on a sexier outfit”

“Tara- Tara calm down. You look good, okay? Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, they called you cute after you guys left the other day.” Chad commented, putting a stop onto Tara’s word vomit. You called her cute? Tara felt butterflies in her stomach. But why didn’t you text her? All Tara could hope for is that the universe is on her side tonight and let her catch a glimpse of you, and preferably not drunk to make a fool of herself and to earn atleast a decent conversation. 

She chugged down the alcoholic drink she made and decided to make one in an instant, trying to get rid of her blush since just thinking of you made her stomach do somersaults. She sat down on the couch, hoping she could see you soon. After almost half an hour, her patience was wearing thin, she hadn’t seen you yet. How even big is this house? Why couldn’t she see you? It was as if this house was alive and kept shifting its walls purposely to block her view of you. She made her way to the kitchen to make a stronger drink. Mindy was probably making out with Anika in a random room anyways so she doesn’t really bother, which left Tara looking like a real loser all alone weeping in the kitchen. 

She chugged down another shot of her drink, before making a new one. As she lifted her head to swallow her drink in one go, she felt a presence behind her. She smelt a scent of a wood, earthy with a reminiscent of smoke notes, along with a subtle smell of sweat. 

“Hey stranger. What’re you doing here all alone?” Tara choked on her drink when she heard your voice. Damn it, even your voice is hot. How does that even work? Tara had a coughing fit, while trying to cover up her blush and not make a fool out of herself (she already did). You made it even worse by wincing slightly and putting your hand on her lower back, rubbing it up and down her back and trying to at least comfort her while she was having a crisis.

“You alright there? Let me get some water for you,” You softly chuckled before proceeding to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water, opening the cap and passing it to Tara which gobbled it down. It took her a few moments to settle down and for her blush to subside.

“Thank you, really. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, I can’t debate with you about horror movies if you’re dead, right?”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Anyway, I didn’t know you were coming to this party. I assumed you were too cool and busy for this type of stuff.” Tara  teased. She took this time to take in the sight of you, you were wearing baggy jeans with a fitting t-shirt, revealing your tattoos. There goes the butterflies in her tummy again.

“I didn’t call in a shift today and I had nothing to do. Plus, it was an impromptu thing to come here since, well, I had a feeling you were going to be here and..I wanted to see you.” You softly chuckled, with your voice lowering at the end. Now it was your turn to start blushing, and Tara found it adorable.

“Well, I’m right here in front of you, cutie. What did you want to talk about?” Tara boldly added in the nickname, in hopes of seeing you blush again. You smiled at the term which revealed those dimples AND your blush. Tara gave her a pat on the back for the double victory. You opened your mouth to give a sly reply back, however your response was cut off by someone calling out for you.

“Y/N!! You in to play some beer pong?” You looked at Tara apologetically for the disruption and invited her to play along with you as a pair.

You both were up against another pair, which was obviously experienced beer pong players at that. You were willing to drink the cups that your opponent successfully had thrown the ball in, but Tara insisted on drinking it while you focus on throwing the ball. Understandably, both of you lost and while you thanked them for the round and lost gracefully, Tara stomped off like a little kid while mumbling swear words to herself, evidently affected by the amount of alcohol she had to drink. You chased for her and found her in the kitchen, mixing different liquids to create an abomination of a drink.

“Tara, you had enough for tonight don’t you think? Let me walk you home.” You suggested while taking her cup away as she was right about to sip it, making her whine. Tara turned around and looked at you as if you had said the most ridiculous sentence she had heard in her lifetime.

“NO!!! Please, let’s just stay a lit-little longer. I p-promise I’ll behave. I just want to spend time with you.” Tara begged and slurring her words, while learning against you for your warmth, and looking up at you with those undeniably adorable doe eyes, giving you the best puppy look she could express.

“We can talk on our way to your apartment, okay? I promise I won’t leave you alone” Tara huffed and rolled her eyes, but continued leaning against you for support. You only made it to the threshold of the exit holding her beside you until you couldn’t handle it anymore with how Tara kept moving around and losing her balance. You offered to give her a piggyback ride, which she immediately accepted after nodding her head enthusiastically.

“Why didn’t- didn’t you text me? I was waiting..waiting for you all along, man, fuck” Tara slurred, having hiccups in between her sentences.

“I’m sorry Tara, would you feel better if I said I was too nervous to text you?” You replied smugly, which made her wrap her arms around your neck a little tighter. You could feel a sudden warmth on the side of your neck, indicating that Tara was blushing. “Cute” You thought.

“Whatever..Whatever, dude. I just wanted to ask what horror movie you preferred,” Tara tried to shrug off and tried to act nonchalant as if your silence for the past 2 weeks didn’t bother her.

“I loved watching Terrifier 2. Art the clown really is a masterpiece,” You softly commented. You’ve reached the entrance of Tara’s apartment and entered the lift, softly asking what level she lives at before the lift door closes. You’re surprised you that didn’t feel tired of carrying her at all. Even after walking atleast 2 miles from the party. Most of the time carrying her home was in silence, since Tara was falling in and out of sleep.

“Me too!! I l-loved watching him kill random people” You walked her towards  her door, slowly getting her on her feet and stabilizing her when she was swaying around clumsily.

“Oh yeah? Well, I heard the new Terrifier 3 is coming out. Maybe we could watch it together during the premier? Like, a date?” You suggested, blush slowly creeping up from your neck to your cheeks. You knocked on the door, hoping Sam was awake to bring her in.

“Yes.” Tara simply replied while nodding insistently. You chuckled at her boldness.

“It’s a date then. We’ll talk about when you’re sober and having a hangover tomorrow, okay?” Tara nodded her head, her arms snaking around your neck to pull you closer. Your hands landed at her waste, feeling her being overly warm, probably from drinking too much. You decided to lean in and give her a kiss on her cheek, holding it for a little longer just to tease the shorter girl.

When you pulled back, you could see her blushing, probably not expecting the kiss. However, she decided to lean in this time, and now aiming for your lips. Just as both your lips brushed each other, the door opened, revealing Sam looking upset with wide eyes. You both pull back, with you coughing awkwardly under Sam’s gaze. Tara entered her apartment after saying her goodbyes, leaving you and Sam. You tried to talk to her, but ended up backfiring after she rolled her eyes and slammed the door on you even before you could utter a syllable. You made your way home and tried to ignore the interaction with Sam by occupying your mind with the younger Carpenter. You know talking to Tara won’t be easy due to her overprotective sister and friends, but you’re always up for a challenge, especially for a girl you’re falling in love with.

On the other side of the door, Sam was relentlessly scolding Tara, since she didn’t inform her of the party she was going to attend and that she had been worried sick the whole day. The least she expected was Mindy or Chad sending her home. Not you. Tara ignored Sam and went in her room, and plopped down on her bed with a huff, and fell asleep not even 5 minutes in.

The next day, Tara woke up with the most excruciating throbbing headache, it got worse when Sam continued her nagging about her going to parties without informing her. It took her awhile to adjust herself, with eating breakfast and taking a hot shower. She realized her phone had died since yesterday and decided  to charge it. When it turned on, the first notification she saw was from you.

Y/N: Heyy, hope you’re feeling better.

Sent at 11.33am.

Y/N: And I’m also hoping you didn’t forget the date we planned. Looking forward to seeing you soon :)

Sent at 11.36am.

[wingsofhcpe]

"yay I don't have work anymore I can chill at home!"

*gets shoved into a medical examination early in the morning stuck inside a claustrophobic waiting room in a hospital stuffed to the brim with other patients & without AC because I guess we gotta save power for the tourists <- unironically what a politician said the other day*

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[divinesolas]

Plagued by you

r.q: requesting this please, alicent's daughter x jacaerys… and an angry confession.. "I burn for you." type ❤️😭 like he wants to her to come with him and be team black.

c.w: Otto doesn't go to Dragonstone you do; alicents daughter!reader, minor angst, dialogue heavy, reader “hates” jacaerys, hints of rhaelicent, not proofread

w.c: 1.6k (finally a shorter jace fic…)

a.n: anthony bridgerton ass confession lmaoo, hope you all enjoy :3

part two part three

You were currently pacing back and forth in the room rhaenyra allowed you to stay in on Dragonstone. You had come to see her, to ask her to declare for Aegon. She had obviously argued back and forth with you, up until nightfall where she said she would retreat for the night and the two of you could finish this tomorrow in the morning before you flew back in the morning. You argued that you would leave right then but only to find out that it had begun to storm so heavily. Realizing you would not be able to travel anywhere in this weather you reluctantly agreed and here you were.

In truth you did not want to come here. You had begged your mother to send someone else to anyone else but she was instant it be you. 

“Mother, why not send grandsire? He will be a much better negotiator than me.” she fiddles with your cloak, a far away look on her face before she moves to cup your face.

“Rhaenyra certainly likes you more than she likes him. She will treat you kindly.”

“She will say no mother you know this.” 

She lets out a trembled sigh and grips your face tightly in her hands and presses her forehead against yours “If not for his sake you must try, for me. For my sake I do not wish for this to go to. To see her harmed.” 

You've always known your mother has a very complicated relationship with rhaenyra if you can even call it that. She hated her, or at least that's what it seemed to be. 

She turns and grabs your bag before giving you a knowing look. 

“And I know you also have some unresolved things, do not deny it. I can recognize that look on your face. You must let these things go. Lest you end up like me.” 

You feel sick at the idea of Him. You hate jacaerys velaryon. Him and his stupid pride, his stupid face. His stupid everything. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him. You never understood how much a person could hate someone seemingly as much as your mother seemed to hate rhaenyra. The way she seemed to be all she could talk and even think about, going on endless rants to the point you felt you knew more about rhaenyra than your own mother. Until you met him. Now though you understood her completely, when you were no more than six jacaerys became the target of your anger.

Due to his torment of your twin brother aemond you quickly began to hate him. You would spend all your free time thinking of him and how to get back at him. The two of you always bickered and argued, when you would look over at him he was always already glaring at you. 

You were more than relieved he and his family were leaving after the incident at driftmark, but there was a part of you that when your days dragged on you began to miss him. Tormenting him of course there was no way you actually wished to spend time with him, there was no way…. Definitely not.

You haven't seen him during your time here. You would think he would be in the room where you were negotiating but he was nowhere to be seen. You did not want to ask about him, though the question has been on the tip of your tongue.

Suddenly there was some aggressive knocking on your door and you froze, turning towards it holding your breath. “Who is it?” there's no answer but you know exactly who it is and hesitant for a moment contemplating if you should even let him in. You end up swiftly making your way towards the door and opening it just a bit, planning on telling him to just go away but before you can say anything he's pushing his way into the room storming past you with an angry look on his way. You lean against the door to support yourself as you feel lightheaded just looking at him. 

“You are an absolutely ridiculous woman.” you do not speak, unable to, only able to watch as he runs his hand through his curls and paces in the room just as you had been. “Do you only wish to torment me?”

“I am here for my brother-” “You should not have come.” there's a venom in his voice and he does not even look at you. You find yourself growing more annoyed at him. “I do not care what you think. I would be gone by now if your mother had not been so stubborn-” he turns to look at you and makes his way to stand right in front of you, barely any space between the two of you. “Jacaerys…” “you do not want your brother to sit the throne.” it was true, as much as you tolerated your brother, the thought of him sitting on the throne disgusted you. He would not be a good king, “you know not of what i believe.” “I know this is true, you shouldn't lie to me.” 

“You act as if you know me.”

He scoffs, turning his head away from you for a moment before looking you dead in the eyes, so close you can feel his breath on your face. “I don't know you? I know that you hate the summer because you get too hot in your long dresses, i know you love whenever the chefs make cake and you would sneak into the kitchen to grab a slice, i know you despise your mothers perfume because it hurts your nose but you could never tell her such a thing because it brings her comfort,” he pauses for a moment moving somehow even closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, “i know when you are lying you scrunch up your nose,” he moves his head to your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent before lifting his head back up and his forehead is against yours once more. “And worst of all I know you desire me as I do you.” 

You shake your head as you suppress a whimper from your neck, “no,,,” “you will not deny it. You will not deny something I know to be true with every bone in my body with every drop of blood in my body.”  

With a long silence between you, neither of you saying a word he pushes away from you and goes back to standing where he was, that angry look back on his face. “You must go.” you look outside and notice that the storm has since stopped, your brain is currently running a mile a minute barely able to think. “I shall head back to the keep-” “that is not far enough!” 

He grips his head in frustration as he begins to pace once more, “you could travel to dorne, to essos to bravos and it would not be far enough to free me from this torment you have put me through, For the thoughts of you that plague my mind to cease to exist. Even after I pass I am sure when I am faded to nothing but bones and ashes the picture of you will be laced where my heart should be.” 

He quickly moves back over to you and cups your face once more bringing himself so explicitly close to you he should be kissing you. The way you two are pressed against each other is more intimate than a kiss, more romantic than any confession. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, unable to control yourself for a while. You want to kiss him, you want him to kiss you. Before you regain the small sense of control you have to push him away from you shaking your head. “I must go home, my mother-” “Stay here. Stay with me.” He stares into you a way nobody else ever has, like he's truly trying to see you and not the facade you put on for everyone else. “My mind, body and soul yearns and burns for you uncontrollably and now that you stand in front of me I cannot take it.” He takes your hand and presses it against his heart where you can feel it being erratically as yours was as well. “Tell me you do not want me and I shall turn my back and allow you to leave. But do not beg me to watch you as I fear my heart cannot take it.” 

He takes another step closer to you and does not break eye contact with you. “Tell me you do not desire me and tell me at once my love, my heart please you must.” 

You shake your head as tears begin to form in your eyes, “I cannot.” “then stay.” you angle your head and kiss him, praying that through your actions he can too understand that you indeed burn for him the way he burns for you. You decide in the moment to say fuck it. Fuck your mother, fuck your brother, fuck the crown and screw everyone and everything else that is not him because you hate him so much that he has fully consumed every part of you like a parasite. Yet you have done the same to him. 

[ak4e7a]

making him a daddy —- enha hyung line

if you haven’t read my mother’s day special, Men I Love Fucking, click here first!

cw: all of it. all. humiliation, lactation, filming, degradation, dom!hyung line. daddy kink galore. if you don’t have one rn, you’re about to get one!

a/n: belated hbd nessa :3 jay is for u and u only <3 sorry to my freakhoon believers for edging you with this for like two weeks, it will happen again

minors dni, 18+ only.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚₊

heeseung literally cannot stop fucking you ever since you got pregnant—or maybe a little before that, but he’ll never admit it. what started as a one night stand when your best friend, his sister, was asleep and you “accidentally” walked in on him fucking his fist in his room quickly became a friends-with-benefits situation… or so you thought.

“fuck, baby,” he groans in your ear, his voice low so as to not make too much noise. after all, your best friend is, once again, asleep in the next room. he slides his cock in between your folds. “you keep getting so wet for me, how can i stay away from you?”

except… he kind of has to stay away from you, when you tell him you’re actually dating someone now. someone who isn’t him. heeseung doesn’t take the news too well, and honestly, he’s valid for that. he’s pissed off, to say the least.

“carrying my fucking baby and you’ve got the nerve to be with someone else?” he growls, hips smacking into your ass roughly. you clutch harder onto the pillow you’re holding, tears prickling in your eyes as he pounds into your cunt, one hand over your mouth.

“seungie—” you gasp when he moves his hand down to pinch at your swollen tits.

he tsks in your ear. “uh-uh, little bunny. that’s not what you should be calling me right now.”

“hee—” your moans are getting harder to contain as you get dangerously close to your climax. heeseung can tell, too, and he slows down his movements, even going so far as to cup your little baby bump.

“nope. try again,” he demands, the lazy drag of his cock along your gummy walls making your eyes cross in pleasure. he gives you one rough thrust when you hesitate, skimming his hand down to press right above your mound so he can feel his cock from the outside, causing you to cry out,

“daddy!”

“there we go, mama. that wasn’t so hard, was it? now tell me again. who’s your fucking daddy?”

———

jay put a ring on your finger literally hours after you showed him your positive pregnancy test. he damn near bought the entire jewelry store for you—that’s how happy he was, knowing he’d finally succeeded in successfully knocking you up. and now, in your second trimester, you’re just as happy. sprawled out on the silk sheets of your shared bed, your fiancé shows you exactly just how much he adores you.

“jay,” you whimper, staring into his eyes. his hands hold himself up above you, caging your head in. you can feel the cold metal of his rolex watch graze against your cheek as he nudges himself inside you. “i love you…”

“i love you more,” he coos back. he lets out a hiss as he bottoms out, balls pressed snugly against your ass. “my princess.”

you wiggle underneath him, desperately trying to move your hips for more friction. “need you, please, need more!”

“you have all of me, angel,” he chuckles, breath warm on your skin, the scent of his cologne flooding your sense of smell. “what more could i give you?”

you both know he’s teasing you—and torturing himself while he does it. jay has to give into you eventually. he always does, no matter what it is. his soft brown eyes flicker downwards, transfixed on the way your tits bounce as he starts to fuck you open, his thrusts somehow both gentle and rough.

you don’t even have time to ask him what he’s doing or why he’s staring so intently when he ducks his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth and starts sucking… but it feels different this time, the sensation forcing your orgasm closer and closer. then it clicks for you. jay’s been so entranced by the way your tits have started to grow, he’d been hanging off of your every word that morning when you were complaining that you’d started lactating and needed to buy new bras.

excited at this revelation, you tease him back. “tastes good, daddy?”

you know calling him that specific name makes him rock hard. you can literally feel him somehow grow bigger inside you, forcing your walls to stretch open some more for his cock. he throbs inside you, hips stilling when he pushes his cock all the way down to the hilt, tip kissing your cervix.

“want more, daddy?” you purr, pushing your chest closer to his face. he doesn’t give you an answer, but as you feel your milk leak into his hot mouth, you take that as an enthusiastic yes.

“thank you for making me a daddy, angel girl,” he mumbles before latching on again and sucking—hard.

———

jake is absolutely nasty. besotted with his best friend’s mother? but you’re hot as fuck, can anyone blame him? can anyone truly blame him when you’ve got him on his knees, eating your pussy from behind while he strokes his cock?

“feels good, mommy?” he moans, his voice partially muffled between your legs. his nose nudges between your folds, and you gasp at how fucking messy he’s being. you don’t think this boy could get any more depraved until you feel his veiny hands grab at your asscheeks and shake them into his face.

“good, so good!” you sob into your pillow, pushing your pussy towards his tongue.

he pulls away from you, ignoring your cries of protest, grabbing his phone from where it's recording you two on the nightstand.

“need to get you on camera up close, mommy. wanna film it so i can watch it later when i need you.”

“jakey—” you begin, but you’re cut off when he begins to push the tip of his cock past your soaked folds.

“no, shh, mommy. ‘m so fuckin’ close, i gotta breed you now, wanna cum in you so bad. will you let me?”

you nod, turning your head just enough to make eye contact with your lover as he pushes himself inside you. he’s got the most fucked out, pussy drunk expression in his face, pretty eyes half lidded, pretty mouth formed in a euphoric O-shape.

“c’mon, mommy, rub your clit for me,” he whines, pumping his cock into you. "’n if i'm calling you mommy, might as well make me a daddy while we're at it, yeah? does mommy want my cum?”

“yes, please, please cum in me!” you squeal, overstimulated as you rub your clit while jake pounds against your g-spot.

“ask me properly, mommy,” he suddenly growls, fucking you harder and harder so he can cum.

“daddy, please! want your cum!”

he gives it to you, he really does. he cums deep into your cunt and pulls out, making sure that the camera catches it on film as his cum leaks out of you and down your thighs.

“hm. looks like we should try one more time just to be sure, right, mommy?”

———

sunghoon has been in a mood recently. a very particular mood; one that has you pinned on the bed in a mating press every night when he comes home from work. you’ve noticed lately that your younger boyfriend— “i’m only three years younger than you,” he likes to argue— has taken a liking to wearing neckties to work, knotting them over the collar of his pristine white button down shirts that fit so nicely over his muscular arms.

now his black prada tie is knotted around your wrists, stacked behind your back while you’re draped over his lap, squirming uncontrollably, skirt flipped up to expose you to him.

"oh, these are cute, baby. you wear them for me? you look so pretty in pink."

you hum in response and he spanks you right where you need him most.

"that's not an answer, brat. use your words."

"y-yes sunghoon! 's for you!!"

he's so condescending when he replies, "what a smart little girl you are. manipulative little brat. wearing my favorite color, acting all whiny and desperate for me since you begged me to come home early from work not one hour ago..."

"you're the one who came running," you snap back, annoyed at his teasing. wrong move. he effortlessly lifts you up off his lap and onto the bed. he pushes your panties to the side and slides his cock inside you all the way, with no time for you to ease into the stretch.

"you fucking brat. am i gonna have to punish you all night to put you in your place? want me to fuck you and dump my load in your pathetic little cunt and leave you to finish yourself off? because i will, little girl. don't forget who's the only one who can make you cum this hard."

you try to fuck yourself on his cock and he's not having it at all. "brat, what did i just say? disobedient fucking slut, all you want is my cock. apologize to me and beg, and maybe i'll make you squirt all over me and this fucking bed."

"s-sorry hoonie..."

his hand comes crashing down on your ass.

"pathetic. try again, pretty."

"i'm sorry daddy, i'm sorry for being a brat!"

"fucking hell, princess, you beg so sweetly. you want me to fuck you full of my cum? want me to knock you up and parade you around in front of everyone, let them know who you belong to?"

you pout at him, batting your eyelashes the way you know he can't resist. "please, daddy?”

“that’s a good girl. you better remember who’s in charge the next time you wanna brat out on me, hm?”

[pathologicalreid]

wake me from this dream | s.r.

in which you're struggling to come to terms with the kiss between Spencer and Cat, and you've finally reached your breaking point

margotober

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: cat adams, spoilers for 15x6 "date night", cheating word count: 1.44k a/n: rah rah rah not really sure how i feel about this one tbh!! let me know what you think because i'm my own worst enemy. this was a request so i hope i can at least appease the requester!!

Everything felt different. You had never felt so out of place somewhere you should fit in like a piece of a puzzle, but you had lost so many pieces of this puzzle that you didn’t think it would ever be put together again.

The sheets on Spencer’s bed – that you had picked out – were so rough that they grated against your skin, but they didn’t always feel that way. You tried so hard, tried to fall back into the rhythm that you felt with Spencer before his date, but there were so many befores with Spencer that you were starting to lose track of them all.

Maybe you just didn’t get it. You didn’t get it the way the members of the BAU did. You closed your eyes and you saw your boyfriend kissing Cat Adams – someone you thought was in the past. 

So, you went back to routine, spending most of your time at Spencer’s apartment, you slept next to him at night, and everything looked the same, but it all felt wrong. Your relationship had once again been spurred into a state of limbo and you were beginning to think this was the one that you couldn’t come back from.

Eyeing your clothing on the floor where it had been haphazardly discarded upon your return from Rossi’s party, you sighed, listening to the running water in the shower as Spencer cleansed the day away. He had offered for you to join him, but you opted for a later shower, not interested in sharing the warmth of the water. Looking at the bathroom door, cracked open to let steam out, you slipped out of bed and crouched to pull your clothes off the floor before opening the drawer of the things you kept here and putting on something more comfortable than the dress you had worn to dinner.

You took the inside of your cheek between your molars before taking another glance back at the bathroom door and pulling on an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt. In your haste to get ready for tonight, you had forgotten to bring different shoes, so you looked more than a little disheveled as you slipped on your heels. Then again, maybe passersby would just assume it was another night in the District of Columbia.

Quietly, you closed the door to Spencer’s apartment, locking the door behind you and allowing your fingertips to linger on the handle. Finally convincing yourself to head out, you raked a hand through your hair and made your way out to your car. When would he notice you had gone? Would he mind? Would he call?

Turning the key in the ignition, you sighed as the cool air blew through the vents of your car, and without another thought, you checked your rearview mirror and drove home.

It felt like a rather unceremonious end to your relationship with Spencer, the person who everyone was expecting you to be with forever. You just never expected forever to have an expiration date.

This couldn’t be the end, though. You didn’t want yourself to be another victim at the hands of a hitwoman, but that was just what she wanted. Wasn’t it?

Your fears all came to mind while you dragged yourself through your shower routine, scrubbing every inch of your body as you considered your options. Without the presence of your boyfriend, you thought about what you really wanted.

You didn’t even hear the knocking until you got out of the shower. At first, you thought it was one of your neighbors, but as you pulled on clean pajamas, you realized it was your door. You checked out the peephole to see Spencer, hair still wet, looking agitated. You had done that to him.

Opening the door, your stomach flipped as he looked at you with an unidentifiable emotion in his eyes, “You just left.” He shrugged, the misery in his voice was made plain and it hurt you like a knife to the chest.

“I-“ you started, quickly snapping your mouth shut. What were you going to say? I didn’t mean to hurt you – but, hadn’t you? Hadn’t you intended on walking away?

Spencer held his hand up, signaling for you to stop, “I had been starting to wonder if you resented me.”

His words hit you like a strike across the face, “What?” Your question came out as light as a breath, there was a litany of emotions that you felt for Spencer, but resentment was far from any of them. He must have come right away, droplets of water still fell from his hair with every slight movement.

“I put your family in danger,” he answered as if that completely answered your question.

You frowned, “Cat and Juliet put my family in danger,” you corrected.

Spencer shook his head dismissively, “And neither of them would even know who you are if it wasn’t for me.”

Your lips parted, looking for the right words to put him at ease, “I don’t care about that.”

He furrowed his brows, obviously confused at your statement, “You don’t?”

“No,” you informed him, “I mean, I cared at the time because my family was in danger.”

Taking a deep breath, Spencer dragged a hand down his face, “Please, Y/N… I just…” his voice trailed off for a moment before coming back, “Just spell it out for me, baby. I can’t guess. I can’t.”

You mouth felt dry as you leaned your head against the doorframe, looking up at him with sorrow-filled eyes, “You kissed her, Spence.” Your voice was soft, “You kissed her and we never spoke about it again.”

Each stage of grief crossed over your boyfriend’s face as he took in the full weight of what you just told him, “I thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it. I have been trying so hard to put everything back to the way it was before any of… this happened.”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “You can’t!” You told him earnestly, “It’s just… you can’t!” You said recognizing that you were beginning to raise your voice in the heat of the moment, and the last thing you needed tonight was a noise complaint. You opened your door for Spencer to come in, and he barreled through the doorway like he was on a mission. You took a deep breath, “Things are too different now, Spencer. It can’t go back to the way that it was. We aren’t machinery, there’s no reset button for this.”

The hurt in his expression was so palpable that you nearly excused yourself to sit down, but you stood your ground and met him stare for stare. “What are you saying?” He asked, his voice gentle, like he was waiting for a fatal blow.

“I’m saying that we can’t keep going on like this,” you said helplessly, “I can’t keep going on like this.” Don’t let this be the end. Don’t let this end. Spencer, please.

Spencer shook his head, frowning for a moment before looking around your apartment, “Move in with me.”

Your jaw dropped, “Pardon?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated. “Move in with me and we can make it different. We can move somewhere else if you don’t want to move to my place, but I can’t… I can’t lose you, so let’s do something different.”

Now you really did need to sit down, “I can’t…” you swallowed your tears before they had a chance to emerge, “I can’t move in with you if this is just you looking at losing me and making an extreme decision to stop that from happening.”

Kneeling in front of you, Spencer took both of your hands and clasped them in his, “I am asking you to move in with me, unhindered and uninfluenced, because I love you. You want to see change, right? This is change. This is different and new and it’s nothing like before, so we won’t have to compare it to anything.”

You studied his eyes as they bore into your own, “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I’ll beg,” he insisted, “I’m already on my knees, just say the word, baby.”

It was impossible to resist the smile that grew on your face, “When did you get so dramatic?”

He sighed, his shoulders slouching forward as he set his forehead on your conjoined hands, “So, we should start apartment hunting? Or we could buy a house?”

You reclaimed one of your hands, wiping tears from your face before playing with his messy, damp hair, “Yeah,” you whispered, “but I’m not moving any of your books.”

[honnelander]

tart

HERE WE GO EVERYONE. the long awaited jealous!Sanji fic!! AKA a prequel to the main go fish! storyline!! this fic takes place before the main events in go fish! but after they met at the Baratie. and don't worry, part 3 for the main series will be on the way. enjoy!! request: i was wondering if you’d consider making a lil imagine/blurb about sanji being jealous of someone flirting with the reader? like imagine zoro and the reader just talking and then zoro suddenly leans closer and whispers to her “it seems we’ve got an audience” or smth like that

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.7k

pairing: jealous opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: Sanji watches Zoro and reader talk and gets jealous. Nami tries to calm him down but fails.

go fish! series: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @nimtano @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera

“Reading that garbage again?” a voice called out. 

At hearing the question, you glanced up from your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book, only to see a calm Zoro casually stroll over to you with a hint of amusement on his face.  

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t knock it till you try it, oh great sword master,” you playfully jabbed as you shook out the book to him as he leaned his back against the ship’s front railing, resting his elbows on top of it. “The almighty Zoro isn’t allergic to reading, is he?” 

Zoro snorted, glancing down at your cross-legged position on top of a crate before returning his sights to the Going Merry’s deck and the open ocean. “Yeah, I am allergic,” he agreed. “Allergic to reading that monstrosity you call a book.” 

“Ooo, ‘monstrosity’. That’s a mighty big word for a non-reader like yourself, Zoro. Good job,” you teased as you marked your page before closing the book and joining your friend in looking across the deck and out towards the ocean. 

The green-haired swordsman crossed his arms. “I read.” 

“Mmhm,” you hummed, not convinced. “Sure you do.” 

“I do,” he defended in a gruff voice. 

“Oh yeah? Here, I’ll make it easy for you: tell me about one book you’ve read.” 

Zoro scoffed. “I can tell you about way more than one.” 

You couldn’t help the surprised noise that came out of you. “Oh, yeah? ’More than one’?” you asked with a raised brow and glanced up at your fellow straw hat, trying to wipe off the grin on your face.  

You were certainly surprised that Zoro has read more than one book in his lifetime, but you weren’t surprised that he took your earlier question as a challenge. Classic Zoro, you thought in amusement. The guy could never pass up a challenge, no matter what it was about. 

So, you repositioned yourself on your crate, making yourself comfortable for the discussion ahead. “Alright, come on,” you said and sat up straighter, urging Zoro on, “let’s hear it. Tell me all about them.” 

From the back of the ship, on the upper deck above the kitchen, a certain chef took a long drag on his cigarette as he watched you and his least favorite swordsman be engrossed in conversation. Sanji removed the butt of his cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and index finger, keeping the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could, before slowly exhaling the smoke from his nostrils, his eyes never leaving the two of you. 

“Daaamn, Sanji,” Usopp drawled as he messed with the sails on the ship’s mast nearby, glancing at the chef for a second before returning to his knots. “You look like a smoking dragon. All ferocious and mean. And....extra smokey.” 

Sanji’s gaze didn’t budge, Usopp’s words not fazing the cook in the slightest. “Oh yeah? And what of it knot-boy?” he asked with a slight edge to his words, taking another drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his lips. 

At Sanji’s snarky question, Usopp recoiled and looked back at Sanji more closely with a confused expression. It was rare for Sanji to lose his cool or be in a bad mood for no reason, unless he was going back and forth in an argument with Zoro but even then, the blonde chef usually took those in stride with a smile, much to Zoro’s annoyance, so this was new. 

“Aren’t those things supossed to calm you down?” Usopp asked as he nodded to the cigarette in the cook’s hand. 

“I am calm,” Sanji rebuked a little too quickly to be true.  

Usopp then noticed how intent Sanji’s stare was towards something at the front of the ship and raised an eyebrow. Whatever he was staring at must be pissing him off because the chef’s gaze looked absolutely lethal. What the hell could be making him so mad? Usopp followed Sanji’s gaze, looked towards the front of the ship, and saw....y/n and Zoro talking? 

To Usopp, it looked like they were just having a normal conversation, but when he saw y/n laugh at something Zoro said, hitting his arm with a grin and Zoro having a slight smile, he heard Sanji scoff loudly in disgust and mutter something under his breath. 

And in that moment, it dawned on Usopp what was up, and it was hard for him to contain his shit eating grin: Sanji was jealous. Sanji was jealous of y/n and Zoro. To Usopp, it looked like a completely normal conversation between friends since he knew of y/n’s affections for the blonde cook. But to Sanji? It probably seemed like a complete flirt fest, and he was jealous. 

Up until this point Usopp had thought y/n’s crush was only one sided. Sure, he’s had his suspicions ever since Sanji seemed to stare at y/n more often than not, but Usopp was still just a guy at the end of the day, so he never considered if Sanji might actually have feelings for y/n too.  

But now? Oh boy- Usopp was all caught up to speed and he couldn’t wait to meddle in their budding relationship and tease the heck out of them both for it (when the time was right, of course).  

Usopp looked back over at Sanji and wiped off his grin as best he could. “You say somethin’ Sanji?” he asked innocently, knowing damn well the chef said absolutely nothing. “I thought I heard you mutter something.” 

Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “No.” 

“Oh. Must just be the wind then...” 

Suddenly, y/n’s laughter could be heard from the ship’s front and Sanji nearly snarled in disgust and shook his head. “What the-” Sanji started but let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s not even funny,” Sanji complained before taking another hit on his cigarette. 

Usopp couldn’t help himself, he had to poke the bear. “Who, Zoro? I think he’s funny.” 

The blonde chef let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, funny looking.” 

He also had to twist the knife. “Well, y/n seems to think he’s funny.”  

Sanji chuckled to himself and stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating Usopp’s words. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he muttered and took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and immediately lighting up a fresh one. 

Unbeknown to the cook and slingshot fighter, standing underneath them and near the tangerine trees was the Going Merry’s orange-haired navigator, who had heard their whole conversation. 

------------- ----- 

“Zoro!” You laughed loudly and hit your crewmate on his bicep. “Reading books on how to dismember your opponents doesn’t count as real reading!” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Zoro’s face as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Says you. Can you tell me fifty different ways on how to cut up a body? No? I didn’t think so.” 

“Fair enough,” you relented good naturedly with a small laugh as you shook your head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” 

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you let out a small sigh, watching the waves crash. 

After a few quiet beats, however, you felt Zoro lean into your personal space as he lowly murmured, “Don’t look now, but it seems like we have an audience.” 

You blinked in confusion as your eyebrows pulled together. “What? An audience? Where?” Completely disregarding Zoro’s instructions, you immediately started looking around the ship. “Watching what?” 

“Us,” Zoro said simply and returned to his full height. 

You shook your head in disbelief. “What? Us? Now who would be watching-” you started to say but the rest of your sentence died in your throat when you saw piercing blue eyes staring right you both. “...us?” you finished slowly.  

Sanji? Sanji was your audience? But- why? What? You were so confused. Even from this far away, you could tell something was off with him. His posture was stiff and the usual smile that adorned his features whenever he saw you was nowhere to be seen.  

“When did he get here? I didn’t know he was on deck...” you trailed off, about to move to hop off the crate and make your way over to Sanji to see what the matter with him was when something stopped you.  

Before you could hop off the crate, you saw Sanji put out his cigarette and make his way off the deck and head down into the kitchen, not sparing you another glance. As you made your way across the deck, about to follow him into the kitchen, Usopp quickly called out to you from up on the ship’s mast, asking for your help with knot tying since ‘yours were so much better than his’. You agreed with a small sigh, not wanting Usopp to struggle by himself, so you made your way to the mast and started climbing, but not before sparing the entryway to the kitchen one last glance. 

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji flittered around, grabbing random ingredients he saw at first glance. Mushrooms? Grabbed. A block of cheese? Sure. Corn? Ok. Tomatoes? Sure, whatever. 

As he looked down at the growing pile of ingredients on the counter, he stopped for a second to examine the pile, putting his hands in his pockets. What the hell was he supposed to make out of this? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, and it was bothering the absolute hell out of him. The kitchen had always been his sanctuary, a place where he could always rely on to decompress and escape from his thoughts as he got swept away in the act of cooking that came so naturally to him. Usually. 

But today? His natural instincts weren’t there. He felt his chef’s mind drawing up a blank on how to mix all of these items together and the longer he stood there, the more ticked off he became. On a normal day, he’d have thought up of 15 different dishes he could make and already have been busy at work making one of those ideas come to life. But now? There was nothing. No ideas swirling around in his head, nothing.  

He could feel his face twist up in irritation the longer he was standing there until finally, he let out a short, brusque sigh, muttering, “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?” 

“You’re the chef, aren’t you supposed to figure that out or something?” 

The blonde chef glanced up from the pile and saw Nami casually strolling in from the deck and up to the counter opposite of him, hands clasped behind her back, with a curious eyebrow raised.  

Instantly, to cover up his sour mood, the cook plastered on a fake smile. “Well, it seems my mind is a little blank at the moment, Darling. Why don’t you come over here and help me come up with an idea or two?” he offered with a wink, taking his hands out to lean against the counter. 

But Nami saw right through him. “I’m good, thanks,” she declined bluntly. Nami wasn’t sure when she had become the Going Merry’s pseudo-therapist, especially since this crew hadn't been together for more than 3 months at this point, but someone had to be, and she figured the only way to get Sanji to talk right now would be if he was doing something he loved: cooking. “Actually,” she started offhandedly, “I have a request for you.” 

Now that immediately got the cook’s attention. “Oh?” he asked with a raised brow, straightening up as he dropped the fake flirty persona. 

“Yeah,” she said aloud, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself that she actually had a request for the cook. From behind her back, she pulled out a couple of tangerines. With a slight smile and raised brow, she said matter-of-factly, “If I remember correctly, I believe I was told I could ask for a tangerine tart anytime I’d like?” 

A genuine smile came across Sanji’s face at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he laughed with a nod. “The Madam is correct.” He took the fruits from Nami’s hands and placed them on the counter, pushing away his bizarre pile of ingredients to make room. “One tangerine tart coming right up,” he said and started bustling around the kitchen with purpose this time, pulling out the necessary ingredients, a far cry from his movements a couple of minutes ago. 

Seeing Sanji occupied, Nami took a seat at the table, sitting where she had left her charting journal and reading glasses from breakfast that morning. She opened her journal back up and put her glasses on, flipping through the pages and resuming her sketch of her latest map.  

Both of them worked in silence for a few minutes, both engrossed in their respective activities until Nami broke it. Before speaking, she snuck a glance at the chef, making sure he was preoccupied before she started prodding and sure enough, he was. Perfect. 

“You know, I never told anyone this before,” Nami started, laying the groundwork for Sanji to open up, creating a tit for tat sort of thing, “but I actually love tangerine tarts.” 

Sanji huffed slightly with a slight smile, not looking up from his work. “Oh yeah? Well, be prepared to fall in love with them all over again.” He started pouring heavy cream into a separate bowl, adding sugar before whisking it all together. “Even Zeff used to say I made a mean tangerine tart.” 

Nami hummed. “Maybe you can make Zoro fall in love with them too,” she said casually, sneaking a quick look at Sanji, only to see him press his lips together in a firm line and start to whisk the cream harder at the mention of the swordsman. “Or y/n,” she added quickly. “I don’t think she’s ever had one either.” 

At the mention of you, Sanji’s face and motions relaxed slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I...think you’re right about that.” 

The orange-haired girl rotated her journal ninety degrees. She decided to prod a little harder. “I think I saw them talking earlier.” 

Sanji simply hummed in agreement, cracking eggs into a bowl, staying silent. With the third egg, however, he cracked it a little too hard on the counter, causing the raw egg contents to splatter everywhere and onto his black blazer.  

“Ah- fucking hell,” he muttered in disgust, throwing the broken eggshell into the trash before cleaning his hands off in the sink. 

Nami looked up from her work and quirked an eyebrow at her crewmate. “You good?” 

The blonde cook shook his head once with a sardonic smile. “Never better,” he quipped. 

Ok, she couldn’t do this dance anymore. Nami closed her journal and took off her glasses, looking straight at him. “Alright, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? You’re acting weird, even for you.” Sanji opened his mouth to protest but Nami spoke before he could. “And don’t lie to me.” 

Mouth still open, Sanji exhaled slowly and deflated. “I- I’m fine.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Sanji-” 

Upon hearing his name, Sanji blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Nami rarely called him by his name.  

“Cut the bullshit,” she continued. “I heard your conversation with Usopp and you certainly didn’t sound ‘fine’.” 

Sanji was caught red-handed. With what exactly? He didn’t really know but he did know he was caught in a lie because he definitely did not feel fine. He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss for words. “I...” he sighed and took off his ruined blazer, draping it over the back of an empty chair, rolling up his sleeves as he avoided Nami’s expectant stare. He grabbed a dirty rag and started cleaning the egg off the counter. “I don’t know...” 

“Sanji, you can barely crack an egg.” 

That brought out a short bark of laughter from the chef. “Yeah,” he relented. “Obviously.” 

“Is this because of your jealously over y/n and Zoro?” 

“My- my what? My jealously?” he sputtered and scoffed, still not looking Nami in the eye. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why on earth would I be jealous over that stick in the mud?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nami played along, tapping her temple, pretending she was deep in thought. “Maybe because you saw and heard them laughing from all the way across the ship?” she pointed out. When Sanji tried to wave off her accusations with an unconvincing smile, Nami decided to just go in for the kill. If Sanji wasn’t going to admit his obvious liking towards her female crewmate and friend himself, then she’d have to do it for him. “Maybe....maybe because you might have a little crush on y/n?” she offered with a raised brow, staring right at him. 

“Wh-what?? A crush?” Sanji quickly rebuked, jerking his head back. “What are we? Little kids?” 

From her spot at the table, Nami could swear she saw a faint dusting of pink appear on his cheeks. She smirked to herself. She got him. “Well,” she shrugged, “it doesn’t matter how old we get, we all get crushes from time to time.” 

You? A crush? Sanji shook his head as he resumed making the tangerine tart. Labeling whatever feelings he had for you as simply a ‘juvenile crush’ didn’t feel right to him. You were more than that, and you didn’t deserve to be labeled as such. “No, she’s not a crush.” 

“Oh, so you like-like her?” Nami said like it was obvious. “You like her as more than just a friend.” 

“I-” Sanji started but stopped himself and sighed, feeling his irritation grow the longer this conversation went on. Now even the kitchen wasn’t bringing him peace? First, smoking and now this? What was next? “Why does it matter? All of a sudden, my love life is interesting to you and up for debate? I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” 

Nami watched his jaw tense and his body become stiff as he started zesting the tangerines. Clearly whatever feelings Sanji was dealing with, he wasn’t ready to openly talk about them, so she decided to back off.

She put her hands up in surrender, slumping back in her chair as she said, “Hey, I’m...I’m sorry. You’re right.” Deciding to give the chef his space, she gathered her belongings and stood up, making her way to the counter. “If you ever need to...talk or anything, I’m here,” she offered quietly. In a normal tone, she added, “Let me know when the tarts are ready. I really do want y/n and Zoro to try one.” 

Speaking of the devil, you came into the kitchen from the deck, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sanji cooking. Seeing Sanji cook was one of your favorite things and you always loved to guess what he was making. “Sanji! Ooo, what are you making?” 

Nami watched as Sanji’s whole demeanor change at the sight of you, like a switch being flipped on. She couldn’t help but smile knowingly between you both. “I’ll be in my room,” she announced before making her way out of the kitchen, leaving you both alone. 

Sanji had a wide smile, shoulders relaxing as his eyes lit up. “Why don’t you guess? Give it your best shot.” 

“Oh! I love this game. Ok, let’s see,” you said as you surveyed the ingredients laid out before you. “I see flour, sugar, butter and tangerines...are you making a tangerine cake or something?” 

Whatever jealousy or anger he had been feeling all day just instantly disappeared once he was with you. He felt like himself again, all carefree and lighthearted as he chuckled at your guess. “Not quite, Missus. But nice try,” he said as he looked into your eyes with a crooked smile. 

Missus. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and you felt your insides became all warm. You hoped your face didn’t give away your swooning. He's never called you that before and you hoped to God that he would never stop. 

“Ah, my bad,” you laughed embarrassedly. “What are you making then?” 

“I, am making a tangerine tart,” he proudly stated as he grabbed another egg, perfectly cracking it this time. “At the request of the ship’s navigator.” 

A wide grin broke out across your face. “No way!!” you squealed eagerly, causing Sanji to laugh. “I’ve always wanted to try one!”  

The blonde chef nodded. “Yes, she did mention that actually.” After a beat, he added, “I hope you like it.” 

“Of course I will,” you said without hesitation. “I know I haven’t known you for that long, but it seems like everything you make is phenomenal. You’re the best cook I know.” 

Normally, nearly everyone compliments his cooking (except for Zoro) and he never really thought anything of it. He knew was the best cook in the East Blue and someday, the whole world when he found the All Blue. But hearing that compliment from you? How you said it so easily and with such certainty? He felt a funny, warm feeling deep within his chest and when he looked at you, just like how you knew for certain that he was the best chef around, he knew right then that you really were the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. 

So, yeah. Nami was right. He guessed he did have a little crush on you, or ‘like-liked’ you- whatever she was saying.  

“Do you mind if I watch?” 

Your question broke the little staring trance he was in, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you as he tried to refocus on the task before him. He truly had to make sure this was the best tart he’s ever made. 

He nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. God, he was probably acting like an excited puppy, but he couldn’t help himself. “Of course you can,” he agreed with a small smile. 

As you pulled up a stool to sit on the opposite side of the counter, Sanji realized something: him cooking in the kitchen with you sitting nearby? That’s something he could get used to and get used to very quickly. 

[shslbunnylover]

Can I request a fic where Natasha romanoff and the reader are married for tax pourposes, and nat fogets she's married until someone starts talking about her wife that they met on a mission?

With mean nat, and some smut?

🥝

★ ★ ★ A much needed reminder ★ ★ ★

Character: Natasha Romanoff

Summary: After Natasha forgets about your marriage that was based on convenience, she realizes just how much she loves you.

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, slight angst and mention of unrequited love, Daddy kink, choking kink, slight spanking, rough sex, mean(ish) Natasha, G!P Natasha (with condom), slight dacryphilia,

Genre: Smut

Author's Note: I've been revived!!

Word Count: 4.02k

Natasha Romanoff. Feared Avenger, skilled assassin, and your wife. Well...not so much the last part. Your relationship was mostly out of convenience, leaving you, who had fallen in love with Natasha a few months into your relationship, heartbroken and bitter against the world. You were literally married to this woman, yet she was nothing more than a stranger most nights.

The two of you had lived in the Avengers Tower for around a year when she brought the concept of a convenience-based marriage. She dragged you into a dark room, and you had honestly believed that you were about to meet death right then and there until she had dropped that bombshell.

"We need to get married," She had stated bluntly, looking down at you as you sat in the chair she had practically forced you into.

"Huh-? Natasha, what the hell??" You replied, looking up at the redhead as the slight slivers of light from the window illuminated her sharp green eyes as they stared down at you.

A few long moments pass, the only noise in the room being that of her and you breathing.

She sighed, just blinking for a minute before sitting down.

"Look, Y/N..." Natasha began, twirling a pen on her fingers, the ball point moving quickly as it spun around in her hand.

Your vision fell to the pen, then back up to the assassin.

"Out of every Avenger here, you're the one I'm most comfortable doing this with. This isn't anything romantic, but it's purely for our benefit," She explained, her hands placed on the table as she leaned in.

"Our benefit? How exactly?" You looked at her curiously, becoming intrigued by the offer against your better judgment.

"Tax benefits, credits to be specific. It would also be a way for you to ward off those annoying ass fans of yours," Natasha's head gestured to your left towards the only window (and light source) in the room that gave a view of the city below.

You sighed, you knew that last statement was true. As an Avenger, when you gained strength you would also have creepy and obsessed fans who would devote their life to you in some parasocial relationship. Being single didn't help that either, and with having The Black Widow holding your hand out in public acting as your wife, you knew the amount of obsessed fans (public ones at least) would decrease.

"You don't have to agree to this, but if you want it, meet me in my compound later," She'd said before leaving the room.

You sat in that room for a long while, debating your options.

But eventually you came to a conclusion.

"Natasha?" You knocked on the redhead's door, sighing as she opened the door. "We have a deal."

You barely managed to see the notoriously rude Avenger crack a small smile.

"Alright, we'll figure out the legal shit in the morning," Her smile dropped once again, before gently shutting the door.

The two of you were married in the courthouse after less than a week following the conversation in the room, leaving you married in the eyes of the general public and more importantly the government and tax office.

Nothing had really changed between you two in terms of your emotional connection. Sure the other Avengers would tease you about being married and would constantly compare the two of you to complete rocks when it came to the love in your marriage, but you didn't mind because you and her were only in this for convenience, it wasn't like you actually liked each other.

That last fact however, changed around a year into your "marriage".

You sat alone in the main lounge room in the tower, most of the others out on some minor missions, almost the entire crew excluding you and Natasha, who had been injured in a previous mission and was forced to stay at the compound. As her "spouse", the rest of the crew sacrificed you to stay with her under yet another one of their "funny" jokes against your arrangement. You didn't really mind being told to stay in the building though, it gave you a free day off.

Turned on in the background was some random reality TV show that consisted more of fake tears and drama then any actual real glimpse of human emotion, but it was still your vice nonetheless.

With your feet propped on the couch and a bowl of leftover Chinese food in your hands, you watched the show on the television with lazy eyes. You didn't have any real responsibilities at the moment, Natasha was way too stubborn to even think about letting you take care of her, no matter how "married" you may have been to the rest of the team.

About an hour passed when you heard the assassin's voice come out of the hallway in a groan.

"Ah shit-" She grimaced, walking down the hallway, her stubborn self still refusing any help, even in the form of leaning on the wall.

"Nat?" You paused the TV, placing your bowl of rice on the table before standing up to see what was going on behind you.

"What-?" She gritted her teeth, her bandaged leg faltering her steps and forcing the redhead to slow her pace.

"You know you were told to relax and call me if you needed anything," You sighed, looking your wife up and down in a disapproving manner.

"Y/N, I don't need your help," Natasha scoffed, ever the unwilling to receive assistance.

You let out yet another exhale, and you pulled her to the couch you were once sitting on.

"Yes you do, I'm taking care of this wound," You grabbed a first aid kit before kneeling in front of her to unwrap the old bandages.

You placed gauze on the wound, gentle against the assassin's skin so as to not aggravate the wound.

With gentle hands the assassin obviously wasn't used to, you finished cleaning up her leg, before gently placing Natasha's leg down.

You looked up when you heard her laugh.

"What?"

"You're just like a little housewife aren't you?" She smirked, looking down at you with a cocky expression.

Your eyes widened, and your heart felt as if it was both stopping and speeding up at the exact same time.

Your face broke out into a small blush, and you remained quiet, just darting your eyes away from the green eyes gleaming down at you with a mixture of mischief and teasing.

Fuck.

Later came one of Tony's infamous parties, you'd gotten all dressed up, wearing a small pink dress that highlighted your body, falling right above your knees.

Since the incident that revealed your feelings, you and Natasha didn't even talk, once again returning to strangers. You acted like the other didn't exist, despite feeling empty without the redhead around you. But you attempted to be away from Natasha as much as possible in an attempt to squish your feelings for the older woman.

You stood against the wall, chatting with an old friend who also happened to be a minor acquaintance of Tony's. Your eyes glanced over, and you found yourself staring at Natasha as she discussed...well...whatever she was discussing was some random thing you didn't seem to recall knowing. You assumed her to be another acquaintance of Tony's, most likely an employee or even a news reporter, though you decided on the former.

A small exhale escaped your lips before you turned back to your old friend.

"So, what's been up with you? It's been so long since I've seen you!" You smiled.

"Life's been so chaotic, Y/N, I tell you! But the chaos has honestly all been worth it. After all, I did gain a husband out of it!" They held up their hand, the medium sized diamond on their ring shining under the florescent light of the room.

You gasped.

"You got married??" You exclaimed excitedly.

They nodded.

"I tell you, I didn't see it coming, but married life has been amazing! The man I've loved for 7 years only seems that more special to me, and I didn't even know that was possible!"

In response, you took a sip of your drink, looking down at the hand that held the glass. You internally sighed at the lack of a ring on your finger, but you went back to a smile so as to not give away any sense of the heartbreak you were experiencing.

You were originally okay with the arrangement you shared with Natasha, because you never had feelings for the assassin and it wouldn't feel like you had everything you wanted but at the same time nothing you wanted.

But that changed.

You didn't understand where the feelings began, but now your life felt like an empty shell. On the outside, you were married to the one you loved. But on the inside, there was no love in your relationship.

It was all for convenience.

You two hadn't even come in the same car to this party, what made you think you were worthy of truly being married to the woman of your dreams.

Little did you know that Natasha had begun to match your feelings as well, but hid them as much as possible...

"So, Romanoff, what are you up to?" The man Natasha was talking to asked.

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked.

"Have you finally settled down and got yourself a partner?" He pushed her shoulder jokingly.

Natasha tilted her head, crossing her arms.

"No," She said genuinely, seemingly forgetting your entire existence.

"Really? Damn," He sighed with a laugh, adjusting his lean against the wall and smirking.

"What about you?" Natasha questioned out of obligation; she always hated these parties, especially when people she was barely acquainted with came up to her and asked about her personal life.

"I haven't gotten a partner yet...but, I met this cutie on a mission and I'm gonna ask them out," He replied, his smirk only increasing.

The redhead raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Really? Who?" She asked.

The man pointed his thumb to the side gesturing to you as you continued to talk with the old friend of yours.

"The one in the pink," He licked his lips.

The redhead looked around, before eventually finding who he was pointing at. When she saw it was you he was pointing at, a rush of anger coursed through every one of Natasha's veins, and she felt one of them sticking out of her forehead.

"They're married." Natasha spat, biting the inside of her cheek.

The man furrowed his eyebrows.

"Really? They don't have a wedding ring, and they never mentioned it," He looked over at you.

Natasha grit her teeth, clenching her fists.

"Yeah. They're married," She glared.

"Woah, okay!" The man laughed nervously. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

Natasha adjusted her lean, and she looked off to the side.

"I don't have anything in a twist, just giving you the truth," She tossed her braid over her shoulder.

The man gave her an awkward look, but eventually rolled his eyes.

"Alright Romanoff, whatever you say," He replied.

Hours passed and Natasha stood in the back silently, recollecting her feelings towards you and your marriage in general.

When that man mentioned you, she had felt guilt washing through her veins. She actually forgot about your marriage. Why did that make her upset though? She wasn't supposed to actually fall in love with you... She hadn't had a crush in years before she realized her feelings for you. She felt her heart beating faster than normal when she saw you, and she recently felt the need to actually be yours for the rest of your life.

Why did this have to be so confusing?

The end of the party finally came, and Natasha looked up to see you leaving.

It was now or never.

Natasha pushed herself off the wall, and she quickly followed you before grabbing your hand.

You snapped your head to find the redheaded assassin looking at you with an angry and jealous expression.

"Nat-?" You stuttered, feeling your legs go weak at your wife's dominant nature.

"Do you want to come home with me?" She practically growled. "Just answer yes or no."

You blushed, your eyes darting around the room and eventually locking with Natasha's green irises.

You didn't understand where any of this had come from, one moment you were walking home alone and now you were being held by the wrist by the woman of your dreams.

"Yes-" You blurted without thinking, your libido and heart acting before your brain could even process the situation.

Natasha gripped your hand, storming out towards her car faster than she thought her legs would carry her just to be with a person. She'd only moved this quickly to either carry out a mission or to train, never for a person she wanted to be with. No, the feared Black Widow never chased after anyone. But tonight that had changed.

She practically threw you into the passenger's seat of her car, buckling your seatbelt for you before making a beeline for her own spot in the car.

You sat there in shock as Natasha started the engine before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Natasha...what is this?" You asked, pressing your thighs together as a sense of arousal coursed through your body.

"Малышка...I'm in love with you. I can't stand this marriage not being anything more than tax benefits. I want you. I need you." Her hand found its way to your thigh, her palm and digits can eerily close to where you needed her most.

"Natasha..." You repeated her name like a prayer. "I need you too...I can't handle this. Since I took care of you that day, I needed you. Either to kiss my lips or fuck me senseless, I've needed you for too long,"

Natasha's grip on your thigh tightened, and a small moan escaped your lips as her digits snaked closer and closer to your achy and needy pussy.

"Keep talking like that, Ангел, and I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to utter anything but my name and your beautiful moans," The redhead kept one hand on the steering wheel, practically glaring at the road ahead.

"Maybe I want that..." Your hand overlaps the one on your thigh, and you move Natasha's hand to cup your heated sex, allowing a moan to escape both your lips and Natasha's.

"What are you comfortable with? I want you to enjoy this as much as I do," She said, her voice husky from her heightened libido.

"I want you to do whatever you want, I love anything minus ass stuff, choke me, spank me, do whatever, I just need you,"

The assassin rolled her head back.

"God damn it Ангел..." She groaned, and even in the darkness, you noticed a small bulge sticking out of her pants, *she was hard*.

You knew she had a cock, you'd heard her mention it during her discussion with you about her life in the red room. But God you didn't know it was that big.

"Nat...you're hard-" You blurted, as if you hadn't just said the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know, принцесса," Natasha maneuvered your hand to place it on her cock, her Russian accent bleeding through her words the more and more worked up she got. "Look what you do to me, моя маленькая шлюшка,"

Her husky and slightly strained voice only made your pussy all the more soaked, and you shuddered at the feeling of her rock hard cock under your palm and her clothes.

"I-I..." You faltered, unable to say anything at all as you kept your hand virtual glued to her cock.

"We're almost home, no one else will be there, so I wanna hear your moans get as loud as possible. I want to hear every noise your beautiful voice makes," Natasha groaned, rutting her hard cock against the palm of your hand.

"Yes Nat..." You whimpered, squirming in your seat while your achy pussy sat in its own arousal.

"Good girl," She breathed, finally pulling into the tower's parking lot before unbuckling you and scooping your body up into her arms as if you weighed no more than a feather to her.

She carried you to her room in the compound, throwing you onto her king sized bed that laid somewhat prominent in her bedroom.

"Natasha," You repeated her name for the umpteenth time that night, your brain seemingly already fried enough so that you couldn't say anything but her name despite her having barely even touched you. "Please...take me,"

The assassin unzipped her pants, allowing for her cock to finally be released from the constraints that left both of you frustrated.

You groaned at the sight of her dick as she pulled down her pants along with her underwear, leaving her with an obviously erect eight and a half inch cock in her hand.

She looked over at you, eventually leaning down and sliding off your dress with skilled fingers. The pink fabric was tossed on the floor alongside her bottom garments, leaving you in just your underwear.

"God you know...I've wanted this for so long, to feel like we were actually married. To feel like you're actually mine..." She smashed her lips into yours, her hand finding its way around your neck and squeezing just enough at the sides to make your pussy clench around nothing.

You moaned at the rough treatment your neck was enduring, and your legs remained shaky as Natasha positioned herself between them.

She left hickeys across the sensitive flesh on your neck, moans escaping you every time she released your skin from the grip of her lips.

"You know, I've had my hand stroking my cock for months, wondering how tight this little pussy would be just for me-" Natasha bit down on your neck, slapping your wet and achy pussy to emphasize your statement.

"Oh God-!" You cried out at the spanking on your sore cunt.

Natasha virtually ripped off your lacy white underwear, and followed along with your bra, releasing your tits from the cage that had been restricting her from the sight of your soft breasts for the whole night.

"Do you want this?" She asked, lifting her mouth up from your soft and supple skin that had been littered with blemishes to look straight in your eyes.

"Yes- I want this..." You shuddered under her touch, a small cry stuck in your throat that developed under the constant teasing.

"Y/N, are you sure?" The green-eyed woman looked at you, a sudden but very brief sense of kindness and care flooding over her otherwise angry and horny gaze.

"Yes- Please! Just don't tease any more-! Please Daddy!" You cried, the sinful noise finally escaping your throat as your head rolled back.

You paused right after the moan left your mouth, your eyes widening and your hand immediately slapping over your mouth.

"Oh God- Natasha I'm so-"

Natasha gripped at your throat.

"Don't. Apologize." She growled, pumping her cock with her hand to get it nice and ready for your little cunt. "But if you keep calling me that I will fuck that cunt until you're crying, or do you not want that?"

You looked up at her as she loomed over your body.

"No- I want that..." You panted, your chest slowly rising and falling as the air around you became hotter.

"Give me your safe word," Natasha demanded.

"Red," You replied, your arousal somehow increasing at the kindness your wife showed even in her most turned on state.

"Good girl," She purred, her lips pressing into yours once again, both literally and figuratively taking your breath away.

Natasha grabbed a condom off of her nightstand, ripping the foil and sliding the rubber around her thick and hardened cock.

"Daddy...God you're so big..." Your eyes fell to her cock.

"I know, принцecca," The assassin smirked, leaning down to blow softly on your pussy, the sudden cold chill sending shivers down your spine.

Your skin raised under the cold breath she let out between your thighs, and you gripped at her braid.

"Please- Daddy- Don't tease," You begged, your voice wavering under her denial.

She smirked, licking a single stripe up your wet slit. Natasha clicked her tongue a few times, and she cooed at you.

"Ohhh...I know Малышка, you just *need* Daddy's cock in you, don't you?" She smirked, looking up at you.

You nodded violently.

"Please Daddy! Please just fill me up! I'll be good, please just fill me up!" You cried, the feeling of her tongue on you making your body ache for more.

"Such a good girl, I love hearing you beg," Natasha kissed your lips softly before sliding her dick between your folds, rubbing your clit with her thumb.

You moaned at the feeling of her rubbing your clit, but your moan only became louder as she pushed herself inside of you, the tip of her dick rubbing right up against your G-spot.

"Fuck-! Daddy-!!" You moaned, gripping at the sheets below as her cock slipped in and out of your cunt.

You gripped at her hair, your fingers finding their way through her tightly braided locks.

Natasha grunted as she rutted in and out of your tight pussy.

“Damn it Малышка, I never thought you'd be this wet for me…you're beautiful…your hair spread out like this, your pretty pussy clenching around my cock…” She panted, slamming her hips into yours, the sounds of sex filling the environment around you.

Sweat drilled down your face, and your hands quickly made their way to the redhead’s shirt, unbuttoning it and pulling her bra off with the other fabric.

You leaned in, pulling her close as you kissed down her neck, the only thing interrupting your movements being the cries and moans that left your lips.

“Please, please. Oh God!” You groaned against her.

“I know slut, it feels good doesn't it? Doesn't it feel so good? Fucking christ-” Natasha moaned, her orgasm creeping up on her body as her movements got more and more erratic the closer she got to finishing.

“Daddy…I'm gonna come! Please! I'm gonna come! Please let me cum! I've been such a good girl for you! Please!!” You kissed her passionately, your fingers digging into her skin for any sense of support.

Natasha groaned.

“Me too, come with me принцecca,” Natasha gripped your throat, leaving somewhat visible handprints on your flesh. “Боже мой!! Черт возьми, принцесса! Ты мне нужен! Дерьмо! Ебать!!” She slammed her hips into you, her cum coating the inside of the condom as she finished.

“Fuck! Fuck! Daddy!!” You moaned simultaneously, your orgasm washing over you as you fell back into the bed.

Natasha groaned, barely holding herself up by her arms, just as exhausted as you.

The assassin slowly pulled out of you, kissing your forehead as you whimpered from the empty feeling in your pussy.

“C'mere beautiful,” She laid down next to you, sliding off her cum filled condom and throwing it in the trash before pulling you into her arms.

“…I love you, Natasha…” You muttered against her neck, burying yourself in her scent as your naked bodies intertwined.

Natasha smiled gently, running her hands through your messy hair, her fingers tangling in your locks.

“I love you too, Y/N,” She murmured into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo and using it as a lifeline and a reminder that this truly was real.

“Can we try this marriage for real this time?” You looked up at her, your hand falling to hers and tangling your fingers together.

“Of course we can…I've been waiting to ask you that for so long now…” She laughed softly, kissing you softly on the lips.

You kissed her back, sharing the first of many kisses of your marriage, but this time the marriage was finally real and not just for convenience.

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

[cakelitter]

Intertwined

Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: mdni, oral (f recieve), p in v, dirty talking, established relationship, slight spanking, slight size kink

summary: playfighting!!!

words: 2.3k

a/n: Mostly intended for re4 Leon, but any Leon after that era works tbh. Downstairs neighbors probably hate the two of you LMAO. But yeah, hope you enjoy!!!!

Play fighting is fun, especially when you have a boyfriend that is double your size.

It’s actually quite beneficial, coming up with ways to escape his death grip each time the two of you declare war against each other; could be vital in critical situations.  Sometimes however, you find yourself trapped, your mind thinking of a strategy to flee from the large hands that managed to get a hold of your wrists.

“Leon, that’s not fair your grip is too tight!” You squirm, pulling your arms away but to no avail as he drags them back. “What happened to ‘Don’t go easy on me, I’m stronger than you think’?”

Should’ve kept your mouth shut is what should’ve happened, you wouldn’t be fighting for your life if you did that. Actually no, you would’ve been doing that either way, no idea why you keep willingly putting yourself in these situations when you have no track record of winning. You struggle, flinging your arms away quickly, rotating your wrists, hell you even tried biting, and he won’t budge. “Does someone need a little help?”

Great, he’s mocking you now. Should’ve went for skinnier guys, not ones that went to police academy for three years, and a government training program for five.

You could try to kick him, but you’d lose your footing on the bed. That would just make it easier for him, this man would not waste a minute to knock you off your feet if he ever had the opportunity of doing so. While you’re over here thinking, the cogs in our brain working in full efficiency, he’s grinning. God, that stupid grin, he looks so cute, yet punching it off his adorable face sounds satisfying.

Since when was he a fucking sadist anyway?

In the midst of your attempts to pull away, the iron grip he has on your arm causes your torso to lunge forward.

Rookie mistake.

His body leans in, placing his head between your arm and waist, throwing you over his shoulder before slamming you back down onto the mattress of the bed below you. Clicking his tongue, he climbs on top, shaking his head in mockery. “Every time, you fall for it every time.”

Rubbing it in your face, typical. Ok maybe he’s correct, you have fallen for this once…or twice… or thrice before but you’re still new to this!

Chuckling, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek, his hand caressing your waist, finger slipping beneath the oversized shirt you’re wearing. His lips feel soft against the sensitive skin, causing heat to pool between your thighs.

But you can’t lose, not so early at least.

You try to get up, plopping your hand down on the mattress below, attempting to pull him off of you. Your swift movements however, were met by his familiar hand grabbing your shoulder and pushing it back down.

Your competitive side starts to peek through, trying your absolute best to put up a fight. Albeit, trying to escape his grip is a lesson you’ve just learned the outcome of. And so, one more option is left if you want to win.

Fake an injury.

A yelp escapes your lips, turning your head over to the side, knots forming between your brows as you feign pain. His expression immediately softens, pulling away from you to see what’s the matter, his yank couldn’t have been that rough, could it?

It wasn’t, not even in the slightest, you just got to pull on those sweet, sweet heart strings of his, find that weak spot, that slight glimmer of hope and run with it. Just as you expected, he softens, the hand placed on you shoulder slackens, giving you the golden opportunity that you’ve been hoping for.

With a smug expression, you push him off of you, getting up and dashing out of the room. You don’t look back, but you can just imagine the dumbfounded expression plastered all over his face, betrayed and aghast.

It’s not till you’re in the living room till you hear his footsteps approaching; you stand there, legs ready to sprint at any given moment. His figure walks down the hall and into the room you’re in, he stands a few feet away from you, his lips curled up into a smile.

You wait anxiously, eyes scanning his body, trying to decipher his next move.

“Better start running.”

Without even thinking twice, you sprint; running around the couch as he follows you. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your socked feet hit the hard wood floor over and over again as his follow pursuit.

You’re not even thinking straight anymore, your fight or flight mode activated, trying your best to run around him. And for the first ten seconds you were doing great, jumping over the couch, throwing a few pillows at him, even dodged his attacks.

But it all goes south when you get cornered, the only way out is through him. You’re fucked, and he knows that; slowly walking over towards you, the glimmer of hope that you once had dissipating with each step forward he takes.

“I’m sorry, Leon. Please, please, I’m sorry.” You apologize between squeals and giggles. This is actually so scary; your heart is about to fall out of your ass at this rate. “That was a very dirty move back there, you know?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I wanted to win, please.” The same grin forms on his lips, the joyful expression on his face juxtaposing yours which is full of anxiousness. “That wasn’t so nice of you, it’s called cheating.”

Realizing there is no point in sweet talking your way out of this one, your legs move on their own, sprinting and praying that you make it through. But of course, you don’t.

His arm grabs your waist, pulling you back before carrying you over his shoulder once again. He laughs as you squirm, walking back over to your shared bedroom.

Plopping you back down on the bed, his fingers begin to tickle your sides as you flop around like a fish out of water. Your laughter echoes through the room, the cramping feeling in your stomach being hard to ignore as you attempt to fight off his persistent fingers.

“Stop! Leon, stop!” you say in-between laughter, the whole experience feeling like torture more than anything. “What do you say?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!” He stops, his hands resting on the side of your hips as you wipe off the tears on the corner of your eyes. He smiles, leaning in again and leaving a soft kiss on your lips before murmuring against them. “Told you I always win.”

You roll your eyes, hands tangled in his hair. “Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

Smiling, you pull him closer till his lips connect with yours. It’s slow and sweet, affection filled eyes and intertwined fingers, getting lost in each other’s taste. His chest is flush against yours, rapid heartbeats syncing, riding the same high of emotions.

Pulling away, he placed a final kiss on your chin before putting his head beneath your shirt; well, it’s his shirt but that’s besides the point. He plants a tender kiss on the middle of your chest, littering a few more around before moving down you your lower stomach leaving kisses anywhere he could.

You wince as his cold fingertips graze your skin, a chuckle escaping his lips in return. Running his palm up your sides, pulling the shirt off your body. You help, raising your arms up as he discards it behind him.

His eyes fall on your chest, hands immediately fondling and groping the tender flesh. “Look at those, so fucking pretty.”

Blushing, you watch him lean in, his mouth clasping around your stiff peak. Your eyes close in pleasure as he lets out a grunt, tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing amplifying the pleasure. Blue eyes lock with yours, a subtle smile forming on his lips as he hears the sounds you’re making for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can’t wait to hear all those cute sounds you’d make when I fuck you stupid.” He speaks, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples, sending pulses of pleasure to your needy cunt. “Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Have all the neighbors hear how good you feel? How well you take it?” You nod, placing your hand on his muscly forearm. “Want it.”

He kisses you one more time before slapping your ass. “Turn around, baby.”

You comply, turning around till your chest is flush against the mattress with your ass in the air. Biting his lip, his rough hands move up the back of your thighs before caressing the fat of your ass, kneading the soft skin.

His fingers grab the rim of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties, leaving your wet cunt on full display for him. His thumb presses against your weeping pussy, running it through the wet folds and then moving down to draw firm circles on your clit. “Fuck, she’s crying for me, sweetheart. Got such a slutty girlfriend.”

You moan and nuzzle against the bedsheets below, his words passing through your ears and swimming in your mind. Grabbing your ass with both hands this time, he spreads it, groaning at the sight. Open mouthed kisses are placed on your thighs, followed by a few licks and shallow bites. You squirm as you feel him blow on your cunt, the cool air hitting the hot area.

Deciding he’s had enough, he connects his mouth to your pussy, tongue slipping into the hole, making out with it. You grip the sheets beneath, a whimper escaping your lips as he grunts at the taste of your fluids, a large hand smacking your ass before rubbing the hot skin.

Moving back, he spits on your cunt watching the tear shaped saliva drip down and mix with your taste before lapping it back up. You chant his name in between moans, your head feeling fuzzy as he eats you out breathlessly.

“Gonna cum.” You whine, looking back over at him as he nuzzles into your heat, before pulling away. “Cum, sweetheart. Cream my face so I can fuck this cute little pussy.”

Your hand moves down to cup your breast as his thumb rubs your pudgy clit while continuing to fuck his tongue into you. Your mind goes blank as you orgasm, legs shuddering and threatening to collapse as he holds you in place.

“Good fucking girl.” He mutters before licking up your release, moaning as his hand gropes your thighs. It isn’t long however before you hear him get up, your worn-out eyes looking back at him as he pulls down his sweatpants along with his boxers, leaving them behind on the hard-wood floor.

The mattress shifts beneath you as he climbs on the bed, his hand rubbing his painfully hard dick. You bite your lip at the sight of it, thick with some veins running along its side. You gulp, your salivary glands becoming hyperactive at the idea of taking him into your mouth.

His rough hand grips your ass again, the other one leading his cock to your entrance. He spits down onto the pink head; not like that’s necessary. The tip bumps against your clit teasingly, running through your wet folds, collecting all the fluids it can.

You feel your walls stretch as he begins to push his hips forward, the sensation earning a moan out of the two of you. You squeeze around him, your face planted in the sheets bellow as you try to adjust.

A familiar touch travels down your back, and back up to your hips. He pulls out momentarily before fucking back into you; feeling the head of his fat cock kiss the opening of your cervix with each thrust. Your sounds get muffled against the mattress, too overwhelmed by the intense feeling of pleasure.

The creaking noises of the bed slows down as he wraps his arm around your waist pulling your back flush against him, his fingers snaking up and grabbing your jaw. “Didn’t we agree on letting everyone know how good you’re getting fucked? Hm? Getting shy all of a sudden?”

You shake your head as his hips continue to snap against yours. “Good, let me hear you, sweetheart.”

His pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping and dirty moans filling the whole room. His head hides in the crook of your neck as he focuses on his thrusts, your hand grabbing his arm for support. “Rub that clit for me, baby; squeeze that fucking cunt around my cock.”

He holds your hand and brings it up to his mouth, coating your index and middle finger with his saliva and guiding them to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You do as you’re told, rubbing your slippery clit as your boyfriend slams into you again, and again.

You begin to sense the hazy feeling of release approaching, Leon’s hot breath hitting your neck as he pants. His hand grips your hip vehemently, a grip strong enough to leave a mark for the next day or two. “Squeezing me so tight, pussy made f’me.”

You’re completely cock drunk, nodding mindlessly at whatever he says; the desire between your thighs being the only prominent thought on your mind.

“Leon, I’m gonna cum again.”

“I know, sweetheart. Let go for me, let me see my baby all blissed out.” You mewl, nails digging into his forearm as your body trembles. Leon’s breath hitches as you squeeze around him, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his own high.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”  He mutters between gritted teeth, his eyes shutting close. The arm wrapped around your waist relaxes causing you to lay back down on the mattress. He fucks into you a few more times before immediately pulling out, white ropes of cum shooting out and landing on your ass and puffy cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

The room falls quiet as the two of you catch your breaths. Taking his shirt off, he wipes away his release, kissing the lower of your back affectionately and discarding the dirty piece of fabric on the floor.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close against his chest, petting your hair.

“Doing well?”

“Mhm.”

“…We should play fight more often.”

divider by: @/cafekitsune

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Thinking about getting assimilated into the retired 141 polycule.

You find Gaz and Soap first. Entirely by chance, they’re sat at the bar when you go up to order a drink.

It’s a busy night. You have to wait a moment for your order to be taken, so you strike up conversation with the two cuties you’ve come across. They seem sweet, charming and don’t mind that you interrupted their conversation.

Eventually, the bartender brings over your refill, and as you go to leave, you say, ‘one more for them, on my tab.’

Soap tilts his head, ‘shouldn’t we be the ones buying you a drink?’

You shake your head, ‘not here, you’re not,’ before wandering back to the table your friends are at.

The next week, they’re there again, and preempt you, by buying a round for your whole table, just to be polite, y’know? And, y’know, you kinda need to come up to the bar with them, to make sure all of the orders get put in right.

A flimsy excuse, but it gets you away so they can chat with you some more. You wait at the bar again, this time with one of them on either side of you, chatting about how your week was, (only yours, since, ‘we don’t get up to much, doll. Least, nothing we can say in polite company’) until the drinks come out and you take them back the the table. They trail behind you, then manage to find seats where they can stay at your side.

Gaz and Soap stay there all night, through each round, each bar hop, queuing for the bathroom with you, always right there on either side, right up until it’s time to go home.

As your friends split off into taxis, Gaz offers for you to go back to their place. Soap reassures you that there’s no pressure, only if you want to, and you kiss him before he can finish saying the words. Gaz pulls you apart to get a kiss of his own, pulling you close as Soap protests about being interrupted.

The walk back to their place and everything after is a blur. You wake up in the morning, sandwiched between two bodies, who are whispering back and forth over your head.

You peel the sheet from your face and glance up, to see Soap on the phone.

‘What’s up?’ Your voice is hoarse, your throat parched.

‘Nothing, doll. Just making sure our breakfast actually gets made.’ Soap pinches your nose, sending you squirming away into Gaz’s arms.

‘You’ll stay for it, right?’ Gaz murmurs to you, dragging you away to sit up, pressing a glass of water into your hands.

You sip it, as Gaz steadies your shaking form. ‘Course.’

‘Good. You want chips or bacon? Keep your tits on Simon, I’m asking them now.’ Johnny hushes his voice when he speaks into the phone, keeping the harshness directed to Simon, on the other end of the line.

‘Chips.’ You say, letting Gaz push one of his shirts over your head as someone knocks on the door.

‘Yeah, John?’ Gaz glances over his shoulder.

‘Does our guest want tea?’ a husky voice, John’s, comes from the other side of the door.

‘Tea, or coffee?’ Gaz asks you.

‘It’s tea, or no tea,’ comes John’s voice again.

‘Fine, cap. Tea for everyone.’ Gaz rolls his eyes, setting the water aside before pulling you off the bed, leaving soap to flop down on the covers where you just were.

‘If you want coffee, I can make you some.’ Soap pouted as he missed his chance to grab you, instead scrambling up to make himself decent as Gaz set you down.

‘Who was that?’ You nod towards the door.

‘That’s John. We all used to be in the military together, so we call him cap. You’ll like him.’

‘You sure?’ You say, as soap passes you a pair of shorts (on closer inspection, a pair of his boxers) for you to put on.

‘Course. Me and Gaz have good taste.’ Soap taps your shoulder, pulling you towards the door, unsure if the good taste was about the as of yet unseen John and Simon, or you. ‘Come on, Si will be back with food any minute now.’

[part two]

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"anything" - emily prentiss x liaison!fem!reader

summary: you take an unnecessary risk out in the field

wc: 1.4k

cw: flangst? typical cm violence, but mostly just mentions, pre-establish relationship!

this is my first emily fic plz lmk if u like it!

A steady beeping slowly drags you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the hospital room around you. The first thing you notice is the source of the beeping, from the patient monitor beside your bed. Then the pain hits you like a muffled train wreck, crashing into you but hitting a wall, so it doesn’t hurt quite so bad. They must have you on some strong medication, because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. The worst feeling of all, though, comes from your abdomen, and when you shift in the bed, it aches and this weak little whimper uncontrollably escapes you. 

“Don’t move,” the velvet voice beside you warns. You didn’t even realize Emily was in here, that’s how knocked out you feel. When you turn your head, you see she’s got the chair pulled up as close to your bed as it can go, her elbows connected to her knees in a C-shaped hunch. “You’ll pop your stitches, and it still wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done today.”

You hear the sternness in your girlfriend’s voice and feel the color drain from your face. She always said you could never control your face, at least not around the people you love. In family interviews, or talking to the press? You could be stone-cold, unreadable. But once you’re comfortable around someone, your visage has a mind of its own. 

“I’m-”

“I know, you’re sorry,” Emily scoffs. Her voice reminds you of bitter, dark chocolate right now. She’s clearly irritated, but remains by your side loyally. That’s how you know she loves you. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a thoughtless, reckless decision.” 

“I was actually going to say that I’m not sorry,” you huff, groaning softly as you move your rear back to sit up a little. Emily leans back in her seat and her jaw hardens. “Maybe I did act on impulse, but you would have done the same thing.” 

“You disobeyed Hotch’s direct order to stay put,” Emily’s chocolate eyes darken, and she rises from her seat, towering over you with her arms crossed over her chest. “And it got you shot.”

“I thought you were in trouble,” you grumble, your voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Hotch and Morgan all went in different directions, and I heard a scream and a gunshot from where you had gone,” you rattle off, your words all stringing together from the drowsiness. 

You recalled the vast farmland property where Garcia had nailed down the Unsub, how Hotchner didn’t want to wait on SWAT to show up because the guy’s endgame was so close to playing out. He killed at exactly noon with every single one of his victims, so the team had three minutes to find this missing girl. 

“And I couldn’t just stay put, Emily, not when I thought you’d been hurt,” you wring your hands over the top of the scratchy hospital blanket, your knuckles going stark white. “I couldn’t just wait to see what had happened. I couldn’t be helpless like that, not when I thought you might be hurt.” 

Emily’s got her eyes closed and she’s breathing in and out sharply, like she’s forcing herself to calm down, to filter through her initial thoughts so as to not say anything irreversible. “But Hotch told you to stay put,” she repeats in a defeated murmur, lifting one arm to run her hand through her hair. Her fringe is all over the place, and you’re just now noticing the dirt on her milky white cheek. She’s not rested since the farm, you realize, not even taken a second to wipe the dirt off her face. 

Guilt pours over you like a rainstorm, and you feel angry, frustrated, self-reproaching tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to scare you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry that you had to worry about me like that. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing that you were okay.” 

“Don’t Em me,” her voice cracks and you see tears start to fall from her eyes. She must be so tired. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but you can tell from her posture, from her expression, that she’s not had a moment of respite since she saw the bullet take you down. 

You recall the look on her face - horrified, when she hovered over you, lying in the dirt. She shot the Unsub directly after he shot you. Hotch and Morgan made it in time to help the victim out of her ties, so she ran over to you the second the Unsub was down. 

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked, lifting your shirt only to find blood oozing from the hole in your stomach. 

“I thought…” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes immediately feeling heavy. 

“Someone get a medic over here now!” she shouted, holstering her gun and pressing her hands onto your stomach. You woke up in the ambulance a little bit after that, but were too hazy to say anything. 

All you remember is Emily crushing your hand between both of yours and muttering something under her breath repeatedly. "Stay with me, baby." You hear it now. "Please don't go."

You reach gingerly for her hand as she stands over you now, unable to stretch your arm out too far for fear of popping a stitch. She helps you out and shuffles forward a step, sitting back down in her chair and pulling it next to the bed. Your fingers grasp hers, and then your palms are flush together. “I’m still really pissed at you,” Emily says. “So is Hotch. Says he has half a mind to take you off active duty altogether.” 

You purse your lips. Surely that’s not totally true. “Well, then he’d have to deal with the press on his own, and he’d want to rip his hair out,” you say. Emily squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. 

“I think he’d do it if it mitigates the risk of you getting shot,” Emily admits seriously. 

“It’s just a graze,” you grumble. Emily’s glowering at you again, and you concede. “A graze that required emergency surgery, but still a graze.” 

“Baby, I don’t think you know what a graze is,” Emily says. “They had to remove a bullet from your stomach. That’s not a graze.” 

You feel your cheeks tingle as they turn pink and you shrug your shoulders, pretending to be none the wiser. “Tomato, tomahto,” you wave your free hand nonchalantly. 

“You feel okay right now? D’you need any more pain meds?” Emily asks, the caretaker in her taking over, despite her frustration towards you getting into this situation in the first place. 

“I’m alright,” you say quietly. Emily’s eyes, beautiful orbs of brown so dark they’re almost black, float down to where your wound is. “Em, hey,” you insist, and those eyes snap back up to yours. “I’m alright. Promise.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Emily chastises with a sigh. 

“How long are they keeping me here?” you ask in a feeble attempt to change the subject. 

“Probably just a couple of days,” she says, lifting your knuckles to her lips and kissing them gently, like you’re made of fine china, like you could shatter at any moment. “Everyone wants to see you. I told them you probably wouldn’t be up for visitors until tomorrow,” she says. 

“That’s fine,” you agree, leaning your head back against the pillow. Whatever medications flowing through the IV in your wrist has you feeling very low-energy. “And how long are you gonna be mad at me?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little in an attempt to earn some sympathy points. 

Emily shakes her head a little, but you see the faint uptick of her mouth that gives her away. “At the very least, however long it takes you to recover,” she jokes halfheartedly. 

“Does my punishment come with a ban on kisses?” you ask, tugging her hand with your own. 

Emily leans forward in her seat, her lips mere centimeters from your own. “That would be a punishment for me, too, and I didn’t do anything wrong,” she teases, then pecks your lips briefly. 

Your eyes are feeling heavy, and you heave a small sigh. “Love you, Em,” you say softly as the room goes dark. “Do anything for you, Em.” 

“I know you would, baby,” Emily sighs as well, but you feel her thumb swiping over the back of your hand. “That’s the problem.”

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC how you first meet them pt.2

Slashers x f!reader

Includes Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Stu Macher

Warnings: mentions of murder/violence, some stalking/harassment (not by slashers), ill intentions, pre-relationships, reader is a bit self deprecating, shitty friends

Bubba Sawyer

Of course you’d been dragged on a girls trip, and of course the minute the engine blew in you were shoved from the back seat onto the side of the dusty, gravel road, laughed at and told, “go find a mechanic”

God forbid your so called friends, which now you were rethinking the decision to even be here and with them, chose somewhere to travel where there was actual cell service

So here you now were, standing on an old porch that you weren’t even sure was properly attached to the house barely kept upright and covered in chipped paint

“Hello?”

A few more knocks on the creaky front door echoed out before your patience ran out, turning the handle and finding it to be unlocked

“Uh, hello? If I’m breaking and entering just let me know but this place seems abandoned”

You cupped your mouth and spoke, just to cover all your bases in case you were actually entering someone’s home, although the cobwebbed walls and moth bitten carpet spoke otherwise

“This isn’t creepy at all…”

Wandering aimlessly through the houses threshold, you searched for something that you help back on the road where all your friends were waiting

Or maybe you were just hoping this would buy you time before you had to walk 4 miles back to tell them you came up with nothing, no mechanic, no help

Your eyes glanced across the room, taking in all the items scattered about, some miscellaneous and some meticulously placed

Then your curious gaze landed on an ash tray sitting beside a moldy plate of what looked like some kind of meat

Although the fluffy possibly-poultry wasn’t what alarmed you, the smoke filtering from the end of a half smoked cigarette resting on it did

“Boys, we’ve got a fresh one”

A deep voice hollered, a rough palmed and smelly hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the hale scream that had popped from your lungs due to shock

Before you could even think to fight against the obviously strong body pinned to yours, you were being dragged towards an open basement door and thrown down the narrow, wooden staircase like a rag doll

“Take care of er’ will ya?”

The voice of your captor yelled down from the top step, slamming the door behind himself and surely locking it in the process

Disoriented and nurses a now slight headache, you mustered the energy to prop yourself up, hazy eyes bouncing about the room before they landed on what could only be described as a large, terrifying figure standing a few yards away

He wore a stained and tattered apron, brown stains you were hoping were dirt and not dried old blood

One hand gripped a cleaver, whatever he was chopping up before you entered the basement sat mutilated on a work bench, the stench of iron heavy in the air

Despite all that, the man seemed frozen, staring back at you through the eye holes in a poorly sew together mask

“I didn’t even wanna be here,”

You started before you I could stop yourself

“My so called friends dragged me out of my room a few days ago for a last minute road trip, and of course when one of them decided to bring their fuck ass car without checking it out first, it literally gave up on itself and then I get sent out to look for help but guess what! We’re in the middle of nowhere so I found this house and well it’s your house so that’s just my luck”

The man only blinked, body language clearly taken aback that you weren’t screaming bloody murder

“Just, if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least knock me out first so it doesn’t hurt?”

A loud knock at the door startled the two of you, followed by the man from earlier noisily coming down the stairs

“Why haven’t you taken care of er’ yet bubba?”

The man didn’t yell but he definitely sounded upset by this turn of events

The other man, who you now knew was called Bubba, shuffled awkwardly in his spot, rubbing the back of his head before robotically motioning to you, still sat on the floor

“You like er’ huh?

You watched the exchange quietly, although unable to contain the confusion set on you’d features

“Fine, but she’s yours to deal with, you remember what happened last time we took in a stray”

At that you pointedly turned around, staring up at the man that regarded you in terms like you were a dog

“Well I’m not a stray, technically you kidnapped me-“

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this seemingly abandoned town, one minute you were checking the map for your exit and then you missed it

Now you were here, coming to a stop as you realized you needed gas and weren’t anywhere near the hotel you had booked for the night

You definitely weren’t getting the rooms deposit back

Pulling into an empty parking lot, you pulled your phone from the passenger seat only to come up dry when the cell service was next to nothing

Then, before you could warn your heart not to jump out of your chest, a knock on your side window pulled a startled yelp from your throat

A man, not too old but not young either, stood on the other side of the car door, neutral expression morphing into a cheesy smile when your gaze met his and exchanged a few seconds of awkward, panicked staring

Brows raising in realization that the stranger, while sketchy and probably holstering a gun, could maybe help you figure out where you were and where to go

Opening the creaking door to your vehicle you pocketed your pepper spray just in case before hoping out of your seat and into the chilly night air

“You lost?”

“No, I intentionally ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere”

The man chuckled, albeit seeming taken aback by the brash sarcasm about your current situation

“Well good thing you ran into me, little lady”

The man who still carried about like this predicament was the most normal in the world smiled wider when your face pinched up in confusion, placing an open palm out to you

“I’m Bo, and you are, darlin?”

“Someone who knows not to shake hands with a complete stranger”

“Feisty”

“Oh, I’m getting there”

Despite the night breeze tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but enjoy the slight banter you were getting into

Although probably dangerous and wildly crazy to be out so late just walking around, this Bo character as charming, and something about his stare was growing increasingly comforting

“You know people don’t usually show up here, especially at night, all alone”

“But do they at least have gas in their tank? Because that’s already one up on me”

Bo threw his head back, whipping his hat off to push back the hair that fell towards his forehead in the fit of deep chuckles

“I’m normally not too inclined towards outsiders, but if you’d like a room for the night, I’d be happy to oblige little lady”

Art the clown

You strode through an alleyway, hands in your jacket pockets as you made your way back home

It was just your luck that the last night plans your friends picked for Halloween happened to be a party at the house of a guy you don’t even know

Especially your luck when only 20 minutes in you were all already abandoned, you’d ride gone and with it your phone charger

Thus, you nursed a bruised ego in a pirate costume, clutching your phone with one hand even though the battery was lost past dead

“Hey you!”

A distinctly male baritone called out from behind, you sped up not bothering to turn and face whatever stranger wanted a late night chat in the middle of an empty, dark alley

“Well that’s not very nice!”

The man responded to himself, deep chuckle furrowing worry lines between your brows

Just your luck, just your damn luck

Turning the corner to what could be described as more favorable to due the abundance of street lights and open space, the lack of people still has your nerves on overdrive

That was until you nearly ran smack into a body around the corner

Although expecting a gasp in surprise or shout in anger, all you received was a shocked expression, one such as a mime would use

Whoever this man was, was clearly wearing a very intricate costume, clown makeup done to the 9’s and a fully tailored suit to match, with a hefty, tan bag slung over one shoulder

All of your courage of wanting to leave this awful situation, and fear of what would happen if you didn’t took hold, before you knew it you were panicked and leaning forward, watching with just as much curiosity as the clown eyed you

“Listen you don’t know me, but there’s this guy following me and if you could just pretend to be, I don’t know, a friend, I would appreciate it”

The clown seemed to understand immediately, bright grin tossed on his features as the stranger that had previously had your full attention came to a stuttering halt

“Lady, I was talking to you back there”

“Oh! Sorry I just was meeting with someone and well, here they are!”

You laughed nervously, awkwardly leaning into the clown and patting at his shoulder, gazing at the stranger, you saw a look of terror cross his face right as he stumbled back a bit

“Yeah, got it”

And then he was high tailing it back the way he came

Glancing back at the costumed man you stood alone with, you caught how his face held a look of something utterly terrifying before he caught your eye, cheesy grin returning

“Thanks..”

You questioned for his name, grinning softly at the way realization of your ask spread across his face

Hand motions went left and up, down and right, then he paused, pulling the bag from his shoulder to rummage through it, pulling out what could only be described as junk, metal and rusty and junk none the less

Although the way he motioned to the item, placed it in your open palms and played a scene before you, you took to guessing

“Metal?”

“Sculpture…?”

He moved his fingers like a painter would stroke a canvas

“Art?”

That single word had the clown clapping his hands, tucking his body with a faux bow like you’d discovered something only a genius could

Laughing something genuine for the first time that night, you pondered if you should just take your chances and leave for home, or stick around a bit more with this concerning but most definitely interesting person

“So.. what else do you have in that bag?”

Stu Macher

Being the new student in a town where everyone already had friends, or at least those they only socialized with, was difficult

You’d only been here a week or so and you already wanted to move again, alas, that wasn’t exactly up to you

All you could do was hold your head high, and suck up the annoying situation you’d been tossed into

Now, a new school was bad enough, imagine your surprise would you found out there had recently been a string of grisly murders, unsolved and rampaging

Which is why you’d been an outcast since you’d appeared, like they all assumed it must be you, the murders starting, you arriving, it all was too much of a coincidence, despite the fact that it was

“Look at her, I’m telling you that girl gives off crazy”

Off handed comments like those weren’t unusual, yet today, after switching to a new class because of this exact issue, you’d had enough

“I bet she’s the killer”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your evidence?”

The girl gossiping with her friend abruptly stopped her ‘private’ conversation when she heard your quip

“Excuse me?”

You stood, in fact you stood so fast it made the chair screech across the floor, catching the attention of the rest of class

Luckily the teacher had stepped out and you could finally say what you needed without worry of authority looming over

“You know, if I’m supposedly killing students, like you say I am, why so proudly speak about it around me?”

You strode up to her desk, arms crossed with a look of disdain

She seemed taken aback, lips moving like a fish and head bobbing as she glanced between you and her friend

“Well, I-“

“If you really think I’m doing all this, why would you piss me off?”

The girl was at a loss, face paling as you simply said what you needed, before turning and grabbing your bag right as the bell went off, students funneling out behind you

Opening your locker, you startled when a body came crashing into the locker beside yours, arms crossed and looking at you with squinted eyes yet a wide grin

“So you’re the new girl?”

He wasn’t half bad looking, in fact, you found yourself heating up the longer he gazed down at you

He had this odd air about him, like someone holding too many secrets and hiding them far too out in the open, something that only seemed to allure you further

“And a murderer, haven’t you heard?”

You joked, taking out your next classes books before shutting the locker, the look on this guys face was utter curiosity, something you hadn’t received yet while being here

“Of course, just let me know what days you spree so I can avoid staying in”

Not gonna lie to y’all, I was so focused on getting this posted I haven’t spell checked or done a once over, there will and most likely are errors!

[reareaotaku]

Save Me, Baby

Summary: Dick gains his first crush after saving a cute girl from the Penguin Pairings: Dick 'Richard' Grayson x Fem! Reader Tw: None Taglist: N/a Pt II: Watcher or Stalker? | Pt III: Death 2 Love

When the alarm started going off in the Batcave, Dick was ecstatic. He had only gone on a few missions with his adoptive father, Bruce, but now was a chance to prove himself.

He was quick to get in the Batmobile, with his Robin suit already on. He smiles up at Batman, which causes Batman to groan, but allow it. The drive was smooth, not to quick, because it was just the penguin.

"It looks like he has hostages." Batman messes with his head unit.

Robin listens with eager ears as Batman continues to tell him what to do. Robin's eyes follow Batman's hands as the hologram shows the Penguin's hostage area.

----

Robin looked at the multiple hostages that were tied up. His attention was drawn to a huge croonie. He smirked, prepping his feet, before kicking in the glass and landing on the croonie. There's a cheer from the hostages, causing Robin to smirk to himself. He messes with each of the ropes, before finally untangling them all.

You were relieved to not have the ropes rubbing against your skin. Robin helped you up, before leading the others outside.

You accidentally tripped on a broken wood piece in the floor, which caused your foot to get stuck.

Robin heard you yell, before looking back and seeing you stuck. "Hey-Here," He grabs you, trying to pull you up, but your foot was really stuck.

You started to freak out when realizing it was now just you and him and everyone else was already out safely.

"Hey, deep breaths. Deep breaths. You'll be fine, Robin's word." He tells you when realizing you were freaking out.

You looked up at him, a little dazed. "You promise?"

"For a pretty girl like you? Of course."

There's a moment of silence, that is occupied by your goofy smiles, before a voice is heard.

"There he is boys- Get him!"

Robin's eyes widen as he finally pulls you out and drags you around, but not outside. It was too dangerous outside. He pulls you into a different dark room, before pulling you up some stairs. Though, when you reach the top, there was Mr. Penguin.

"You've got to be kidding me-" Robin pushes you behind him, as a way to protect you.

"Oh, it's the new Boy Wonder I've heard so much about..." Penguin's smile grows on his face.

You feel someone grab you from behind, causing you to yell. "HEY!"

Robin quickly turns around, "Hey, let her go!" But before he can help you, Penguin knocks Robin out from behind with his umbrella.

---

You woke up disorientated, before groaning when realizing your hands were tied together. Expect this time you were tied to someone else. You struggle against the ropes, which ends up waking up the other person.

"Uhhh- Where am I..?"

To answer his question, the Penguin steps out of the shadow, clanking his cane on the ground. "Oh, lookie what I got."

"Oh, no."

Though before to much could happen, Batman comes out from the shadows and begins to fight the Penguin- Or at least you assume he did, because you couldn't see him. Though, you heard the screams of the bad guys.

You finally do get a glimpse of him when he stands in front of you. He was just as menacing and scary as the media described. He looks past you and at Robin. You hear Robin groan and you can practically feel the shame and disappointment.

---

You're brought into the Batmobile and it was silent. You felt bad, because it was your fault that you and Robin got caught. You wanted to speak, but you were scared of Batman. Though, you decided to finally swallow your fear and speak up.

"Uh.... Mr. Ummm.. Batman- I just wanted to say, it's my fault we got caught. I uh, got- my um s- foot stuck... In the wood."

He doesn't respond, but it feels a little less tense than before. Robin then turns to you a slight smile on your face.

"Don't worry about him. Where do you live, so we can get you home."

---

Batman pulls up to your dinger apartment complex. You still felt awkward because no one was talking. You open the door, but not before saying one last thing.

"You know... Everyone else may hate you guys, but I'm really grateful. Thank you again for saving me." And then you close the door and go to your apartment.

"She's nice." Batman finally speaks.

"Cute too. Wish I would have got her number."

[Might make a part 2?]

[cosmicpearlz]

my love is mine, all mine (pt 2)

summary: more glimpses of your relationship with jude!

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: i’m having too much fun writing these scenarios lol

~one~

you rarely ever get into arguments with jude but when it does happen, it’s terrible on everyone’s part. this particular moment was about him not spending enough time with you.

“so you’re saying i can’t hangout with my friends? because that’s what it’s sounding like.”

“jude, that’s not what i’m saying! i’m just saying that it would be nice to have a day with just us. i feel like i’m left on a back burner right now.”

“we do hangout. i mean, i’m here right now but you wanna spend the time arguing!”

“tell me the last time we had a day to ourselves! please enlighten me,” you were beyond frustrated and your head was hurting from all the yelling.

“stop being so fucking clingy. i see you at home every night! we don’t need to be together 24/7.”

you felt your heart throbbing from the pain of hearing those words. is it really such a crime to want quality time with someone you love? between his training sessions and your job, there hasn’t been much alone time.

“okay. my apologies for wanting my boyfriend here with me. i won’t ask again,” you took a step back, looking down to possibly stop the tears. it didn’t work. the more you thought about it, the more it hurt.

jude instantly regretted saying that. he understood completely where you were coming from but the stubbornness in him clouded his judgement.

“baby, i’m-“

“i don’t wanna talk to you jude.”

-

it’s been hours since he last saw you. jude already made the guest room into his bed for the night and found himself restless. he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but he couldn’t sleep without you near. even if you guys weren’t cuddling, at least his hand could be on you in some way. so he tossed and turned until he had enough.

jude makes his way to the room door, raising his hand to knock when the door swings open. it startles the both of you. leaving you to stare at each other in silence. jude noticed the dry tear streaks that laid on the apple of your cheeks. it made him feel worse.

“you really hurt-“

“i’m sorry bab-“

speaking at the same time wasn’t uncommon for you two, causing the both of you to let out a breathy laugh.

“you can go first honey,” his light whisper fell into the air as if he were too scared to talk any louder.

“jude, you really hurt my feelings earlier. i just wanted to spend time with you and you made it seem like i was asking for a million dollars or something bigger. i didn’t feel heard during our conversation but unfortunately i can’t sleep without you. so i was coming to drag you to bed even though i’m still very mad at you.”

“baby i’m sorry. i’m so sorry for hurting your feelings. i want you to know that i don’t mean it. hell, everyone knows i’m the clingy one! you’re the love of my life and i would spend days mending whatever hurt i caused,” his hands came to rest on your cheeks, fingers softly swiping at the dry tear stains.

“can we go to bed now? i’m exhausted and we can finish talking in the morning,” jude nods in response to you and kisses your nose.

“yeah, let’s go to bed m’love.”

~two~

“hey babe!”

jude looks up from his ipad upon hearing your voice through the phone. he was in germany for match and of course, he asked you to go with him. saying something along the lines of being his good luck charm. you couldn’t originally get the off time from your job.

“i miss you so much.”

“jude, baby you’ve been gone for like two days.”

“and your point is?”

“okay, whatever you say. anyways, i got a package for ya! just open the door.”

the boy failed to realize how close your face was in the camera and how you whispered. you had surprised him by coming to germany, being that your boss changed her mind and let you go. it wasn’t like you asked for off time a lot anyways.

“what?”

“can you open the door baby?”

jude jumps off the bed and practically leaps to the door. swinging it open to find you with a toothy smile. he rushes to hug you, bending down to your hight and pulling you into his arms.

“you said you couldn’t come!”

“surprise! my boss decided to let me take the time off last minute. i found the first flight here.”

“how’d you get to the hotel? i would’ve picked you up.”

“it wouldn’t have been a surprise then.”

he detaches himself from you to grab your bag, then grabbing your hand, walking you inside. you take a seat on the couch that was sitting in the room and smiled as your boyfriend put your bag next to his.

“i can’t believe you’re here.”

“well believe it,” jude sat next to you and began pressing kisses into whatever inch of skin he could get to.

“babe relax,” you say, in between giggles as he continued his work down to your neck. only getting off you when you pushed his shoulder back.

“i just missed you.”

“it’s been two days!”

“so what.”

~three~

you’ve become familiar with jude being your passenger princess. you never minded, it was just nice having someone to drive with. so, you took him on another one of your side quests. thrifting.

“i hope i find something good this time. last time we went, it was a bunch of bullshit.”

“i’m kinda hoping i see something i like,” you gasp into response to him, quickly looking at him and then looking back at the road.

“woah, thee jude bellingham is interested in thrifting?”

“oh come off it.”

“i’m just saying! i literally never heard you say anything like that. just making sure my ears heard correctly,” you give him a teasing smile.

“i will jump into oncoming traffic.”

“no you won’t.”

“i swear i will.”

“i’m calling your bluff.”

the silence in the car became loud as you both tested one another.

“no i won’t.”

“ha! i knew it.”

“whatever, drive faster loser. all the good stuff are gonna be gone.”

~four~

you wake up finding the bed empty. jude’s side is made up, totally not uncommon. you figured he was at training and got out of bed to get something to eat. as you walked to the kitchen, you find your boyfriend with his bare back towards you.

“good morning darling,” he turns his head to face you with a small smile.

“good morning. what’s all this?”

“i wanted to cook for you! training was canceled today because of a family emergency. i was gonna surprise you in bed but of course you had to wake up early.”

“that’s very sweet of you,” you make your way towards him and wrap your arms around his waist. pressing your front into his back, hugging him as tight as you could. you leaned up to kiss the back of his shoulder blade before stepping away.

“let’s spend the day inside.”

“are you sure jude? i know today is my off day but you don’t have to stay in with me.”

“i want to.”

jude plates the food and sits it on the dining room table. you follow close behind and go to grab your chair. instead, jude pulls out your chair for you. pushing you in before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. sitting down next to you, you both began to eat. a comfortable silence fills the room as you both ate. his free hand resting on your thigh, caressing the skin beneath his fingers.

“i love you so much. thank you for this.”

“you shouldn’t have to thank me. i’m your boyfriend, it’s a job of mine to make sure you’re feeling loved at all times.”

“trust me, i feel all the love right now.”

“it still wouldn’t be enough to express how much i truly am in love with you darling.”

“don’t get sappy on me bellingham,” you teased, watching his face attempt to hide a smile.

“oh we wouldn’t want that,” he plays along and kisses your cheek, making you both laugh in the process.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Three

A/N: Hi hi! I always make moodboards for my longer fics and came across this little secluded garden image and just had to work it into the fic. Hope you like this one! Thank you for all your likes, reblogs, comments, messages, they mean the world to me <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Synopsis: Tensions grow as the reader tries to pursue other marriage options, with Jace's help. Sparring, sneaking away, and midnight garden confessions ensue.

Tag List: @rinisfruity14, @gaiaea, @rexorangecounty

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You are an idiot. You replay the events of last night in your mind and grow more ashamed by the minute. You had thrown up in front of the prince, and then minutes later, nearly kissed him.

You write to Jeyne what you can, trying to leave out details that reveal just how mortifying the event was, but needing her advice. You wish you could wait, she's to come to King's Landing in a few months at Rhaenyra's request, but the matter seems too pressing to put off.

You wish you could tell someone here, but the only people you are close with are Jace’s brothers and Rhaena, sister to his fiancée. Rhaena had become a close friend during her time in the Vale, but you do not delude yourself that she will want to discuss your budding feelings for her sister’s betrothed. You are to meet with her and Baela in an hour, and you need all thoughts of the prince gone before you see them.

When you arrive in Rhaena’s chambers, she and Baela are looking at something on her table, completely transfixed by it that they don’t hear you enter. You clear your throat and they both look up with a smile.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Rhaena says, grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the table.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

“A list of potential prospects,” Baela says proudly. There are a dozen names on the list at least.

“I can’t believe you did this,” you say. Rhaena knocks her shoulder with yours.

“I want you to be happy,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Of course I did all this.” You take a quick scan of the names, recognizing a few lesser lords, third-born sons, men who wouldn’t mind marrying a woman without a title.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at them with wide eyes.

“We can go through the list together,” Rhaena says. “And weed out the bad. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” she asks Baela.

“It’s not that I don’t want to judge a group of men with the two of you,” she says with a smile, “But I already promised Jace I would fly with him today.” Your stomach flips excitedly at his name.

“Fine, leave all the fun to us,” Rhaena says.

“What kind of fun?”

The three of you snap your attentions to the doorway where Jacaerys stands, a bemused expression on his face. You say, “Nothing,” at the same time Baela says, “A list of suitors for Y/N.”

“Oh?” Jace asks, tilting his head, his eyes meeting yours. He walks over to the group, filling in the space between you and Baela.

“Y/N,” he says lowly in greeting.

“Your Highness,” you say, for some reason, suddenly breathless. He looks at the list for a long minute, a frown on his face. He turns it over, like he expects more names.

“Nothing indeed,” he says, pursing his lips. You glare at him, but it only makes the corners of his mouth upturn.

“What do you mean nothing?” Baela asks, snatching the slip back from him. “Rhaena and I worked hard on this list.”

“I can name at least four names on that list that are older than fifty. Lord Farwynd is a drunk, Ser Mollen a cheat. I could keep going.”

“Please don’t,” Rhaena says. “It was just a place to start.”

“Well, if you would like my opinion, you know where to find me,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I will keep that in mind, Your Highness,” you say.

“Good.” He turns his attention to Baela. “Are you ready?”

“Yes." She exchanges a glance with her sister, rolling her eyes. Rhaena hides her smile from the prince.

“Ladies,” Jacaerys says, nodding to you and Rhaena both, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment.

“Good luck,” Baela says, urging Jace out the door with her hand on his shoulder. You look away when the sight makes envy twine through you. The door closes behind them and Rhaena sighs.

“The list isn’t perfect,” she begins, “But—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, “We’ll just have to do our research is all. There’s got to be someone good on here.”

For the next week, that is all you do. You spend every day with Rhaena, sometimes joined by Baela, discussing what they know about each name on the list, what the maids can tell them, and what little they can find out about their families in the history books of the library.

You meet with a few men, taking strolls with them through the gardens, sharing a meal with them, and even attending gatherings of theirs. So far, nothing has clicked. The men are more often kind than not, but the attraction just isn’t there.

At lunch one day, after a long week of researching suitors, and making forced conversation with a few, you find yourself enjoying a rare, quiet meal. The room you’re in has a large window, and is up so high, you can’t hear the chatter of the city.

You take a moment to center yourself, to recognize how lucky you are to be here. The suitors had been boring, but they had all seemed kind. Each of them was far better than Lord Blacktyde.

It was foolish to assume that you would find a love match, and one so quickly, too. It was best that you just picked one, one who laughed at the jokes you told, and looked into your eyes while you spoke, not down at your chest. Fantasizing about a knight in shining armor wasn’t going to get you anywhere.

The door opens across the room, shaking you from your thoughts, and Aegon walks in, Viserys following with two maids.

“Well, hello, Your Highnesses,” you say, standing as they approach.

“Y/N,” Aegon says, “You have to come see us spar. Jace taught us so many new moves since the Vale.”

“Really?”

“Really!” Viserys chimes in.

“He says we’re nearly as good as Joffrey.”

“Well, I definitely need to come see for myself, then,” you say. The boys smile excitedly.

“We are sparring in an hour,” Aegon says.

“I will be there,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze. He laughs and squeezes yours back, before turning and running out the door with his brother, the maids racing after them.

An hour later, you arrive at the sparring grounds. The moment you step outside, you are met with the sound of swords clashing, grunting, yelling, and the smell of sweat. It is unpleasant, but it confirms you are in the right place.

Walking across the viewing platform you stop along the railing. A rare sea breeze reaches your face at this height, and you breathe it in greedily. It is a reminder of home, and one that settles you. When you look down at the sparring grounds, you find Jacaerys’s eyes on you. He is smiling gently and doesn’t look away when you meet his gaze.

He strolls over, looking up at you, his eyes squinting slightly in the sun. He is still smiling when he greets you.

“Hello there,” he says.

“Good afternoon, My Prince,” you say, leaning over more to meet his eyes.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before,” he says, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Aegon invited me,” you say, nodding towards the younger boy, making his way across the field, wooden sword in hand.

“Ah,” Jace says, his smile growing.

“He wants to show me some of the new things he’s learned from his brother,” you say. You cannot help but stare at Jacaerys. Sweat clings to his brow and hair, the latter of which has been slicked back with it, highlighting the angles of his face. He wears dark armor that clings to him favorably. When you snap back into the present, the prince is smirking at your perusal.

“Well, we’ll be sure to put on quite the show,” he says, nodding to you before walking over to Aegon. Viserys and Joffrey make their way onto the grounds, both giving you a kind smile when they spot you.

Jacaerys begins with Aegon, giving the younger boy a few instructions. Aegon is a bit nervous at first, missing his step and tripping over his own toes. He settles after a moment. He lunges for Jace, who blocks the move easily. He parries back, testing Aegon. The boy does as he was taught and meets his brother’s wooden blade. You cheer for him and clap.

They both turn towards you. Aegon is beaming proudly. Jace is smiling, too. Your gaze meets his for a moment too long. A moment, which is only broken when Aegon takes a swing at his brother, knocking the wind out of him.

You stand up, a hand covering your mouth in shock. Joffrey and Viserys make their way towards the other pair, looks of surprise on their faces, too. Jace stands up slowly, a hand to his stomach. When you realize he is alright, you are the first to start laughing.

Jace looks at you in mock offense, a smile pulling across his face. Aegon starts on next, equally amused and proud of himself. Joffrey falls into laughter next, followed quickly by Viserys, who seems to want to match his brothers.

“Something amusing?” Jacaerys asks. You keep laughing, striving to catch your breath and call your answer back to him, but it takes another moment. When you look at him, a smile is plastered to his face.

“I’m sorry, Jace, but that was one of the funniest things I’ve ever witness,” you say, fighting off your laughter. He tries to look angry, but his smile returns at the fact you said his name, and he smiles again.

“So,” he calls out, turning to face to his brothers, “What was my fatal mistake?”

“You took your eyes off your opponent,” Aegon says.

“You were staring at Y/N,” Joffrey says, smirking in your direction. Heat spreads over your cheeks, but you don't break his stare.

“I became distracted, yes,” Jace says, “Ideally, when you do face an opponent, there won’t be a beautiful woman there to distract you, but it is important to always stay vigilant.” He puts the younger boys back into position, calling moves for them to display.

You watch for another half an hour or so, admiring the care Jace takes with his brothers; the subtle way he’ll cuff their chins or ruffle their hair after giving them a firm correction. The younger boys catch on quickly and clearly enjoy the extended attention from Jacaerys.

When the younger two leave the field, you plan to do so as well, until Jace calls your name. You meet him again over the balcony, looking down at him. He has gotten sweatier, his curls becoming more unruly. He stripped off his breast plate, leaving him in just his undershirt, which clings to his chest. You think he has done it on purpose, given the delight in his eyes when you can’t take yours off him.

“Care to join us?” he asks, panting slightly.

“What?”

“You said you were a sparring partner for Joff back in the Vale,” he says, a growing smile on his face, “I’d quite like to see what you can do.” You are momentarily speechless, laughing in disbelief.

“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you say.

“We’ll go easy on you,” he says.

“Is that what you think I’m worried about?” you ask, cocking your head to the right slightly. Jace beams, biting his lip to try and hide the smile.

“No, I think you’re afraid to be close to me right now,” he says, quiet enough that only you can hear. “Given how you have been staring at me all afternoon.”

“You think highly of yourself, Your Highness.”

“Come down,” he says simply. You take in a breath, knowing that you can’t fight him anymore.

“Fine,” you say.

When you step out onto the training grounds, Jace is stunned into silence. He is not sure he has ever seen you in trousers before, and the pair you wear now cling to your thighs, leaving very little to his imagination. The blue tunic you wear over top is fitted as well, cinched at your waist, pushing up your cleavage prominently. Joffrey looks between you and Jace as you walk onto the field and just shakes his head with a laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he says, patting his brother on the back.

“You’re not staying?” Jace asks.

“No, I think I’ll give you some alone time. Besides, Aegon bruised the hell out of my chest,” he says, rubbing the spot. “Think I’ll need a few hours of rest at the very least.” He finishes his sentence with a wink before walking away. He says something to you on his way out.

“I think you scared Joffrey off,” Jace says when you walk up to him.

“He remembers my fighting prowess all too well,” you say with a smirk. Jace extends his hand out to the rack of weapons. He watches your eyes widen on the Valyrian steel swords, the axes, and the mace. You pick up a wooden sword.

“A fine choice.”

“Are you going to make fun of my decisions or spar with me?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest. The aggravated look you give him for some strange reason heats his skin, and he picks up his own wooden sword to give himself something else to look at.

“So,” he says, “How goes the suitor hunt?” He readies himself into a fighting stance, waiting for you to do the same. When you do, you lunge first, a simple move, but executed perfectly. Jace blocks you easily and both of you back up.

“It’s been a lot of work,” you say, quickly moving your sword when he tries to cut into you. Jace smiles, impressed. “You cannot believe how many men Rhaena and Baela have found.”

“No one standing out?” he asks, jumping back slightly when you advance towards him.

“Not for the right reasons,” you say. Jace strikes back against your blade, pushing you back a few steps with a flourish until you nearly fall onto your ass. He grabs your arm before you can, righting you gently.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you say breathlessly, looking up at him. “That was a good move.”

“Thanks,” he says, a soft grin on his face as he steps back.

“Show me,” you say, “How to do that.”

“I can,” he says, “But I’ll have to get closer to you.” He watches your cheeks heat and is filled with pride.

“This again?” you ask, “I was not watching you.”

“Of course not,” he says. He moves behind you, nearly shaking as his hands straighten your shoulders. He moves his arm around you, holding your own as he moves them into the correct position. He can feel the quiver of your breath, and has to center himself to keep from doing something stupid in front of the rest of the men on the field.

“So, you’ll hold your blade upright like that,” he says, watching in awe as gooseflesh appears across your shoulder at his words, spoken close to your skin. “And when you lunge, you’ll move like this.” He puts a hand on your waist and moves forward with you. You barely move, so shocked are you by his close proximity. When you butcher the move, you laugh, your head thrown back just slightly, so that your hair falls onto Jace’s arm, and he gets an extended view of your neck.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head as you right yourself again.

“Don’t be,” he says gently.

“Like this?” you ask, stepping forward, Jace still locked with you. You execute the move perfectly, but Jace has you try it another few times, to keep you close to him for longer. When he knows he can’t stay behind you for any more, he breaks away and watches you complete the move.

“Well done,” he says, trying not to stare at your sweaty brow, the few hairs that cling to it. You are panting, and the rise and fall of your chest does wonders for the already exposed cleavage. He is not sure where he should turn his gaze.

“You are an excellent trainer,” you say.

“You’re my first,” he says. Heat rises to his cheeks, before he corrects himself, “My first pupil, besides my brothers.”

“Right,” you say, returning the wooden sword to the rack. “Well, thank you again. This was a lovely distraction from . . . everything.”

“Anytime,” he says. You turn to leave, but he stops you as he says, “I mean it. Anytime. I know you have your meetings with the suitors, but if you ever need an out, I’m here.”

“Thank you, My Prince,” you say, giving him a kind smile before leaving the field.

The next two weeks, you do take him up on the offer. You find him after a torturous afternoon spent with Lord Musgood, who said very little to you, and instead spent most of his time studying the flowers in the garden. The prince helps you craft a lie to leave him in the gardens, and you end up spending the rest of the day with him instead, creating a list of lies to use when you need to leave a meeting.

On days when you have no meetings, you spend at least one meal with him, recounting the events with the men, what they did to make you laugh, what you knew would make him laugh.

On the third week of your suitor meetings, you are searching for an out that never seems to come. Ser Rowan never gives you a chance to tell a lie, given that he rambles on and on about the livestock in his home. As you pass through the halls of the Red Keep, one you’re sure you’ve passed once before, you are desperate for an escape.

He's left you no choice but to literally escape. As you near the entrance to the very gardens you left Lord Musgood in, you slow your steps. Ser Rowan doesn’t seem to notice. You stop completely, giving him one second to notice your absence, before you slip out into the night air, into the dark, damp of the gardens.

You wait silently by the entrance, waiting for him to turn around and call after you. After a few minutes, you let out a breath and wander deeper into the gardens. A few aisles down, you hear a crack of a twig. You expect it to be a gardener, or perhaps Ser Rowan, but when you turn around, Jace is there instead.

His sudden appearance startles you. You put a hand to your chest, to soothe the pounding heart underneath. He stops underneath an archway, a few feet from you.

“Your Highness,” you say in a breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here. I didn’t mean to startle you.” You nod your head, letting out a deep breath. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were spending time with Ser Rowan.”

“Unfortunately, I was,” you say with a frown, stepping closer to him. Jace bites back a smile, studying your face.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I now know about the mating habits of cattle at his home,” you say, relaxing when he laughs. “There is one cow in particular, bit of a harlot,” you say.

“The scandal,” Jace says, leaning against the archway. “How did you get away from him? Did you use the story we used on Ser Dayne or did you fake an illness like we did with Ser Rosby?”

“Neither, actually,” you say, leaning up against the opposite end of the arch. “I couldn’t get a word in, so I just ran when I had the chance.” This sends Jacaerys into a new wave of laughter, snorting at your folly.

“So, this one isn’t a keeper either,” he says gently.

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you’re sure he doesn’t mean it.

“So am I,” you say, “I’m starting to run out of options, and with my history of abandoning these men, I won’t even be able to settle for the boring ones, either.”

“If only you didn’t have to settle,” he says. For once, he isn’t looking at you.

“A luxury I, unfortunately, don’t have,” you say.

“But if you—"

“Y/N?”

Jace quiets as Ser Rowan enters the gardens, calling out your name. You look to him with wide, panicked eyes. Quickly, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the maze-like gardens. The lord calls out again, clearly hearing your footsteps. Jace pulls you into an alcove, surrounded by shrubbery, with a fountain at its center. Pressed into a corner, you both wait with shallow breath to see if the lord follows.

After a few minutes, he grumbles to himself and enters the castle proper. When he is out of sight, you both let out a gasp of relief. The movement brings Jace’s chest to your back, and you suddenly realize how close you are standing. Your body is sheltered by his arms, fitted perfectly against his.

You make to move away, but Jace stops you with a hand around your wrist.

“What are—”

“You’ve got something.” His other hand reaches into your hair delicately and extracts a twig that had gotten caught from the shrubbery.

“Thank you,” you say, stepping back quickly. He watches you move away with a strange expression on his face.

“He does seem the sort to ramble on about cattle,” he says, making you laugh. It releases a tension in you, and you can see Jace notice the change.

“Now you see why I ran,” you say with a smile. You walk over to the fountain, your fingers trailing through the cool water. “You’re lucky to have Baela,” you say. Jace doesn’t say anything, but follows you, looking at your reflection in the fountain. “She is lovely.”

“She is.”

“The sort who wouldn’t wax on about cattle,” you say, chancing a look up at him. He smiles, but it’s not the same. It seems to be working hard to mask the sadness that is really on his face.

“I have never known her to, no,” he says.

“It must be a relief, that you know your future spouse so well. No surprises.”

“It can be difficult, too,” he says, looking into the water. “I have known Baela all my life, and while she is lovely, we don’t necessarily have a love match.”

“Does anyone?” you ask with a laugh.

“I’d like to think so,” he says, turning to meet your eyes. You can see that he is serious.

“Sadly, I don’t think people get to marry the ones they love too often,” you say. “Politics always seems to get in the way.”

“It’s something I’d like to change when I become king,” he says boldly. You raise an eyebrow at him, before pacing around the fountain, your fingers running along the wet grout pattern.

“You’ll be married to Baela by then,” you say, “Your mother will live a long life as our queen, and by the time you get to the throne, you and Baela will have five sons already.” He doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenched tight, and you realize how inappropriate what you just said was, how inappropriate you’ve been with him all night. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me today.”

“Y/N,” he says, stopping you when you circle back to him, his hand on your forearm. The motion draws your face up to his. “Where will you be?”

“What?”

“When I am king, with five sons by Baela, where will you be?” he asks.

“I suppose married as well,” you say, your voice suddenly weak. At his proximity, you are once again nearly speechless, your heart thudding.

“With five sons?” he asks.

“If the gods see fit to bless me with them,” you say, glancing down at the hand still wrapped around you. Jace drops his hand, looking down at his own.

“And who is this husband?” he asks.

“I haven’t a clue,” you say, sitting along the edge of the fountain, “You’ve seen my candidates.”

“No love matches there,” he says.

“No.”

“But there must be some contenders? Someone who made you feel something,” he says, looking at you. The conversation has taken a turn somewhere it can’t go, and you sigh.

“Jace,” you say. He moves closer to you, his eyes searching your face frantically as he shortens the minimal gap between the two of you. A gentle, calloused hand cups your cheek and makes you look him in the eye.

“There’s no one who makes you feel anything?” he asks again.

“None of the suitors,” you whisper. He is moving closer, and you both want to stop him and want him to close the space between you. But when you feel his breath on your lip, you turn away, taking in a shaky breath. You stand and put a few paces between the pair of you.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“How are you able to fight your feelings?” he asks quietly, a tortured expression on his face. He runs a hand through his hair anxiously, leaving his curls strewn haphazardly. “I know you feel the same.”

“Jace,” you say with a sigh.

“How?”

“I keep those longings locked away,” you say, hating that you’re admitting to him these feelings.

“Why?”

“Because following them can lead nowhere good,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He moves in closer, his hand on your waist, keeping your chest pressed to his.

“This doesn’t feel good?” he asks with a shake of his head. You put a hand to his strong chest, pushing off gently.

“That’s not what I mean,” you say. “You are a prince, Jace, and you are betrothed. Letting these feelings out . . . it won't end well."

“So, you’ll just live without ever knowing?” he asks. “Without knowing what it’s like to kiss me, to be held by—”

“Yes,” you say, cutting him off, “Yes. If they stay thoughts, they cannot hurt me. We’ve already done it all in my mind, and that is enough. It has to be,” you say.

“You deserve so much better than those third-born sons,” he says.

“I don’t,” you say.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t, Jace. I deserve exactly these men. They aren’t asking for a dowry, for land, or a title. They are asking for a wife. That is the only thing I have to offer them.”

“You have so much more—”

“Stop, please,” you say quietly. He moves closer, just a step, and draws your eyes to him. He is so beautiful, the pale moonlight lighting his features, spotlighting the pain in his eyes. He has been nothing but kind to you, and you hate that you are causing him pain.

“It’s best if we pretend these feelings don’t exist,” you say, nodding up at him, waiting for him to agree.

“If that’s what you want,” he says quietly.

“It’s what I need,” you say. “It’s a vow we both need to uphold, somehow.”

“Alright,” he says, his face falling. “We’ll pretend.”

“Okay.”

“You should probably get back to your quarters,” he says, moving away from you with a sniff. “Before he comes looking again.”

“Right,” you say, straightening. “Thank you, again, Your Highness.” He frowns at the title, but nods.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”