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c-e-d-dreamer · 10 months

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But I'm Only Looking At You: Part One

A/N: It's officially here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I'm super excited to see all the amazing content that everyone will be sharing this week, and I'm extra excited to share this fic with you all. We may be stretching the prompts with this, but doesn't that make it more fun! I mean, Rhys visits Cassian in this first chapter, so doesn't that fit the Brother theme? Maybe? A very big shout-out to @separatist-apologist who so graciously gave me this prompt. This fic is dedicated especially to you, fandom-sanctioned bestie! :)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part

Don’t say yes, run away now. I’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door

Three Years Ago

Cassian’s eyes flit across the grass that stretches out across the meadow. The tall, green stalks sway gently in the early summer breeze, twisting and twining together like dancers moving to the melody of the wind. Purple and white wildflowers bloom in small batches, a burst of color against the blue sky overhead. A willow tree stands tall and proud beside the small creek that burbles and weaves its way around the dirt and stones, and sitting beneath it, half hidden by the drooping branches, is Nesta.

Just where he expects to find her.

He takes a moment to admire her, the sight already stealing the breath straight from his lungs, already pulling a soft smile across his face. She has her knees curled up toward her chest, a book balanced perfectly on her knees, her head bowed over the pages as she devours the words. The rays of sunlight that break through the leaves and branches of the willow cut across her in golden streaks. It leaves the braid of her hair looking like a true crown of burnished gold, and Cassian knows once he gets closer, he’ll be able to count every faint freckle that’s sunkissed across her skin too.

It’s on quiet feet that Cassian makes his way over to her, using the sounds of the water to his advantage as he follows along the creek until he reaches the willow. He curls around the trunk of the tree until he can peer down over Nesta’s shoulder, until he can watch her deft fingers turn yet another page in her book.

“Hello, Nes.”

Cassian is slightly disappointed when Nesta doesn’t jump at his voice, but when she lets out a long sigh, his smile grows wide again. He steps around and settles in the spot beside her, daring to sit close enough that his shoulder brushes against hers. Nesta doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even bother looking up from her book, but Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips are slightly pinched.

In the years that he’s known Nesta Archeron, he’s learnt every one of her expressions, every look, every tell. He’s categorized them all and tucked them close to his heart. The long withering sigh to hide a soft, amused laugh. The pinched lips to keep away the fond smile. The way those blue gray eyes of hers will blaze and narrow at him until his heart is skipping over itself in excitement.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Cassian asks innocently, reaching forward and tugging one of the wildflowers free from the ground.

“I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Nesta shoots back, and though Cassian can’t quite see her face from his spot beside her, he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes at him.

“Well, then, don’t let me disturb that,” Cassian tells her, neatly tucking the flower into the braid of her hair.

“Oh, believe me. I don’t intend to.”

Cassian has to bite back a smirk at the remark. Nesta always has to have the last word. He stretches his hands back behind his head, leaning against the trunk of the willow and letting his eyes flutter shut. He counts the second in his mind, already feeling Nesta’s annoyance growing with each passing second of silence. His blood practically sings in anticipation, leaping at the chance for another round of their game.

Nesta snaps her book closed loudly. “What do you want, Cassian?”

“Can’t I just enjoy your company?”

“Last time I checked, the only thing you enjoy is the sound of your own voice.”

Cassian chuckles, but he sits up properly again. “I had my final lessons today. My boarding school days are officially behind me.”

Nesta finally turns to look at him properly, and she leaves Cassian feeling as breathless as she did the first time he met her. She’s so damned beautiful, and Cassian is so enraptured that he almost misses what she says next.

“And have you decided on Cambridge or Oxford?”

Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, dropping his gaze to his hands before he explains, “neither. My father has fallen ill, and now that I’ve finished my schooling, I’ll be returning home to learn the trade and prepare to take over for him.”

“I see.”

Cassian looks up at her again, his eyes tracking the flower that still sits in her braid. The softness to her blue eyes that he swears only he gets to see. Those constellations of pale freckles that he knows must be echoed across her skin elsewhere. A strand of hair has fallen free from her updo, tumbling down along her temple, and Cassian’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside.

One day. One day, he’ll be able to, he’s sure of it. He swears it. One day, he’ll have fully taken over the family business, will have made a name for himself, and he’ll speak to her father and finally ask the question that burns on the tip of his tongue.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Cassian asks instead.

Nesta lets out another long sigh. “And what if I don’t wish to write to you?”

“I’ll just have to write to you then. I’m sure you’ll miss our witty repartee.”

“I assure you that is not what I will miss.”

Cassian smirks, daring to ask, “my handsome face, then?”

“You are quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Nesta snaps, clambering up to her feet.

Cassian jumps to his feet as well. He catches Nesta’s hand before she can walk too far, stopping her steps. Her eyes snap down to the contact, fingers flexing for just a moment, a pretty dusting of pink spilling across her cheeks.

“Promise you’ll write, Nes,” Cassian requests, his voice quiet.

He’s not above begging, would drop to his knees right there in the meadow for anything she’s willing to give him. His fingers slide along her wrist where her hand is still clasped in his, and he swears he can feel her heart fluttering away beneath that touch. He wonders if she knows the way she holds his.

“I promise.”

~ * * * ~

Today

Cassian rushes down the main staircase of his home just as Mrs Reynolds closes the front door with a soft snick. His heart pounds away between his ribs, pressing a lump up into his throat, but he uses all his willpower not to let his nerves show. He clenches his hands tightly into fists and plasters on his best, easy smile as Mrs Reynolds turns back around, not a lick of surprise on her face when she sees Cassian waiting eagerly.

“Any letter today?” Cassian asks, praying the desperation licking through his veins doesn’t bleed into his tone.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Mrs Reynolds apologizes, sympathy lining her brown eyes. “Nothing today again.”

Cassian nods, not even bothering to try and push words out. He beelines for the kitchen, quickly grabbing some food before locking himself away in his office. He falls heavily into his chair, letting out a long breath. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers getting caught in the tangled strands which only adds to the dark storm cloud brewing in his chest. He feels stupid, but there’s no stopping the way his heart twists and squeezes, betraying the emotions he’s trying desperately to shove back down.

Even worse, he can’t seem to shut up that voice that claws its way through the back of his mind. It digs in and won’t let up, dark whispers feeding into Cassian’s every insecurity. He still remembers every word, every name, he heard back when he was in boarding school, from the boys, from their mothers. It didn’t matter that his family had money, didn’t matter that his father had made a name for them, didn’t matter the factories they had and everything they produced. He would always be looked down upon by all that old money of London.

With another sigh, Cassian finally shakes himself and pulls his papers close to him, determined to get some work done and take his mind off those swirling thoughts and swirling emotions. He scratches out a reply to one of his suppliers, but as soon as Cassian has signed his name, his hand pauses, grip tightening on his pen.

His gaze dances down to the bottom drawer of his desk. Taunting him. Beckoning him.

He shakes his head and goes back to writing out another response, but he barely makes it halfway through before once again his eyes are drawn to that damned drawer. Cassian lets out a groan and tosses his pen aside. He yanks open the drawer and pulls out the letters stacked neatly inside.

Just as he’s done for the past few weeks, he pulls out the most recent one, dated a month ago. He traces over the lines and loops of the ink on the page, smiling as he once again reads Nesta’s story about her sisters. He tries to find some hint, some clue, to understand Nesta’s sudden silence, the lack of a letter since his last reply, and yet he can’t find one. The letter reads just the same as all the ones she’s been sending since he left London.

A knock at his office door finally pulls Cassian away from Nesta’s letters. He looks up, ready to call out to Mrs Reynolds that he doesn’t need anything, but before he can, the door is opening. Cassian blinks a few times in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Rhys? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Really?” Rhys teases, stepping fully into the office and settling easily into one of the chairs opposite Cassian with all the casual grace of a Duke. “That’s how you greet me?”

“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cassian chuckles slightly. “It’s just unlike you to travel all this way. What could have possibly pulled you away from London? And without a letter informing me either.”

“I can’t simply want to come visit one of my closest friends?”

“Rhys.”

Rhys lets out a soft sigh, shifting in his seat. The serious look that takes over his face has Cassian’s stomach dropping. There’s been only a very few instances that Cassian has seen that expression on his friend’s face, and none of those times ended well.

“It didn’t feel right putting this in a letter,” Rhys begins, leaning forward and meeting Cassian’s gaze head on. “I’ve known you since we were kids in school together, and you know I see you and Az like brothers.”

“You’re starting to worry me, Rhys.”

“I care about you, Cass. And I know you. I know how you feel about Nesta Archeron, how you’ve felt about her for years, so I want you to hear it from me… she’s engaged now.”

For a moment, Cassian swears the world stops tilting beneath his feet. Everything comes lurching to a hard and painful stop, throwing him off balance and sending him spiraling down and down. There’s a ringing that takes up home in Cassian’s ears, a lump pressing into his windpipe until he feels like he can’t breathe.

“What?” Cassian chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Everything he had ever built up in his mind shatters right there, right before his very eyes. The way he imagined finally going back to London this summer, courting Nesta properly and the way she deserves outside his letters. The way he planned to speak with her father to officially ask for her hand. The way he could perfectly picture Nesta here, in this house, with him.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys continues, offering a sympathetic grimace. “It was only just announced, and I had no idea she was being courted, or I would have told you sooner.”

“I guess that explains why her letters stopped,” Cassian grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. “So, who’s the lucky gentleman?”

“Tomas Mandray.”

The humorless laugh tears free from Cassian before he can stop it. “That prick we went to school with? And Nesta agreed to his proposal?”

“Her father did. Tomas is a Viscount following his own father’s passing.”

“I’m sure no one misses him. We all knew what type of man he was.”

“Rumor has it Tomas is the same.”

That comment has Cassian’s fists clenching, anger beginning to simmer just beneath his skin. Everything within him rebels at that idea, at Nesta being subjected to someone like the fucking Mandrays. His own soul seems to snarl and growl in agreement, instincts screaming at him to do something, to stop this, to protect her.

Cassian stands up and starts gathering all of the papers and things he’ll need to spend time away in London. “Have they already started reading the Banns?”

“Tomas has apparently put in for a Bishop’s License instead,” Rhys explains, eyeing Cassian with narrowed eyes as he moves around the office. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

“How do you feel about a party?”

~ * * * ~

The music of the string quartet stationed in the corner wafts through the ballroom, the light, lilting melody swirling amongst the sea of bodies in the room, around the crystal chandelier hanging high above their heads. It seems all of London’s best has come out to Velaris estate, all dripping in the latest fashion and practically clamoring for some gossip as much as excitement.

The newest ladies to be out in society and their mothers circle around the ballroom like sharks on the hunt, some even daring to eye up Cassian where he stands, but he only has attention for one woman tonight. His gaze sweeps across the room until he spies her, standing with her youngest sister, Feyre.

She still takes his breath away just as much as the last time he saw her, as the first day he met her. Her hair is styled in her usual braided crown, not a strand or pin out of place, but the golden brown color still glints beneath the chandelier’s lights. Her dress is a deep green color, a shade that contrasts well with her eyes, and there’s the faintest hint of rouge on her cheeks, drawing attention to the cut of her cheekbones.

Cassian has to swallow hard as he watches her across the room. His heart thunders away in his chest, and he can feel the way it wants to lurch right into her waiting hands, can feel the tug right between his ribs drawing him into her. He quickly glances around, but there’s no sign of Tomas Mandray, so with a deep breath to try and calm his fraying nerves, Cassian strides across the ballroom to the only woman he’ll ever want.

“Hello, Nes.”

Nesta’s attention snaps to him at his greeting, her eyes widening for a moment before she schools her expression back into cool indifference. Imperceptibly, her spine straightens, her chin raising that small bit higher, almost in defiance, but Cassian catches it all. Another of her many looks that he’s cataloged, a refusal to back down.

“Cassian,” Nesta offers coolly, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Rhysand and I are good friends, if you’ll recall. Are you that surprised he extended me an invitation?”

“You traveled all the way to London for a House Party?”

Cassian chuckles, not bothering to bite back his smirk. “What can I say, sweetheart? I love a good party.”

Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips pinch slightly together, the flare that sparks through her blue eyes. A tell tale sign that she’s fondly annoyed with him. It has his grin growing, but just as soon as that expression graces her face, it shutters away. He can practically watch as she stacks every icy brick back into place, as the mask slides firmly back on.

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening,” Nesta tells him, grabbing Feyre’s elbow and turning them both away.

He’s losing her. She’s going to walk away, vanish amongst the others in attendance, and Cassian knows he won’t see her again. This is his one chance before she slips through his fingers like smoke. His mind scrambles for something to say, something to keep her here, to keep her talking to him, to keep her eyes on him. His eyes land on her wrist.

“Your dance card,” Cassian blurts out before he clears his throat and finds his voice again. “I see your dance card is not yet full for the night.”

Nesta blinks a few times in surprise, glancing down to her own wrist. She tries to pull her arm out of reach, but Cassian is faster, fingers curling around the small booklet. He unfolds it carefully, scrawling his name along the first empty line he sees.

“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Cassian continues, releasing the booklet and daring to let his fingers brush against Nesta’s in the process. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”

“Nesta. Feyre. Where have you two been?”

The cool, clipped tone has Cassian finally tearing his gaze away from Nesta and meeting instead the strict and pinched expression of Eleanor Archeron. Cassian can’t say he’s ever been a big fan of the Archeron matriarch, especially with the way just her presence has Nesta’s spine straightening that inch more, has her fingers curling imperceptibly into the skirts of her dress.

The feeling is clearly mutual. Eleanor’s eyes sweep over Cassian’s frame with clear distaste, not even bothering to hide the way her lip curls. To her, he’s nothing more than a brute, but he refuses to let her ire get to him.

“Lady Archeron,” Cassian greets politely, dipping his chin in a bow.

She doesn’t show him the same courtesy, doesn’t even acknowledge that he said anything at all. Instead, the fingers of her hands curl around Nesta’s and Feyre’s elbows, and Eleanor leads her daughters away without so much as a backwards glance. Cassian can’t help but let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. At least, the night is still young.

At least, he still has his dance with Nesta to look forward to.

Though, it’s agonizing for Cassian to wait for his turn. Especially, since Nesta spends most of the dances partnered with fucking Tomas. It boils his blood watching the way Tomas’s fingers curl possessively into the fabric of Nesta’s dress, the way his hand sits dangerously low along her back, just toeing the line with what’s proper. Even worse is the Viscount’s expression, the knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk tugging up his lips. It’s all savage, male pride, and Cassian’s fists clench hard enough that his nails bite into the palm as Tomas twirls Nesta around the ballroom.

Nesta has always been the best damned thing that ever happened to Cassian. Those stormy, blue eyes had haunted his dreams from the moment they snapped to his gaze, burning with a fire that almost brought him to his knees right then and there. She never backed down from anything he threw at her, going toe to toe with him in a way that only served to further thrill and excite him, that always left him itching to go another round of their back and forth. He lived for every scoff, every eye roll, every haughty jab.

But even more so, he lived for every smile, every laugh he was able to draw out of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first time he ever made Nesta laugh, the way the air was stolen straight from his lungs at that light, melodic sound. He craved it like a starved man after that.

Craved her.

It was Nesta that drove Cassian to study as hard as he did at school, to devour every book and every lesson. Her that drove him to work as hard he did after his father passed, to build up the factories and his family name. To build up himself into the type of man, the type of gentleman, that deserved her.

Unlike Tomas Mandray.

Nesta is the best damned thing to happen to him too, and the bastard clearly doesn’t even realize it, doesn’t appreciate it. He certainly isn’t the type of man to deserve her.

The music of the string quartet comes to an end, and finally, Nesta and Tomas pull apart from one another, Nesta dipping into a polite curtsey. When she straightens again, her eyes scan around the room, landing right on Cassian. Just as it always does, his heart gives a longing pang deep in his chest, and he just hopes it’s not too noticeable on his face.

Rhys and Az have always teased him for the way he tends to wear his heart so plainly on his sleeve. And his chosen brothers have certainly teased him for the way he tends to become a fumbling idiot wherever and whenever Nesta Archeron is concerned. But he’s determined not to fuck it up this time. Determined not to fuck things with her up. This is his chance, and he prays it won’t be his last.

With slow, careful steps, Cassian makes his way across the dance floor of the ballroom, not taking his eyes off Nesta’s face for a moment. When he’s standing before her, he holds his hand out between them, palm up and waiting. Nesta slides her hands into his, and that one simple touch has sparks skating up Cassian’s arm. He gently curls his fingers around hers, relishing in the warmth and weight, in the rightness, of having her hand in his. His other hand slides along her waist to the small of her back, fingers flexing almost subconsciously. He swears he can hear Nesta’s breath hitching in her throat when he tugs her closer, but any sound is drowned out by the string quartet beginning the next song.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Cassian says as he begins to lead them through the steps of the dance with ease. “On your engagement.”

Nesta’s hand tightens minisculely in his, but she gives no other sign that his words have struck a chord, that mask of hers still firmly in place. “Yes. Thank you.”

“How curious that you never mentioned Tomas in any of your letters.” Cassian keeps his tone light, his comment almost idle, but knows he’s hit his mark from the way her mask starts to slip, the way a flame sparks within her eyes, her mouth pinching down in a frown. “So, tell me, what is it you love about him?”

“Excuse me?” Nesta asks, her steps stuttering for just a moment.

Cassian doesn’t let it deter him, continuing through the steps of the dance as he continues speaking. “The Nesta I remember used to swear that she’d only marry for love, just like the women in her books.”

“That was a fairytale.”

“So, you don’t love him then?”

“How dare you,” Nesta hisses, stopping her steps abruptly and stepping out of Cassian’s hold. “How dare you come back to London after all these years and think you know anything.”

Cassian steps closer again, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing anymore attention to them. “I know more than you think, sweetheart.”

“You know nothing.”

That fire is blazing in her gaze now, but before Cassian can say anything more, she turns on her heel, stalking away. Cassian is quick to follow her, not giving up that easily. He follows her out the large, french doors of the ballroom and onto the terrace. The moon shines bright and full in the sky above, wispy streaks of silver blanketing some of the stars. The floral scent of the gardens floats to them on the evening breeze, the strands of Nesta’s hair blowing gently around her face.

“I know nothing?” Cassian laughs humorlessly. “Fine. Correct me, then. Tell me how much you want this marriage with Tomas Mandray.”

“You should go home, Cassian. Go back to Glasgow.”

“Not until you look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want. Not your father. Not your mother. You.”

The request hangs in the air between them, each second of silence that ticks by stifling. The music from inside pours out through the opened french doors and onto the terrace, but all Cassian can hear is his own heart thundering away, the blood pounding in his ears. He tries to will Nesta to understand, to realize that all she needs to do is say the word, that he’d do anything for her. He’d burn the world and place the ashes at her feet if she asked him to. For a brief moment, an emotion that looks dangerously like grief passes across her face, but just as soon as it appears, it vanishes, that mask sealing back firmly in place.

“Go home, Cassian.”

Nesta brushes past Cassian and back into the party, leaving him standing there alone on the terrace. He turns to watch her go, to watch her melt into the moving bodies of those dancing and mingling about. As she vanishes out of sight, he wonders if she knows she’s taking his heart with her, bloodied and bruised and straight from his chest.

He turns back toward the gardens and leans his hands against the railing that borders the terrace, fingers curling against the stone as he tightens his grip. He closes his eyes as he lets out a stuttering breath, tipping his head up toward the sky as if the stars may provide the answers he’s looking for.

She never answered his question, never fulfilled his request to declare that Tomas was what she wanted, and Cassian doesn’t think he’ll ever get that moment, that brief flash of anguish marring her face, out of his mind. He’s sure he’ll see it every time he closes his eyes. And it’s with startling clarity that Cassian knows. He knows that there will never be anyone else for him. He knows that he’d go to the ends of the earth for Nesta.

He knows that he’s about to do something very, very stupid.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods

#nessian #CassianAppreciationWeek2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #regency au #my fic

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imaginativeamateur · 2 years

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[Itachi Uchiha X Reader] First Snow Season 2 {Part 7}

Part 6 | Part 8

Pairing: Itachi Uchiha x fem!Reader

Note: This one is super fun, the curtains are falling!!!

~~/ /When you completely turned around, you could not see how your Secretary’s smile dropped as he glanced over to the earring he caught you gazing too long at earlier. His hand quickly stuffed it into his pants’ pocket. And his face turned grim. / /~~

Itachi was a man of his word. When he said he would drop by later in the day, he did, but not until the sun was setting over the village did he show up at your office. You, having already depleted your energy in earlier meetings and paperwork, were in no state of mind for a discussion with the raven-haired. And there were still forty more minutes until your day would be over.

“How are you doing?” He asked, taking a seat at the coffee table in front of your desk.

“Good.”

“How good?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Good to the point my brain is haywire and I can barely feel my toes.”

“You’ve been sitting for too long, Y/N.”

It was not like you did not know the root of the problem was because of your bad posture, coupled with having to sit in a stiff chair for a few hours straight. You glanced at him, still flattened out on your desk, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Get up,” he motioned, “we can walk around town and talk.”

You would give everything to get out of work early. Getting out of the office did not sound too bad, especially since you still had forty daunting minutes left. Leaping out of your chair, you quickly gathered your stuff and made a beeline out of the door with Itachi following suit. “I’m going to talk with Itachi-san and won’t be back for today so you don’t have to wait for me,” you waved at your Secretary on your way out. He nodded, gave you a thumbs-up, and went straight back to work without wasting another second.

Exhaling as you finally laid down on the grass, eyes closing just a moment to relish the moisture underneath your body. Your mind felt much more at ease after taking a long walk around town and a free light meal offered by the raven-haired. Itachi sat down beside you, gazing over the enclosed area of the park near your home, resisting the urge to also lie down and lend himself some decent rest. His workaholic nature would never allow such things to happen, and his rationality knew better after what would roll out when he'd get too close to you, physically. “About Izumi sneaking into your office last night, I have two possible conjectures.”

“I have three, though,” you blurted. “But you go first.”

“Oh,” he remarked with amusement. “One, Izumi might be trying to see some important documents that you have inside. Two, she might be meeting up with someone.”

“Three, she might be setting up traps, dropping counterfeit evidence to throw us off if something happens in the future, who knows what she could do spending fifteen minutes inside.” You were definitely speaking aloud. “But number one can be ruled out. My Secretary already had all the important documents sent before he left. And I took off after him…”

“Continue,” he urged, mentally making a note that you just trailed off suddenly as if something rang in your head.

“The window,” you sat up from the grass and turned to face Itachi, “I double-checked that all windows and doors were locked before leaving.” You could feel your breathing picking up its pace, and he could see your pupils dilating. Agitatedly, you swiped a hand across your face, “But when I came, the window in the back was open. Izumi, she came straight for that one without scouting around to find an entrance. It was like…”

“It was like she knew.” He finished the sentence for you and gave you a meaningful glance.

“There are ten people who work at and know the office building, including me.” You drummed your fingers on your thigh. “Yesterday, three were out on missions and the guard asked for a leave. That leaves six left, including me and my Secretary, so four left.” You searched for his eyes. “Out of the four, two are recently hired, just this month, and the other two are elders, Advisors who worked for my parents as well.”

“I see,” he muttered.

“Now that I remember.” You straightened your back, lowering your voice. “The office was lit before Izumi entered.”

“That leaves conjecture two the most likely.”

“Right,” you nodded, “she was meeting up with someone.”

“And that person works in your office building.” Itachi concluded, “Keep your friends close and enemies closer. Be careful.”

“All right.” You grinned at his ancient saying and got up from the ground. It was getting darker, faster than you expected. “I’ll head home, have a good evening.”

Itachi waved you off, seeing your back disappear when you took a turn around the corner, grimacing at the eerie feeling sinking in his stomach. Nothing could happen, right?

You dug through your bag, trying to find the unfinished documents that you swore you shoved inside before leaving your office earlier. The dang thing was supposed to be completed today and you promised your Secretary that you would finish them at home, having it ready to go for tomorrow’s meeting at eight in the morning. You stooped lower to rummage through your bag and heaved a sigh when realization dawned upon your poor self that you never really brought those documents with you. Your face scowled at the thought of having to make your way back to the office instead of enjoying your time in a warm bath. But your feet moved regardless, heavy steps trailing on the streets until you stopped in front of the bleak building, inserting the key and opening the door absentmindedly.

The hallway was pitch-black, and you were just about to switch on the lights when you heard voices from inside. You halted, and uneasiness crept upon your spine. It just occurred to you that you did not see the guard on your way in—the first red flag. The last time you checked, one hour already passed the time office hours were supposed to end—the second red flag. You quietly closed the door behind and made your way across the hallway, back flat against the cold wall. The voices became more and more clear the closer you got to the stairs leading up to the second floor. Your office—the third red flag. A woman was talking, then occasionally chimed in by a deep, raspy voice. Two people, you made a note to yourself before advancing up the stairs to get a hold of their conversation. You carefully laid your steps and made your way up, jumping over the railing to land, without making any sound, in the corner of the second floor.

As expected, the lights in your office were on with two shadows casting on the ground. You steadied your breath, deriving an escape plan in case something would happen. Never did you know when you twisted your upper body around, trying to see inside the room, a fist hit the junction between the back of your head and neck, jostling you forward. Three? Before you could react, something pointy sunk into your neck and your vision blurred, knees dropping to the floorboard with a loud thud.

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @darling-imobsessed @animepickle7 @simping-master-69 @tirzamisu @the-tiniest-one @greenshirtimagines @icedemon1314 @madaraswittleslut @saturn-falls @adeards @mistymuii @kishimoto-did-us-dirty @oneofsummersday @iluvjessemac @baby320 @byyalady @rory-cakes @brnel58 @arkem1s @aireenmoon @blyanyan @yesperonon @nats-the-geek @milkshake4800 @dramaticq @sonja3 @sharingangirl @melovehiddlestan @sakinotfound @shuxjodie @luvjaclyn @smutteedreams @simp-38 @starryeyedkoko @gothicgangster @christiansdior @ireallyhateithere2 @feitanett @bobalix @uchihaprince @6-022-10-23 @foggyperfectiondragon @gokm1023 @professionalsimp330

#itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #uchiha itachi x reader #itachi x you #uchiha itachi x you #uchiha itachi x y/n #itachi uchiha imagines #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi angst #itachi #itachi uchiha #itachi uchiha x you #first snow #itachi imagines #itachi fluff

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vecnuthy · 2 years

Text

Snake Bites

Eddie and his partner/reader hit up the local piercing parlor for some additions. Eddie with snake bites. Eddie with snake bites!!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (use of "she" literally just once)

Language, slight suggestive language, use of "babe," bit of fluff

Notes: Indiana didn't legalize tattooing until the early 90s, set in late 80s, could be AU Eddie or Eddie survived, but no mention of UD

Eddie loved to splurge every now and then on a new tattoo after saving for a while. He would pick from a whole slew of rough sketches that he had done over the years, ready to go to give to artists as a foundation to build a design from.

Tattoos, while you adored them on people, weren't your body modification of choice. You preferred piercings, which gave you a broad range of customization that better-appealed to you. You had plans to add to your ears, especially, dreaming about the stacks you would curate, and adding a nose ring to the mix was another goal, but god, the healing time for piercings could be a bitch, and you were just really getting started.

Piercings seemed to get more fashionable in general in the late 80s, which definitely worked in your favor. The trend booming among celebrities had trickled down to the common folk, and now Hawkins had its own piercing studio that definitely didn't have an underground tattoo parlor in the back, absolutely not. Your birthday was coming up, and you decided to take the leap and start adding more as a gift to yourself. The poster on the wall listed the names and placings, and looking at it both helped and hindered you. You wanted it all, if you were being honest with yourself, but you only had a budget to stick to. You settled on an orbital conch on your left and a helix on the right with dreams of another of both and a tragus joining them in the future. And you got the nose ring.

You sat on the padded chair and held up the mirror, admiring the latest additions on your nose and your (very angry and bloodshot) ears.

"Hey babe, look," Eddie said excitedly, appearing from nowhere by your side. The underside of his forearm materialized in front of your eyes to reveal his fresh tattoo, a sensibly-sized and updated version of the Hellfire demon head he had drawn all of those years ago.

"Oh wow, they did a really good job!" you praised, admiring the line work and how intensely the red and yellow popped against the black on the fresh ink. "Demon on the forearm, I love it. Do you like how they di--" You froze when you looked up at him and saw those.

"Eddie!" you gasped out quietly, eyes big.

His face stretched into that signature cheeky grin, which made him wince. "That's gonna be fun to deal with," he remarked dryly with his fingers touching below his mouth. He was visibly pleased, though.

Your brain was buzzing as you took in the sight of the two pieces of rounded metal placed perfectly under both sides of his plump bottom lip.

"You're gonna catch a fly like that," he said, voice low and playful as he mocked how your mouth was hanging open.

"Ohh, oh no," you laughed out, taking in how he looked. "No, this is going to be a problem."

His nose scrunched as he said in faux disbelief, "What, you don't the snake bites?"

Your still-opened mouth stretched into a wide smile, your glinting eyes snapping to his. "Babe."

"Ohhh, she does like them."

You did. A lot.

"Do they hurt?"

"A little pinchy," he brushed off. "What about yours? I've gotta say, that nose ring suits you."

You smiled at him, saying, "Stingy, especially the helix. I kind of want to add a septum to the mix now, but I think I'll save up a little more for it..." You trailed off when your gaze landed back on his lips. "What's the heal time?" Your voice was casual as you stood up. Too casual. He knew that play.

"Four to six weeks, supposedly," smirking again. His fingers found yours when you moved in close.

"Mmm.....that's a shame," you murmured before brushing a feather light kiss on his lips.

"So Mr. Munson, make sure to stick wi -- oh 'm sorry," the body piercer said, averting his gaze when he came on the scene. Your knuckles brushed under your nose bashfully and you pivoted from Eddie, who was completely unfazed, if not slightly amused by the intrusion.

"Soft foods and come back in a month or so for shorter bars?"

"Yep, and, um....be sure to keep the area clean."

Eddie snorted. You mouthed oh my god and shifted awkwardly.

"If you -- either of you have any issues, just come back by. Greg will have care pamphlets and cleaning solution for you guys at the counter."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it," Eddie said, shaking the guy's hand, shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you!" you added, which he acknowledged with a nod before disappearing into the back of the store.

Eddie snorted out a couple more chuckles, wrapping you in a hug and kissing the top of your head before he realized what he was doing. He winced and hissed out, "Shit!" at the contact. "Yeah, this is gonna be a problem."

"Just wait until you think about the extent of how much of a problem they're gonna be."

He was lost in thought as you approached the counter, and he shot you a panicked look as the two of you paid. There it is, you thought and tried not to laugh when you took the bag of supplies from Greg and headed out the door.

"I fucked up," he whined out as soon as the door closed. You let the laugh loose and slipped your hand into his back pocket as you walked down the sidewalk back to the van.

"Fucked me up more like it, but look at me." He obliged. God he looked good with them. "No. No, you really didn't. Keeping them clean and unbothered, though," you laughed, "is going to be trying, to say the least, because I really just want to tackle you right now."

Eddie laughed at that, repeating "unbothered" derisively, which earned him a pinch from you through the thin material of his back pocket. He jerked forward with "Hey, buy me dinner first" and glittering eyes. "Actually, how about a stop at the diner to kick off this soft food diet of mine with a milkshake?"

"Love it, but you have to sit next to me. I can't look at you right now."

He didn't comply, of course. You should've known -- you did know better, and now there he was sitting across from you in all his Eddie Munson with snake bites glory, his arm thrown over the back of the booth for added effect. He spent the stay basking in a great deal of enjoyment at how you struggled not to smile every time you glanced at him and how the color on your cheeks bloomed when you looked away shyly.

"Babe, what are you going to do when I get little hoops for them?" he chuckled out as he pulled the straw out of his thick milkshake and stuck the bottom of it in his mouth.

A wave of cold then hot rippled through you at the thought and at the sight of what he was doing to that stupid straw. "You'll be healed by then and it'll be fair game."

His face morphed into that devilish grin that drove you insane, and you couldn't help but groan and lean your face into your hand. That contact, however, gave you a sudden, very rude reminder of the fresh addition to your nose, making you gasp out and plead, "Shit. What have we done?"

"What have we done!" he repeated dramatically in his Dungeon Master voice with his arms raised and fingers curled in the air. You laughed into your milkshake and kicked his shoe playfully under the table. "Fair game, huh?" he asked.

You cocked an eyebrow with a pointed look.

"'M looking forward to that." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Shit, me too," you said under your breath, looking off. Judging by the sound of his laugh, he definitely heard you.

#literally nobody asked for this but i can't stop thinking about eddie munson with snake bites #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson piercings #eddie munson tattoos #fic #snakebites

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nobully · 1 year

Note

RESTRICTED, for shenanigans

a comprehensive list of scenarios | 60. RESTRICTED : for both muses to sneak into someplace they’re not supposed to be.

Wang Yi hisses as the foot of the man above him digs into his shoulder.

' Ouch! Watch your heel. '

' You know breaking and entering is illegal, right? '

A suspicious giggle sounds from above him as Break clamors onto the wall. "So is blackmail."

' Hey, you blackmailed me first! ' And then Wang Yi bites back a yelp as paws dig into his shirt before their four-footed owner leaps onto the ledge besides his companion.

【The fact that he was able to blackmail you at all reflects poorly on you, Host.】

【A real villain would've avoided such obvious pitfalls.】

' A "real villain" just follows the script, ' Wang Yi retorts before joining them both. ' Xerxes, what do you see? '

"Not a thing." Perched contentedly on the wall, the resident mastermind of their harebrained scheme feels curiously unconcerned as he enjoys the night breeze.

' Hahah, very funny. ' But all right, it is pretty dark. ' What about you, Sao Ling? '

【No guards here, if that's what you're wondering. You're both in the clear and I can see the party on the lawn to our west.】

' This is still completely stupid. '

"Will your cat," Break remarks, with knowing emphasis on the last word, "not leave evidence behind if he joins us?"

' He exists on like, a separate plane or something, ' Wang Yi waves airily. ' Anyways, enough talk. Let's just get your doll and get out. ' He jumps down first, landing on some soft grass before turning to spread open his arms for Break. ' Do you need me to catch y— '

The next second Break descends soundlessly by his side, cane held out to maintain his balance as it tip brushes just shy of Wang Yi's ear. "This way," he adds and starts traversing across the lawn, ignoring the eyeroll that Wang Yi shoots behind his back.

Yeah, yeah. I'd like to see you try the same trick twice. Sao Ling lands on his shoulder before Wang Yi trails after Break, muffling his footsteps as much as possible while wondering how the guy manages to walk like a ninja with a gait like that.

Operation: Night at the Musuem had begun.

***

The story went like this: earlier that day Xerxes Break, connoisseur of fine art (since when, Wang Yi grumbles and doesn’t get an answer back) had been enjoying a pleasant stroll through the hallowed halls of Tempus Museum when the closing announcement went off. Like any good Spirale citizen (Wang Yi snorts at that, and Break offers him a napkin that makes him snort some more), he had left with the crowd out the lobby only to discover his dear Emily missing from his shoulder! Alas, the museum had closed by then and the guards refused him entry, so he was coming back at night to recover his forgotten friend.

‘ You can’t wait until tomorrow to ask Lost and Found? ’ Wang Yi asked when the sorry tale finished.

Break nobly set down the linzer cookie he was eating, though the effect was marred by the crumbs around his lips. “And sleep knowing Emily’s alone in that house of horrors?”

‘ I thought you said it was an art museum. She should be right at home if she’s as old as you… ’

“In no century does a man win approval for abandoning a lady after curfew hours, especially when she's a dear friend.”

Wang Yi had suggested going to the police, which Break had flat-out refused for something so trivial. Then Break had asked him to come along, which Wang Yi rejected in turn.

"Well, I could always ask Nicolette..." Break mused, resting his chin against his sleeve as he listened to the telltale sputter of the man across the table.

' She's busy, ' Wang Yi shook his head. Although Nicolette hadn't told him all the details, he heard she was having lots of fun wrecking havoc on the guys that had tried to dump them in the ocean once upon a time. Like hell he’d stop her now.

"I'm sure I could convince her. After all, there's that note you wrote with the candy—"

' Hey! ' Wang Yi barked back. ' Medical reports! Hard copies and digital! '

The two of them met gazes across the table (and really, reflected Wang Yi, it was annoying how Break had the habit of looking through you even when he was staring at you) before both fell back in their seats.

"Seven-thirty sharp," Break began, even as Wang Yi finished, ' And not a word. '

***

Sneaking into Tempus Museum at night was basically a death wish, but lucky for them some rich locals from Fibonacci were holding an Art Appreciation Party that night in the front lawn. More importantly, the curator had cleared them to have a limited "night tour" of the premises, albeit with close supervision.

' This is assault, ' Wang Yi sighed as they subdued two guests with his special cocktail of knockout drugs and dragged them under some bushes.

' I mean, all this work and for what? You don't even know if you'll find her, ' he added as they joined the rest of the guests while Sao Ling stayed behind to keep an eye on the bodies.

' I could be having a bath by now. I could've had two baths, ' he went on after brainwashing their mini tour group into accepting them and lining up to enter the museum.

Break was content to stay silent through most of these tirades, his other senses busy keeping tabs on their location where his eyes fell short. He made sure that Wang Yi was nearby at all times (not particularly difficult, with how much noise he made) and ended up linking his arm firmly with his own as they finally stepped inside the building. He heard more than saw Wang Yi stiffen unnaturally and turned towards him when the man leaned in to whisper by his ear.

' Uh, Xerxes? '

"Yes?"

' You never said the museum was sentient? '

***

' We should leave, ' Wang Yi muttered after the tour guide had taken them down one hallway while advising them to "look and not touch, and certainly don't maintain eye contact!" ' I can sense malicious intent from landscape paintings. How do they even feel things? They don't like us—I sure as hell don't like them— '

"And how exactly would we leave?" Break muttered back irritably. "You said so yourself—these hallways keep going on with no sense of logic or direction."

' Well, how'd you leave in the daytime? '

"I followed the crowd." That was at least a partial lie, but it was laughable for a blind man to go admire works of art in the first place. He only came out of curiosity, perhaps because a certain someone's roommates had mentioned about that person applying for a position here. "And none of these artworks were moving while the sun was up."

' No wonder they made a big deal just for a night tour. Stupid haunted art gallery—shit, that statue just glared at me. '

"It'd be more helpful," Break muttered, "If you could describe what you were seeing instead of dumping your feelings on me like a personal diary."

' Can't you see for yourself? ' Wang Yi shot back.

"I'm busy sensing for Emily," Break lied easily, "and I have severe night blindness." Understatement of the evening.

' No wonder you dragged me with you... ' Wang Yi muttered, but switched to describing each freak work of art as they passed them.

It wasn't until they made their way to the culinary courtyard and the familiar smell of sugar assailed Break's nostrils that Wang Yi stopped his narration with a start.

"What is it?" Break frowned.

' That's her, isn't it? Sitting next to the cupcakes. ' Wang Yi nudged him. ' Uhh, what do your "senses" tell you? '

That was enough context to be obvious. Immediately, Break called upon Mad Hatter for the fourth time that day to augment his vision for five precious minutes, and as expected—there was Emily, sitting in some sort of tea party setup with giant cupcakes half her size.

"It's her," he confirmed, and before Wang Yi could say so what's the plan, he had already broken out of the group to swipe her from her doll-sized seat.

"Took you long enough," Emily scolded as soon as she was back on his shoulder, soothing some of the rattled nerves he'd been nursing for the entire tour. Too many things had gone beyond his calculations today—which wasn't exactly his fault but rankled all the same when he already had so little under control.

"Excuse me!" the tour guide exclaimed while the rest of the guests tittered in scandalized whispers and now—now Break heard Mad Hatter telling him about them too, dressed to the nines in their ridiculous outfits, jewelry, and make-up, the Chain chattering a mile a minute as if to make up for the hours of suppressed silence he'd buried it under for this night, this moment.

' It's fine! ' That was Wang Yi—dressed the plainest of them all in just a jacket and pants. ' He just really likes sweets, haha! Nothing wrong there, right? I'll get him— ' He moved in and grabbed Break's arm, instantly dropping his voice to more urgent tones. ' What the hell Xerxes, you didn't have to make a scene? It's not like I can brainwash them indefinitely?! '

Break gripped him back, feeling the residual warmth from the place where he'd been hugging Wang Yi's forearm for the past 18 minutes, and grinned. "How much time do you have left on your daily limit?"

Wang Yi checked his phone timer and grimaced. ' 12 minutes and 42 seconds? '

"Then tell them to turn a blind eye." The joke was lost to everyone except him, so it was only Emily who cackled in response. "I'll take care of getting us out."

' What? But you—ugh, fine! ' Wang Yi broke free again, running back to the group even as the tour guide started coming over to demand answers.

"Just what is the matter with you two—"

' All of you saw nothing and will keep seeing nothing until we're gone, ' Wang Yi snapped back, eyes glowing red, and the entire group froze on command. The tour guide paused, then turned stiffly back to resume her task.

"Next on the itinerary, we'll be working our way to my favorite, the Decorated Forge and its weapons..."

' Okay okay, what now? ' Wang Yi ran back, only to see Break staring at the sky. He followed his gaze and saw the beautiful glass dome of the semi-outdoor area. ' Wait, you're not... '

"We might as well go both ways," Break muttered before unsheathing his cane. "Breaking and exiting shouldn't be too different."

' What the f—?! '

Glass shattered.

***

With no better options, they ran.

Midway through fleeing across the lawn, Break tripped, sending Wang Yi stumbling after him. The latter recovered first, climbing to his knees while alarm bells rang off in the museum behind them. Shit, they were screwed if they were caught.

' Xerxes, we need to move,' he hissed, grabbing the man (and the doll that had fallen by his side) and pulling him upright. ' C'mon, just until we get out of here... '

By some miracle they rendezvoused with Sao Ling while avoiding the patrols and then it was back to scaling the wall, Wang Yi pushing Break most of the way since the guy was having trouble climbing. Fortunately, most of security seemed preoccupied with checking whether anything was stolen and didn't track them down immediately.

【I managed to drag the bodies of your victims to a convenient spot,】 Sao Ling commented once they were out and hurrying down the streets. 【They should serve as a good distraction for the guards.】

' Seriously, you couldn't just wait 'til we finished the tour normally? ' Wang Yi complained while supporting Break with one arm. ' I could've—I don't know, brainwashed them first while you slipped her in your coat or something? '

Break didn't reply, but Emily's disparaging remarks were enough to state what she thought of that plan.

' Yeah fine, whatever, at least we made it out—whoa, easy there! ' Wang Yi caught Break as he suddenly slumped again. ' You okay? '

"It's fine—just need a minute—catch my breath."

Wang Yi doubted that, but helped Break to a sitting position on the sidewalk so he was leaning against someone's fence. Then his phone timer went off, so he had to deal with that before Sao Ling nudged at his heels.

【Wang Yi, they've found us.】

Hearing footsteps approach, Wang Yi quickly took something from his jacket before turning around, shielding Break with his body.

Museum guards. Two of them, one with a torchlight and the other peering at them behind square-shaped spectacles.

"Excuse me," Spectacles spoke first. "Were you part of the Art Appreciation tour group tonight? There was an incident..."

' What art group? ' Wang Yi blinked back innocently.

The guard was unmoved. "Members of the group reported two of their party missing. It's suspected they might have come to harm or were involved in foul play...one of them was a male with pink hair and green eyes."

Wang Yi shrugged. ' I was just taking a walk. With my cat, ' he added, as Sao Ling went to nuzzle around his legs.

"And who else, may I ask?" the guard pressed, trying to see behind him. "For example, a gentleman with white hair and red eyes?"

' Ahaha, that's a little embarrassing, but... ' Wang Yi bent down to pick up the slumped figure before turning back with a sheepish smile. ' It's my niece Wen Wen. She got so tired walking that she fell asleep, so I was about to carry her home. '

The guards stared. Nestled in Wang Yi's arms was an angelic little girl with long blond hair, sleeping soundly against his chest. Although her complexion seemed a bit pale, she was every inch as real as them and hugging a silly cloth doll to herself.

' It's a cold night, ' Wang Yi went on. ' I should get her inside. '

The guard with a torchlight coughed and side-eyed his partner. "Wouldn't do for the girl to catch a chill."

Spectacles narrowed his eyes, but finally relented. "Indeed. Please do inform us if you see any suspicious figures about. It's dangerous tonight, so hurry back."

' Right, of course. Thanks for your hard work! Good night! ' Wang Yi beamed at them before turning to walk away. He managed to get to the end of the block and turn the corner before collapsing to his knees behind some bushes.

Fuck it Xerxes, why are you so heavy unconscious?!

【Your acting wasn't bad,】 Sao Ling observed while resting a paw on his thigh. He watched with interest as the effects of the magic wig wore off, revealing the usual Break, only with long blond hair. 【The adjustments I made on the wig were successful, too. How's he doing?】

' Who knows? Does a dying man have days where he's less dead? ' Wang Yi snapped back. Still, his hands felt Break's forehead before wiping excess sweat off his face. ' Doesn't feel like fever...and he's not spitting up blood this time, so that's good I guess? I probably should get him indoors for real, though. '

He'd rather take Break to a hospital, but after what Oz said about drugs not mixing with their bodies it...probably wasn't the best idea.

【The condos aren't too far from here,】 Sao Ling added. 【I can lead the way.】

' All right, sure, ' Wang Yi agreed before looking aghast at the man in his lap. ' Wait...how far are they exactly?'

【Five blocks.】

' ...I'm gonna die. '

***

Early next morning, Xerxes Break woke up in an unfamiliar bed of an unfamiliar room, Emily resting by his pillow, and spotted a very familiar, fully-dressed pink-haired man drooling senseless on the carpet beside him.

#schleckermaul #drabbles;#had to go out on a limb for this b/c i wasn't here for that event but the setting was too interesting to pass up...#definitely tons of creative liberties taken ahhhhh & time skips so it didn't get too long well i mean LONGER jfjfj #why DID break not wait for lost & found? i...i don't know either haha #Did some edits to fit his unlocks hope it reads ok #answered;

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

STAFF REQUEST TIME! STAFF REQUEST TIME! STAFF REQUEST TIME!

Sam, Crewel and Crowley headcanons in a relationship with a flirty adult reader please? Up to you if you want the reader to also work at NRC or not!

I bingeread your NRC staff works and started liking them because of your blog. Thank you for the new biases Raven!

I’m happy to hear you like my staff works ^^ I don’t get as many of them compared to the main ensemble boys, but it’s fun to change things up every now and again~

I already wrote some headcanons for Crewel and Crowley dating a staff member self insert, so for this request, the self insert is not necessarily a coworker.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Sam has come across all kinds of strange folks in his dealings as a merchant, so he handles your flirtations with ease. It’s hard to get that winning smile of his to falter or give way to a blush, even when you have the element of surprise on your side.

Sam’s great at reciprocating, too! He has a very casual and laidback way of flirting—so much so that it doesn’t occur to you that he has until you’re thinking back on it. “So you’ve come to say hello, Little Demon? I’m honored! Come take a look at my stock—and please, take your time! I wouldn’t mind keeping your company, even when the clock strikes midnight.”

You scale down your flirting to something more manageable to match Sam’s energy. A smile, a wave, a wink, blowing a kiss... simple little gestures like that mean just as much to him as grand ones do.

Drop by the Mystery Shop, and Sam will find other ways to be playful (without disrupting business too much, of course). Maybe he’ll toss a few candies into your shopping bag, or scribble a cute message on the back of a coupon before handing it off to you.

Sometimes your flirting doesn’t land quite right, or you hit an awkward snag in your delivery—but it never seems to bother Sam! He leaps right into the conversation to tactfully change the subject. Sam just has a way of making you feel at ease in spite of occasional slip-ups.

They say that love is a war... and with Crewel, that’s a very true statement. He’s quite competitive, so chances are that if you flirt with him, he’ll flirt right back in a quick-witted and aggressive manner.

Crewel likes being complimented as much as the next guy, but he especially enjoys it when you make mention of his looks. He spends a considerable amount of time grooming and dressing himself, so it’s nice to know that his efforts are being noticed by others (even if he already has the confidence to back up the mean looks he serves).

He tends to want to get the last word in, leaving you a blushing mess in the process. To Crewel, it’s a matter of pride that he comes out on top, so you’d better be prepared for a barrage of sweet nothings!

In private, Crewel likes to use his pointer to guide your eyes. He’ll feather it along the underside of your chin, tilting your face to meet his. You’ll respond with a defiant look and perhaps a witty remark to tease him—and so continues the game of cat and mouse.

“Hmm. I like that fiery look on you, pet. Still... It looks as though you’ll need more training, seeing as you continue to bite the hand that feeds you,” he smirks. “I’ll soon have you heeling.”

Crowley readily soaks up all the praise you pile onto him like a sponge. He enjoys being flirted with, as it really strokes his (already quite large) ego and greatly validates him.

Crowley will nod along as you extol his virtues, even encouraging you to continue talking him up. “Ohoh, you’re quite right, (Y/N)-san! I am so very, very, kind! Please, do tell me more about how exemplary of a headmaster I am!”

It’s easy to tell when this old crow’s pleased or embarrassed with a particular remark, despite his mask. The lower half of his face turns from pasty white to bright pink!

He’s not as good at returning the flirtations as he is at receiving them. Sure, Crowley can say nice things about you when he wants to, but he’s not very smooth about it. Usually he just rambles on and on until he gets sidetracked.

Though Crowley’s quite silly in expressing his affection, he’s 100% earnest! You can tell he’s (clumsily) speaking from the heart while running his talons through your hair and looking at you tenderly (as he warbles about Great Seven knows what).

#twst x reader #Mr. S x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #Sam x Reader #Sam #Mr. S #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #curiouser and curiouser #Reader #self insert #NRC Staff #Mister S

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animatedrapture · 3 years

Text

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

#sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #;commish

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Poker Face

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader thought she could get away with speaking her desires out loud as long as they were in a different language. Turns out, someone could understand her.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my fourth fic for my 1250 follower celebration!! I got this request from @imagining-in-the-margins and if you want to see the original request go checkout my follower celebration Masterlist! I do not speak Russian, nor do I know someone who does so I made everything in italics as if they were speaking in Russian! Hope y’all enjoy reading and requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Public sex (who’s surprised lmao), Reader is very unprofessional and probably should be fired lmao, Dom Spencer with hints of Sub Spencer in the future (dont worry all my Sub Spencer lovers I’ve got more coming for that soon!), Nickname use: Princess, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral sex (M receiving),Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.1k

Words in italics are in Russian

There was no harm in voicing my thoughts I thought to myself, in a different language, Russian specifically. Especially since the only one that could understand me wasn’t near me at the moment nor would she probably bat an eye at a slightly risqué remark. Emily was snuggled up at the other end of the jet, her headphones in both of her ears. They would plug up any sound around her preventing her from translating the lusty thought that sat on my lips.

If I said my thoughts in Russian, no one would be able to catch how much I wanted Spencer’s fingers inside me. They were long, obviously dexterous- I knew they’d be able to reach places inside me that I couldn’t reach myself. I couldn’t say these thoughts out loud, in English at least,

I didn’t want Spencer to ever know. But, I wanted to get the thoughts swirling in my head off my chest, the only way to do that without embarrassment was to say it in a way that no one here would be able to understand.

As Spencer shuffled with ease and delt the cards out with his dexterous fingers my lusty thoughts were too pressing for my lips to be able to contain. So I spoke quickly with my voice slightly lowered, maybe Spencer and the people around me would miss my transition into a different language, “I wished you would use those fingers on me instead, preferably inside of me.”

Spencer blinked back at me, obviously confused by my words.

“Sorry, just spaced out for a second, didn’t realize I had switched to Russian.” I giggled out, mostly because I was amazed that I had gotten away with it. I moved on quickly not wanting to linger on my ‘slip up’ any longer, plus I finally wanted to try and play against Spencer in a poker game, “Let’s see if your poker face is as good as everyone says it is, Spencer.”

—-

“Please, fuck me?” Over the course of my daring adventures I had become increasingly louder with my declarations. Last week I had commented about how much I wanted his cock in my mouth, of course in Russian and the week before that I had made my initial comment about how much I wanted his fingers inside me.

This one happened to be the loudest out of the three little sentences that seemed like innocent slips into another language to everyone else, but to me and only to me I was voicing my desires. Each time I did it a little rush of adrenaline sparked through me, no one besides Emily would be able to translate, who wasn’t with me in the file room. It was only Spencer and I in here right now, the rest of the team had gone home for the night.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that at the office, but if you asked me again somewhere else I’d do it.” He answered me back and in perfect Russian as well.

My entire being withered in embarrassment as soon as I had translated Spencer’s words, he understood me. He had understood all of what I had said, every last word. I should’ve remembered that he spoke Russian, we had a case where he spent the whole time translating, I couldn’t believe how idiotic I had been. I wanted the earth to swallow me up in that moment, just so I could escape Spencer’s piercing gaze. I couldn’t tell from his words or the look on his face what exactly he was feeling about my words, some profiler I was. He didn’t seem angry at least, maybe a bit bemused?

I shrank back a little more over fear if he was making fun of me or not. If I hadn’t been feeling so mortified I would’ve realized that Spencer wasn’t one to make fun of anyone, hindsight is 20/20 after all.

“Your poker face is spot on.” Was the only measly response that I could find myself to come up with, in an attempt to cover my embarrassment if only a little bit. A bunch of apologies also felt like they were crawling up my throat. I was absolutely mortified that I had been caught red handed, it was beyond unprofessional- I don’t think there was even a word for it. I had crossed the line so far I might as well have leaped over it, forgetting that it had ever existed.

“Well- I am from Vegas and before you start apologizing, you don’t need to. I liked it.”

Silence fell between us again after his smart remark. It was like we were sizing each other up, deciding what to do.

“You know- there’s no one here tonight, everyone’s gone home…” My confidence seemingly had come back after being knocked down a few pegs. I tapped my fingers absentmindedly on the large desk in the file room, my mind wandering to think about what it would be like if he bent me over it.

“That’s true.” A smirk was on his face now, one that I didn’t see often from him. I felt like I was going to be ensnared by him as soon as I took the time to blink.

Sure enough in a flash he had brought me into a bruising kiss that I got swallowed up by so fast there was no chance for me to try and win back any dominance.

In no time he had me bent over the table, my face pressed into the cool silver metal with my back arching up trying to reach his touch in any way I could. He gripped the waistband of my skirt roughly, but did not pull it down right away. He pulled my skirt down ever so slowly that by the time it reached the floor I impatiently wiggled to step out of it.

“You’re impatient.” He stated simply. I couldn’t deny it because of how true it was, all he’d have to do was pull my black lace panties off to see how wet I had become.

Instead I decided to lean in on how needy and impatient I was by whining out, “Spencerrr, please?”

“What do you want? Is it the same thing you said to me on the plane?” He pressed a kiss to my hip as he pulled down my panties just as slowly as he had done with my skirt, making me squirm again. Once I was bare from the waist down before him he paused for a moment to look at me; I withered a little under his gaze. I whined again when he carefully took his long fingers to just slightly part my folds before speaking again, “Tell me.”

I hesitated a little for a moment trying to focus to remember exactly what I had said on the plane. When I had collected my thoughts I whispered out in Russian, much more shaky than I had said on the plane, “I wished you would use those fingers on me instead, preferably inside of me.”

He was seemingly satisfied by my breathless reply, immediately beginning to work me up to orgasm. As he started to work his fingers inside of me he pressed his other hand down on the small of my back, a silent warning to not move.

I contemplated disobeying him, but when two of his fingers curled inside me to perfectly hit my g-spot it felt too good to lose.

“You gonna cum so quick for me, princess?” I got even wetter when he said princess like that, in Russian made me get even wetter than I already was. I was practically dripping down my thighs- and Spencer’s fingers.

“Yes! I’m gonna cum soon!” I gasped out and tried in vain to wriggle my hips to gain more friction, his hand on my back however was unyielding.

“Ask nicely and I might let you.”

“Please?!” I even asked it in Russian to make the plea possibly better in Spencer’s eyes. He didn’t respond right away, only picking up his pace faster. I tried to hold off my orgasm as best as I could, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold it. “Please, sir?”

“Alright, since you asked so nicely. You can cum, princess.”

I gave up the fight of holding off my orgasm, it immediately washed over me. My legs shook with the force of how hard and fast my orgasm shot through me, causing me to cry out as well.

Once I had come down from my high I slid off the table and down to my knees to repeat what I had said while at the round table a week ago “I want your cock in my mouth.”

He looked at me with wild eyes and obliged me, letting his cock free from his slacks. My mouth watered at the sight of him, his tip was bright red and dripping with precum. He had obviously not been the only one to be turned on.

As I grasped him in my hands and jerked him slowly I relished in the way he felt in my hand. He felt hot and heavy, I couldn’t wait to take him into my mouth.

I wrapped my lips around his tip, sucking lightly. Spencer’s head tipped backwards, his hands curled into fists as if he was trying to prevent himself from grabbing my hair to fuck my face. Little did he know that was exactly what I wanted.

When I guided one of his hands to the back of my hair to reassure him that I didn’t mind if he took control that way he almost let out a groan, but successfully stifled it by biting into his other fist. He then fisted my hair harder, wrapping his hand around so tight that tears prickled a bit in my eyes. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all, I enjoyed it.

I enjoyed it even more when he started to use his hand to guide my head up and down. He set the pace to the one he desired. It wasn’t too fast or hard, it was actually quite slow. He dragged out each of my movements and when my nose nuzzled at the base of his cock he had me stay there for a moment each time. Each time I gagged a little on him he let out an almost whine, it made me wonder whether or not he’d look good underneath me as well. Though I was thoroughly content with being underneath him at this time.

Even though I had already had one orgasm the tingling between my thighs was not satiated, looking up at Spencer’s blissed out face only served to make me even more turned on.

“Stop.” I blinked up at him like he had done so at me on the jet, confused. I pulled off of his cock, a slight pop echoed in the air. He then lifted me up onto the table with my legs wrapped around his waist before I could ask him why he wanted for me to stop.

“Now what was that last thing you said to me? I want you to ask me again. ” His cock was running up and down my folds teasing me. My head fell back and I moaned when he bumped my clit.

“Please, fuck me?” My breathless voice sounded wrecked already.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” As he slid into me my eyes rolled back into my head as he slid into me. His pace was faster this time than what he had done while fucking my face. I was squirming with overstimulation and my orgasm was going to come ridiculously fast. Spencer could sense it too and brought his hand down to my clit to bring me over my peak even faster.

“You can cum again, princess.” My second orgasm was much longer than my first. It sparked through me slowly, almost in waves that felt like they had multiple peaks.

He too, was not that far behind me. When he tried to pull out to probably cum all over the tops of my thighs I kept him locked in place with my legs around my waist and asked, “Cum inside me?”

He obliged me with a groan pumping into me a few more times before spilling inside me. We were both slick with sweat, making me wish for a shower. As soon as I got cleaned up that would be the first thing I’d be doing when I bolted home. Maybe I could bring Spencer along for another round, I could hear him speak Russian to me all day.

“I’ll go get something to clean you up.” He spoke softly as if he was afraid I’d break, you’d think after the way he had fucked me that he’d realized I was not so breakable. I’d have to fix that later. As I sat there with his cum dribbling down my thighs waiting for him to return , mixing with my own I knew that I’d never underestimate Spencer’s poker face again.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer:

@rainsong01

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #1250 follower celebration #1250 followers

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byorder-fanfic · 3 years

Text

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby)

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice.

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us."

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!"

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath.

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

#bonnie gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold fanfiction #bonnie gold fanfic #bonnie gold preference #bonnie gold fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders oc #Aberama Gold #tommy shelby #Arthur shelby

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iamwhoami · 3 years

Text

You Found Me (Chicago PD)

Chicago PD

Hailey Upton knows that her job is dangerous but never did she think that it could become dangerous for her girlfriend Y/N. Or at least she never hoped it would.

Warnings: Blood...kidnapping, all that jazz

Requested = Yes

The request asked for this to be long but I'm not exactly sure what constitutes as long so I'm just going to drag this on until I can't.

Obviously, you knew what Hailey's job was. You knew it was dangerous but the risk of Hailey's wellbeing and constantly having to worry about her when she went to work was easily outweighed by the pros of dating her.

It was Hailey Upton after all.

"Be safe okay," You whispered before pecking Hailey on her cheek on her way out.

"You too," Hailey replied and you chuckled.

"Please, I'm a doctor, what's the worst that could happen," You smiled.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, "Don't jinx yourself."

You only shook your head in response, giving Hailey another kiss on the lips on her way out the door.

"I love you," You called and grinned as you leaned your head against the frame of the door, watching Hailey walk down the hall.

~~~

"Y/N, there's a patient in four waiting," Maggie told you the moment you walked into the ED.

"I'll be there in a moment," You replied as you fumbled through your bag, "I think I left my hospital ID in my car."

Maggie only shot you a look, "Be quick about it."

You had all intentions of being quick. It was a trip to the car, a grab from the glove department, a trip back to the ED.

That was it.

Or at least, that was all that it was supposed to be.

You felt something was wrong the moment you stepped foot out of the ED but you told yourself that you were just being paranoid. Hailey tried to keep her work as separate as possible from you but that didn't mean that you were completely oblivious to some of her cases.

You told yourself that the gruesome details of Hailey's cases were just playing with your mind and kept walking.

You should have trusted your instincts though. You should have listened to the tiny voice in your head (the one that sounded a lot like Hailey) and just turned around and head back to the

But you didn't, and you were going to regret it.

The last thing you remembered was reaching in through the passenger door to open the glove box when you felt a heavy blow to the back of your head.

Then nothing.

~~~

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows when the patient that you were supposed to be seeing complained about how long she had been waiting for a doctor.

"Hey...Nat," Maggie handed the tablet over, "Y/N was supposed to cover this one once she got her ID but the patient's still waiting. You haven't seen her have you?"

Natalie shook her head, "No, I haven't. Sorry..."

Maggie only nodded while Dr. Manning went into the room. Something wasn't right. You weren't one to just completely forget about a patient. If anything, you were the opposite.

Slightly worried, Maggie decided to check where you usually parked the car. Leaving Doris in charge of the ED for the few minutes that she would be gone, Maggie hurried out to the parking lot.

She was confused when she saw that your parking space was empty. You always parked there. Everyone at the hospital knew that it was your spot.

Completely bewildered, Maggie walked closer to the parking spot, her eyes going wide when she saw something on the pavement.

Blood.

~~~

You groaned as you slowly came back to consciousness. Your head hurt like hell but when you tried to reach up to touch it, you realized that your wrists were actually bound together.

As your vision cleared, you noticed just how dark your surroundings were and immediately jumped to the conclusion that you were in a warehouse.

Sure, you totally could have been somewhere else but it seemed like all of the victims who were held captive in Hailey's cases were kept in a warehouse sort of building.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the dire circumstances. Someone would have noticed that you didn't return to the hospital and the police would find you soon.

And if it was Hailey and Intelligence looking for you, then you would be back in Hailey's arms in no time.

That's what you kept telling yourself.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could begin to make out details of your captivity.

Your hands were bound behind your back but your ankles weren't tied whatsoever. You knew better than to struggle against your restraints but you couldn't help but try anyways, sighing when you only ended up tightening them.

Surprisingly, you were alone and so you took the chance to stumble onto your feet as best as you could without the use of your arms and scout out the area.

Maybe your kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you an exit.

Your heart racing, you let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that panic wasn't going to help and began walking around the perimeter of the space.

~~~

"Don't even think about taking me off the case," Hailey deadpanned the moment the door to Voight's office closed.

"You really think it's a good idea for you to be working right now?" Voight raised an eyebrow, "Y/N is your girlfriend!"

Hailey pursed her lips, "I'm aware of that."

"Hailey..." Voight's voice was strangely gentle.

"No," Hailey shook her head stubbornly, "I'm not going to just sit around and wait for someone to bring Y/N back to me and every moment you waste trying to talk me out of this is time wasted on Y/N."

Voight and Hailey both knew that if Voight did bench her, she was still going to search for you, even if it meant going against her sergeant's orders.

"Fine," Voight gruffly agreed, "Go help Halstead go through your past cases. Anyone who might use Y/N as revenge on you."

Hailey gave a short nod and without another word, left the office.

Truthfully, she hadn't processed anything whatsoever, but you were out there somewhere, definitely hurt and that's all that she needed to know.

Of course, she was worried. Worried was an understatement, and once in a while, she'd catch herself thinking about the worst outcomes but stop before it got too far.

She had to stay focused on the task at hand which was to bring you home to her.

This was not the moment to break down.

~~~

You walked loop after loop around the space until your head couldn't take it anymore and you crumbled to the ground.

While walking, you had noticed a steel door but there was no way you were getting through it. Especially not with your hands tied.

Lying on the cold concrete floor, you couldn't help but start to think of worst-case scenarios. What if they never found you? What if you died before they got here? What if you never saw Hailey again?

Your thoughts were interrupted though by the sound of footsteps echoing towards the door.

You felt your heart drop and your entire body tense. Was this your kidnapper?

The door suddenly swung open and revealed two men, one significantly taller than the other.

"Well...looks like our doctor here has a little boo-boo," The shorter one snickered at your limp body sprawled on the ground.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you would regret later.

"I can see why the detective fell in love with her," The taller one joined in, a smirk on his face, "She's quite the catch."

The two men had both crouched down in front of you now and you couldn't help but spit out a remark.

"Fuck off."

"Oh, would you look at that," The tall man smiled sickly, "She's feisty too...just like our detective friend..."

A sudden rush of panic flowed through you as you came up with the theory that they had Hailey too.

"Oh don't worry about her," The shorter man caressed your cheek, making you flinch slightly, "It's much more fun watching her spiral from afar...speaking of fun...I think it's about time we made a call."

Before you could say anything else, the two men got up and left the room and you let out a breath. Besides your head wound, you were uninjured so far and if they were calling Hailey, then it would just give them more clues to who the men were and where you were.

Despite the fear coursing through your veins, you still tried to stay positive and so you just kept telling yourself that you would be out of here in no time.

~~~

Hailey's heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she answered her phone.

"Hello detective," A cold voice reached her ear.

Immediately, Hailey flagged the attention of the rest of Intelligence and put the call on speaker.

"You might have already found out that your girlfriend is gone..." The voice droned, "Such a shame, hopefully, she didn't leave you for another woman..."

"You better not hurt her," Hailey clenched her jaw, her stomach churning as she listened to the man's voice come through the phone.

The man laughed, "Who said I took her?"

"We're going to find her," Hailey said, "And we're going to find you."

"Don't be so confident about that," The man was clearly enjoying playing Hailey like this, "Let me loop you in detective, it isn't so fun to have someone take your loved one away from you is it?"

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but the call had already disconnected.

"I think I got something," Jay called out and held up a case folder, "We put a Jameson Greene away a few weeks ago. He's doing hard time and he has two brothers who he lived with...that could be what the caller was referring to when he talked about losing someone you love."

"Hey, look at this," Kim pointed to her screen, "I pulled up street cams and managed to catch Y/N's car...we lose it after a few streets but it is going into the area that Greene lived in with his brothers. Plus, there's plenty of old warehouses around that place."

Everyone turned to look at Voight who gave a nod.

"Suit up," He said and turned around, "I want Patrol on this as well. I want everyone looking for Y/N."

~~~

"Your detective sounded pretty sure that she was going to find you," The man stroked your hair and you wanted to puke with each touch.

"That's because she will," You managed to croak out. While you only had a head injury, it was still a head injury that also hadn't stopped bleeding and on top of that, you desperately needed water.

You needed Hailey.

"You sure about that sweetheart?" The sarcasm dripped in his voice and you fought the urge to spit in his face.

"Well, I know she isn't going to stop until she does so yes," You said through gritted teeth, "She will find me."

A smirk formed on the man's face, "We'll just have to wait and see won't we, princess?"

~~~

Everyone on the team could see that Hailey was beginning to spiral. After countless door-to-door and dead-end leads, they still hadn't found you and that was taking a toll on Hailey.

"Hey," Jay stopped her before they hit the next house, "You okay?"

"I'll feel better once we find Y/N," Hailey said through gritted teeth and pushed past Jay, continuing to walk.

Jay stepped in front of Hailey, "Look, maybe you should go home...take a breather."

"Absolutely not!" Hailey narrowed her eyes, "I'm not going home until I can bring her home with me."

Jay opened his mouth to press back but was interrupted by Atwater's voice calling out.

"We got something!"

~~~

It was beginning to become harder and harder to keep your eyes open and while you were a doctor, it didn't take a doctor to understand that this wasn't a good sign.

"If your detective girlfriend doesn't come soon I'm going to have to call her again," The man snickered, "Maybe I'll have to be more specific...I'll tell her to bring wine too."

You didn't have enough strength to find a comeback as you laid on the ground, your wrists still bound together.

"Princess..." The man's voice broke through your pain, "You better keep your eyes open princess."

"Don't call me that," You breathed out, wincing at how your head throbbed with each word.

The man hummed, "What should I call you then? Would you prefer darling?"

"Chicago PD!"

In an instant, the door flung open and you were suddenly yanked up onto your feet. Despite your semi-conscious state and fuzzy vision, you could still make out the members of Intelligence rushing towards you.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were struggling to say upright long enough for someone to get you away from your captor and the next you could see the wall speeding towards you.

You felt the side of your head smash into a hard surface but before you could register any pain, everything fell black.

~~~

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing that you felt was the pounding coming from your head. As your vision cleared though, you realized that you were in a hospital room.

You had been in hospital rooms plenty of times but it didn't take very long for you to notice that you were in this room as a doctor.

"Hey...you're awake."

You didn't need to see who the voice came from to know that it was Hailey. Slowly, you turned your head and were immediately met with those blue eyes.

"You look like hell," You hoarsely croaked out.

"Right back at you," Hailey tried to keep her tone teasing but you could tell that she was holding back a lot.

You spread your arms, "Come here."

Hailey took your offer immediately, melting into your embrace.

"I'm okay," You whispered, "See, I'm okay."

"I know..." Hailey mumbled into your neck, "I know you are. I know the doctors said you were going to be fine I just-"

A sob interrupted Hailey and she buried her face deeper into your neck while you rubbed her back soothingly.

"I told those men that you would find me," You smiled, "See...I'm right as always."

Hailey let out a watery laugh and sat back up so that she could see your face.

"I'm okay Hailey," You lowered your voice, "You found me...everything is going to be okay."

"You were the one kidnapped," Hailey shook her head, "I should be comforting you."

You reached out to take Hailey's hand, "Well, there's plenty time for that too..."

"I was so worried," Hailey rubbed her eyes, "I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we didn't find you."

"Hey...hey, look at me," You squeezed Hailey's hand, "That didn't happen. You did find me and I'm okay and we're going to be okay. It's going to be okay."

Hailey nodded, "I know...it's just..."

"It's just what?" You asked softly.

"I...I couldn't remember if I had told you that I loved you back this morning when I left," Hailey bit her lip, "What if we didn't find you? What was the last thing I told you?"

You breathed out, "Hailey...you don't have to worry about that. You found me. I know you love me. We're okay..."

"I-"

"Hailey," You cupped your hands on either side of her face, "Everything's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd imagines #hailey upton #hailey upton x female reader #hailey upton imagines #hailey upton x reader #hailey upton imagine

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Note

Solhwi prompt:

Sol A tries to set up a date between sol B and joonhwi after his court 'confession' (even though she is lowkey jealous) assuming he was talking about her and confusion ensues... And if you can use the following dialogue-

"Sol, it's you. It has always been you."

love's complicated.

Sol A's not jealous. She really isn't.

But what was this twisting, nerve wracking feeling that she feels every time she sees Sol B?

notes: prompted by @confusedsoulsramblings ! i had so much fun writing this, i had to add a small bonus at the end. i had no intention on making this so long, but i guess it’s my trait to make long fics. spelling, grammar and incorrect information will be taken responsible by me. thank you all for support, once again! let me know of more prompts, questions or your reviews! feedback and criticism very much appreciated! thank you all, once again for the endless love!!

words: 3000 words.

ao3

Sol shouldn't be any less shocked during Yeseul's trial. When Prosecutor Jin cornered Joon Hwi with his question, she turned to look at her roomie at the same time she did. Then, she saw Joon Hwi’s eyes trail nervously, fluttering between them both. Sol knew his answer from the look on his face.

It was never her to begin with.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. She expected it. Sol B was sophisticated, graceful and beautiful. She knew how all the freshmen would nickname her "Ice Princess.". Could anyone disagree? Furthermore, coming from a family of lawyers and prosecutors, who wouldn't love her? She was a dream child. She possessed both the brains and the beauty.

Joon Hwi was always open with his teasing and words. He loved teasing her over their first meeting at the bookstore. He loves visiting Byeol randomly, even when Sol isn't home. He often comments with sentences that could have secondary meanings, and was very much teased by Bokgi. Even though he infuriated her sometimes, she always smiled with him.

Sol felt special, if she was honest. She felt like the only girl that he had his eyes on. She couldn’t help but feel tingly inside and her heart blooming like flowers in spring. Yeseul spent hours convincing Sol that Joon Hwi likes her, and on some nights, she liked to fantasied to the thought of it.

Of course, it means nothing to her now.

Sol sits alone in the study room, huffing out a sigh. She ruffles her hair and buries her face into her sweater sleeves. She can't believe that she can't study due to Joon Hwi liking her roommate. She doesn't like the twisting feeling in her stomach, and she doesn't know what it's called, too.

Was she... jealous?

Sol shakes her head vigorously and slaps her face a couple of times. No, she thinks, and lets out a breathy laugh. She can’t be. As far as her feelings went, she never considered seeing Joon Hwi more than best friends. The chances of him liking her was held at a much higher percentage than her liking him, in Sol’s head.

But thinking back, she couldn’t deny her feelings anymore. She couldn’t bury her feelings any further, especially now that she has accidentally dug them up. Her snarky remarks, the way she acted with him, the burning feelings she felt whenever someone spoke bad of him, her smiles that she would sometimes save for him.

Maybe, she does had feelings for this second round judicial exam passer.

But at the same time, she felt wrong. Her roomie was oh, so obviously in love with Joon Hwi, harbouring such toxic feelings felt wrong. It felt backstabbing and so betraying. She couldn’t be jealous. She can’t be, anymore. She should be happy, for her best friend to fancy such a perfect partner like Sol B.

Even if it meant that her feelings were not returned, she didn't mind.

Because his happiness and smile was enough for her.

-----

Sol did her best to squash those toxic feelings. She reminded herself that her roomie was in love with her best friend, and her best friend felt the same. She avoided every moment she was caught between them and always scooted away when Joon Hwi wanted to sit with her. She gave lame excuses (”I want to sit with Yeseul”, “Yebeom needs to help me with a case”), but her feelings only bubbled up stronger inside.

She witnessed as her cold faced roomie soften in her speech when talking to Joon Hwi, the way her eyes softened when he would explain something to her, the way he gave the exact same smile to her when he witnesses her finally figuring things on her own. Or the eyes that he gives when he devours his ramyeon while Sol eats her extra pickles with equal fervour.

If Sol was being honest and straightforward, she wanted to take out her anger on Joon Hwi. For leading her on to believing that he liked her. For being so flirty with her that even BokGi wanted to join in on the teasing. For playing her into this game, only to leave her hanging and lost and completely blindsided by his feelings.

But no, she couldn’t. She knew it wasn’t his fault. She blamed herself, for letting herself be lead by him. She blamed herself for falling for him, instead of focussing on her studies. She was always more rash and emotional.

It was her decision to fall for his charms, not his.

She can’t bring herself to blame him, knowing that Joon Hwi was always like this. Mumbling with low spirits, she sunk lower into her chair in the empty study room. She purposely didn’t want to tell anyone that she would be studying in the study room, in hopes that she could be alone. Heading back to her dorm was not an option, since her roomie’s presence would made her so guilty.

“Why the long sigh, sunbae?” She freezes at the nickname. Internally, a part of her lights up, recognising the voice, but even more the nickname that was said. As quickly as it came, it dissipated as she finally registered who it was, and her guilt ridden feelings came right back up.

Joon Hwi walked in, with his bag slung over, his signature smirk on his face. Pulling a chair, he scooted it over nearer to Sol. Peering over her book, he leaned closer and grabbed the pen she was holding.

“Ooh, criminal codes. Are you having trouble?” He asks, leaning closer to her.

Sol was so glad he was not looking at her. His body was so near hers, that she could smell the fresh cologne he wore, and the slight musk of sweat from a whole day of work. She couldn’t stay here any longer, while having a knot in her stomach. Leaping from her chair, she gathered her books, nearly scaring Joon Hwi and she quickly packed her things.

“I... I just remembered that I needed to meet Yeseul for something!” She blurts out, before running out the room.

She ran up to where the lecture halls were at, before going back down and escape to a part of their campus garden. She always took the same spot, a hidden corner hidden away by a tree that even Joon Hwi isn’t aware of. She frequented that area many times, when she was still insecure about making friends and found it particularly comforting.

“This is no good, I can’t run off every time I see him.” She mumbles to herself. She knew she was right. She knew Joon Hwi was smart to catch on about her not attending classes as usual with her seat next to him. Even though she still showed up for study group, she knew that he could sense the change in her mood.

She needed a plan, and she needed it ASAP.

-----

A week passed after her awkward encounter. Sol had gotten used to the twisted feeling in her stomach. After a week of debating in her head, she formulated her plan to get her feelings over and done with.

She was going to have her roommate and Joon Hwi date.

Sol had figured that if there’s anything she does best, it’s to disappoint herself. Instead of losing face to her best friend and confessing to him about how she felt, she much rather have her feelings crushed instead. Because she knows that he will probably debate on who to choose and she couldn’t let him be the decision maker. He doesn't need to make such a difficult decision.

Besides, Sol knew her roomie’s situation. With an overbearing and controlling mother, the least she could do to make her happy was to have the man she crushed on. He could at least help her in her studies, benefitting her mother’s dreams of being a judge one day and have him by her side forever.

Sol knew the date was going to go well. Sol B had the hugest crush, Joon Hwi would have might as well admitted to her that he had feelings for her in front of the whole court room. All they were missing were private moments alone, without their textbooks and no mentions of school. Oh, and maybe a few glasses of wine and a fancy restaurant in town.

And so Sol found herself in the study room alone again, thinking about how to tell Joon Hwi about setting up a date between Sol B.

Apparently, fate meant for it to happen now.

Because Joon Hwi strode in, a familiar smile on his face, in his hoodie.

“Stuck again?” Joon Hwi says, nodding to her books on the table. She contemplates going into small talk and saying yes, but pushes her thoughts aside. No, she needed this out of her system.

“Joon Hwi, how would you like to go on a date with Sol B?” She blurts out, literally making her point across. Joon Hwi is stunned for a moment, as he sets his bag on the table, leaning on a chair.

“Well...what makes you think I would enjoy it?” Joon Hwi stutters back, clearly stunned.

“Oh, I mean, well, you know how Sol B likes you, don’t you? And I think it’ll be nice for you to go on a date with her. You know get to know my roomie more.” Sol replies as casually as she can. A part of her hopes he says no, that he rather spends his time doing anything else.

But instead, he just shrugs and nods.

And her heart drops, shattering like glass into a thousand pieces. She maintains her bright smile on her face, and even gives a convincing laugh. Sol sits through the next ten minutes of her telling Joon Hwi when she’s free tomorrow and promising she won’t tell anyone, not even Yeseul.

As best as she can, she excuses herself from him, hoping her voice isn’t shaky when she says “I hope you enjoy your date!” as she walks away. Her steps are shaky and she feels lightheaded. She doesn't notice how her eyes are teary, the same way they get when she cuts onions.

Rushing to the washroom nearest to the garden, she locks herself in a cubicle and takes deep silent breaths. She concentrates on breathing and tries brainwashing herself. Come on, Sol, you can’t be upset for him. You should be happy! Joon Hwi is going on a date! And he’s going with the best girl you know! Why are you upset? She repeatedly chants this in her head, holding in her tears as best she can.

But it unfortunately isn’t enough when she finally cracks, letting the pent up sadness explode from it’s cage, her tears streaming down. She prays the bathroom is empty when she wails and sobs, crumbling to the floor in a heap of tears as she can’t help but get the image of her crush and roommate holding hands and kissing.

For once in her life, she has never felt so hurt, but she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for putting herself in this situation. She landed herself in this ditch, and now she has to deal with the fact that her crush, her best friend, will be dating her roommate.

Composing herself, she wipes her tears dry and washes her splotchy face. She rejects Yeseul’s offer for dinner, resorting to spending her night at the campus garden away in her hiding spot. She’s cold, but it’s nowhere near the numbness she feels in her heart deep down. When it gets too cold at 2am, she sneaks back into campus and goes to the long sofas in front of the Lady of Justice statue.

She sits there staring into space for a long while, before carrying her bag to the, now empty and deserted, study room, where she crouches to the corner of the room. She’s reminded of the moments where he would sit with her so close, their shoulders brushed each other and their fingers always fumbled around for stationary. Everything reminds her of him, and she falls asleep, huddled in a corner, just as the rare rays of sun start to emerge.

She wanted him, but he wasn't hers anymore.

-----

“Sol. Sol, get up.” She hears a familiar voice say. Having slept for less than six hours, she’s groggy and rubs her eyes. Her back hurts from being hunched over, and her joints are sore and stiff. Her vision comes to focus as she comes face to face with Joon Hwi.

“Ah!” She yelps out, startled by his presence and retreats back, only banging her head against the metal cabinets instead. She winces and rubs her head, soothing her pain. Joon Hwi sighs and holds out his hand. She swats his hand away.

“Why are you here?” Sol asks Joon Hwi. Joon Hwi holds a serious expression as he steps back to let Sol stand on her own.

“I take back what I said yesterday.” He says suddenly.

“Huh?”

“I’m not going on a date with Sol B anymore. I don’t want to.” He blurts out. Sol takes a moment to register his words. Immediately, anger floods in. She can’t tell if it’s residual anger from being mad at him for playing her, or anger on behalf of her roommate.

“What? What do you mean? But Sol B likes you so much! You should at least give her a chance!” Sol argues back, making her way to the other side of the table at the same time, dumping her bag there. She’s proper angry now, letting her emotions take charge of her actions. Her eyes are frustrated and her face frowns. Joon Hwi stops her and grabs her wrist, stopping her from moving away from him and pulls her back to the same side of the table that he is.

“I don’t like her. And I don’t think I ever will.” He admits. Sol is breathless, taking in all this new information. But during the court, it was so clear that it was her roommate. She can’t do it, having Joon Hwi so close to her, wanting to be with him, yet getting told that he harbours no feelings for Sol B. The tension she felt was driving her crazy.

“But...” Her speech comes out breathless, almost suffocated out of anger and frustration.

“Sol.” His voice is an octave lower, as he leans towards her, his face closing the distance. “Listen to me.”

“It’s you. It has always been you. From the beginning, it was always you.”

Sol lets out a breath, almost suffocating from the tension.

It...it was her?

All this while...?

“I thought... I thought...” She hates how her voice is so full of breath. She’s leaning against the table, and his hands have shifted from her wrist to the side of the table, trapping her.“I thought you liked her. I thought this entire while, she was the one you liked.”

“Maybe this will make you trust me.”

And he presses his mouth against hers.

Sol’s startled, not used to Joon Hwi being so dominating. But his soft lips against hers distract her. She removes her hands from the table, bringing them up to his hang around his neck. His hands slowly make their way to her waist as they move in sync. When they finally part, Sol’s face is blushed bright red. She feels his hot breath against her face.

“Believe me now, sunbae?”

-----

bonus:

Sol B tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ears when she stops in her tracks to meet Joon Hwi.

“Hey, um, can we talk?” He asks awkwardly. She doesn’t know why she feels so calm, knowing that she should be feeling butterflies for having her crush talk to her. Nodding, they head to a spot until the staircases.

“I don’t know how to put it...” Sol B realises where this conversation is going. In fact, she has been waiting for this day, ever since Yeseul’s court hearing. She knows what he’s going to say before he even says it.

“You don’t like me, you like Sol A, right?” She completes his sentence. Joon Hwi fumbles in his speech and finds ways to defend himself quickly. But Sol B is quick to cut him off.

“It’s okay.” She says, the closest thing to a satisfied face she can make on her face. “I fully support you.”

“You’re... you’re not sad? Or angry?” Joon Hwi is cautious with his questions. Sol gives a slight scoff. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what begin her crush for him, to begin with. She can’t remember if it was the way he answered questions, or the time he helped her put on her glasses. All she knows is that he didn’t like her, and she felt peace with that.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. Your smile and your eyes are enough to prove it. Besides, that's who you were talking about in court, wasn’t it? You wanted to protect her.” She asks. He nods, eyes unable to meet hers.

When Sol B went to bed the night before, she noticed that her roomie was nowhere. Assuming that she was out studying, she went to bed. But when she woke up the next morning, Sol B found her bed still the same state as last night. It was obvious she didn’t return to the dorm.

“She didn't come back last night.” Sol B says and Joon Hwi’s eyes widen in panic.

“What?”

“Check the study room. She might just be studying there.”

“Okay.” He says and turns around. But he turns around once more before jogging away.

“Thank you, for everything.”

Sol B gives a suppressed smile as she watches Joon Hwi get further and further from him. She tries all she can to find anger, jealousy, sadness, brokenness, denial.

But yet, all she feels is calming peace.

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eclectickss · 3 years

Text

PGATW Part 1

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x OC (fem!reader)

Summary: The avengers take a vacation to a private island rental off of the Georgia coast! You now have an opportunity to spend time with your new family, especially Wanda and Natasha.

Word Count: 2.5K

Check out my main post for links to the rest of the parts.

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

"Hey Jarvis, call everyone in for a team meeting." Tony says as he walks into the main common area with Pepper right behind him. His fresh appearance made the ginger smile, but she was a little worried for the conversation that Tony was about to have with everyone.

"Do you really think that this is a good idea, Tony? I mean everyone just returned from the month long Sokovia Reconstruction Project. Don't you think they need to rest a little before you throw this on them?" She sighed as she sat down on the couch, Tony following suit with a drink in hand.

"I think this will be the perfect way to relax, plus it will help the new kid get a chance to bond with everyone without anything getting in her way." He paused, sipping his beverage. "I know this might not interest everyone immediately, but I think a little vacation time is just what the team needs." He responded with thin lips and Pepper took a deep breath.

"Okay. I trust you." She smiles and leans on him, a pause entering the conversation. Tony looked at her.

"Did you not trust me before?" He mocked and she giggled.

"At least if the team doesn't want to go on a vacation, much less relax, I really hope you're right in assuming that it will help Talia fit in." She sighed.

"Didn't you just say that you trusted me?" He messes with Pepper again, starting to hear voices down the hall.

"Oh my Gods. Shut up, here they come." She sits up as the rest of the team enters the common area.

Bruce enters first with Clint who now has a fresh bandage on his upper arm, the two of them arriving from the med bay apparently. Thor, Steve and Pietro also enter, followed by Natasha and Wanda, who were whispering about something before sitting down with everyone else. The last two people needed were You and Peter, but y'all were nowhere to be seen.

"Alright, where are the kids?" Tony sarcastically rolled his eyes in await for a response from someone.

"Their not kids, Tony. Peter is, what... 20? and Talia is 26?" Steve chimes in.

"They're kids, Steve." Tony replied.

Natasha and Wanda locked eyes.

"26 is not a kid, Tony." Pietro looks confused, searching for reactions from anyone else.

"I agree with my brother." Wanda slightly smiles, but for her own reasons other than pissing off Tony. People murmured in agreement.

Tony breathes to retort, but all of a sudden, two voices are heard in the hall, yours included.

"IM GONNA BEAT YOU!"

"NO YOU'RE NOT, WEB KID." You shout back.

Tony raises an eyebrow as you accuse Peter of being a "kid", but everyone has turned their attention to the hallway to see what is about to come out of it. The next thing everyone registers is a spider string grabbing onto the cement post behind the couch and Peter practically flying into the room.

You leaped at his feet to stop him, but you were too late, and instead fell over the couch onto Nat and Wanda. Unintentionally, of course.

"HAHA TALIA! I BEAT YOU! I WON." You collected your breath before yelling back.

"YOU DIPSHIT! YOU CHEATED! YOU SAID NO POWERS." You slowly picked yourself up off of the two women, fully aware of the slightly awkward situation you were in at the moment. Too focused on Peter, you failed to notice Natasha and Wanda locking eyes and blushing, but you know you certainly were. Perhaps the red cheeks passed as exhaustion from sprinting down the hall.

"I DIDN'T USE POWERS, TAL!" He held out his wrists. "See!" You locked eyes. "Technology." Peter tapped his web shooters pridefully and sat down on the couch where you were standing. "Plus, I said no powers because you can literally teleport." He finished.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes and looked for a new spot on the couch, only seeing a small gap at Nat and Wanda's thighs.

That's funny. That wasn't there before.

You blushed before taking your seat.

"You were right, Tony." Wanda started on your right, looking straight into your eyes, making you silently squirm. "They're absolute kids."

Your eyes widened at the comment, and although you knew it was true, you mockingly slapped her thigh, not at all missing the deep shade of red that her cheeks turned. She has a girlfriend who is on the opposite side of me. Why did I think that would be a good idea? If only you knew that Natasha's cheeks were impossibly red too.

"Ouch, Wanda. That hurt my feelings." You sighed, sinking into the cushions behind you.

"Adults don't run in the halls, Talia."

Your stomach turned as your name rolled off of her accent.

"K-Kids don't run in the halls either. They're not allowed to." You mustered up a terrible comeback, noticing Peter's grin across from you, attempting not to break. He was the only one who knew about your little crush on Nat and Wanda, so his reaction was even more taunting.

At your remark though, Natasha placed her hand on your thigh and pushed it down to your knee, leaning to whisper in your ear.

You could practically feel her lips against your skin as you were silently panicking at the nearly non existent space between the two of you. "Disobedient ones do," She whispered.

And that shut you up real quick, you're whole face experiencing a new shade and eyes a new size. You missed the wink Nat shared with Wanda, and even the first parts of Tony's conversation went a little over your head.

"Alright, team, So I was thinking,"

"That's rare." Clint quipped, Tony glaring at him.

"I was thinking... that since we just had an amazing and fruitful month long mission in Sokovia, that you all would be in need of some vacation time." He started and people perked up.

"You mean like getting time off?" Steve asked.

"No." Now the team looked confused. "Since Talia is a recent addition, and Peter is... relatively new as well... i was thinking we could take a group trip to the beach!" He added a little excitement to the end of his sentence, but he was the only one who really shared that sentiment.

Banner tilted his head. "We don't really do that kinda stuff, Tony." He grumbled.

"Well, why not start? We could use some bonding time, and we're a family, right? This is what families do! C'mon! Ittl be fun."

"Sounds fun to me?" You chimed in, excited to have an opportunity to spend some time with everyone without being in imminent danger. Everyone looked at you. "I don't know too much about this group dynamic yet, since all i've done with the Avengers yet is reconstruction projects in Sokovia, but when I work in a team, I like to know who i'm working with." You paused. "Plus a beach. Relaxing. Movie nights, surfs, and crabs." You saw one or two eyebrows raise. "Who doesn't like crabs." You now sat in awkward silence.

"Talia is right!" Tony started again. "It will just be for two weeks, and I already rented the island. You're doing it."

"YOU RENTED AN ISLAND???" Peter jumped up.

"Yeah Kid, go pack your shit. Be here at 8 in the morning." Tony softly smiled and watched as he ran down the hall to the elevators.

"THERES ONLY ONE WASHING MACHINE SO PACK ENOUGH!"

"OK, MR. STARK!"

"AND TELL AUNT MAY I SAID HELLO!"

"GOODNIGHT, MR. STARK!"

The conversation returned to silence.

"Ok, you saw the kid. Get to packing!" Tony smiled, and you were happy. This was your first shot at family, so you didn't want to fuck it up.

It was also your chance to be close with Natasha and Wanda, and even though they were dating, you had appreciated their friendship during the SRP (Sokovia Rebuilding Project) and you didn't want it to come to an end. Your crush might be pointless, but that doesn't stop you from wanting to be around them. Hopefully you will get over it soon.

Later that night in the tower, Natasha and Wanda were having their own thoughts about you.

"What do you think, honey? Now is the perfect time to ask Talia." Wanda made another trip from the closet to her suitcase while Natasha sat on the bed and watched her pack.

"Yeah, she's just a little new and I don't wanna scare her off."

"Well look at the three of us in Sokovia. If she isn't scared off now by an assassin and powerful witch, then what else is there to be scared of?" Wanda pushed out a half- hearted laugh.

"No, I guess you're right. We found someone that we feel completes us, right? We have to chase that feeling." Natasha smiled and Wanda sat down next to her.

"Exactly. And if she says no, we never bring it up again."

"Of course." She paused. You did see her blush today though, no?" This made Wanda smile.

"She's so cute, Nat. She was so flustered." The witch paused. "What did you say to her that made her shut up completely? It turned me on, watching her react like that." She slowly kissed Natasha's neck.

"Well, she had said 'Kids don't run in the halls. They're not allowed to.'," Wanda nodded, remembering the comment. "I told her that the disobedient ones do.'" The girls blushed, Nat at the memory and Wanda at the image.

"So she liked that? Imagine calling her 'good girl', Natasha. Imagine telling her to behave and punishing her when she doesn't."

"God, Wanda, don't even get me started." The spy almost moaned as her girlfriend slowly straddled her.

"We can edge her endlessly and make her beg." Wanda's hips rolled as her lips found a spot on Natasha's collar bone. "You can make her cum so many times while I eat you out too."

Natasha was in bliss, not wanting to stop, even though they should. "Let's go ask her first before letting go of our imaginations, honey. We can finish this later too."

"You have a point." Wanda sighed and rested her head on Natasha's shoulder. "Let's go."

Meanwhile, you were looking through your closet for swimsuits, which was still a little bit of a mess since you just moved in. Finally, you found the box with the suits, and not so gracefully, you placed it on your bed. As you began to sort out the tops from the bottoms and the sets from the one-pieces, you heard a knock at your door.

You turned your music down and opened the door to find the two women who filled your daydreams, leaving you momentarily speechless. Quickly snapping out of it though, you almost stumbled through your words.

"Hey Tasha, Wanda, what's up?" You acted like their presence was nothing, turning around and continuing to sort out your swim wear. You managed to toss a yellow suit back into the box and a white one into the case before they said anything.

"Is it alright if we come in?" Wanda asked. You blushed, realizing you never invited them inside.

"Of course! Sorry if you find my room a little messy, but i'm still moving in." You pushed a collection of clothes off of the end of the bed. "You may sit if you like, though." You swallowed as the two of them took you up on your offer. Natasha and Wanda are both on my bed. It's cool....

"So what can I do for you?" You continued your packing, now holding up a red bikini in the mirror before tossing it back into the box. Natasha and Wanda shared a look.

"We actually have an odd question to ask you, Talia." The Sokovian started. "A proposal, if you will." This now got your full attention, and you pull over your desk stool to sit in front of them. "As you know Natasha and I love each other very much." You begin to worry, thinking that they felt uncomfortable around you or that your crush was too obvious. Natasha picked up the conversation.

"The two of us have loved each other for a long time, and it will continue to be like this, Talia. Nothing is faulty in our relationship. We have health communication tactics and we know how to handle the other when something is wrong." You were a little confused now, and not as much worried, so you continued listening. "Something that has always been a part of our relationship, though, is the knowledge and idea that we might be in search of someone else. Another piece to our puzzle, if you will." Your heart was racing now, the conversation switching back to Wanda.

"We are asking you if you would like to join our relationship, Talia." You shivered at the accent again, but you couldn't process thoughts anymore. The two exact women that you only thought you would dream about are now in front of you, asking you to be with them. You with them. Natasha and Wanda. "If you say no, you can forget this ever happened and we will never mention it again."

They awaited any response from you.

"And if I say yes?" You almost whispered, Natasha and Wanda's hearts beating loud, but maybe not as much as yours.

"This vacation would be our trial and error. You can test the waters. Play your part. You tell us whenever you're uncomfortable or are having second thoughts and no questions asked, that's it. We just really like you and wanted to offer you a spot with us."

"And this isn't a joke?" You spoke softly, your thoughts and heart going a mile a minute. This is really happening. My crushes are telling me that they want me. Me? They both shake their head, and you stare in disbelief.

"This is real, Talia." Nat nearly whispers. "Entirely real."

Your own thoughts betray you as you stand up and slowly walk over to the two women.

You tried to think about what you wanted to say, but took the risk to stop thinking before you speak. "I have been seriously crushing on the both of you for a while now, and treating you like the kind of opportunity that I only get in my rarest dreams. I've been staring at you and imagining things that go way beyond the boundaries of friends...." Their breaths hitched. "so I swear if you are fucking with me-" Your breath is heavy and hot now as the three of you are inches away.

"We're not fucking with you, Talia." Wanda whispers. "We just want to fuck you."

#wanda maximoff #natasha x wanda #wanda x natasha x reader #natasha x wanda x reader #wanda x natasha #wanda x you #wanda x reader #natasha x oc #wanda x oc #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natahsa romanoff #gxgxg smut #gxgxg #marvelfanfic #marvel gxgxg #marvel smut

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shelby-love · 3 years

Text

FRED WEASLEY

Yule Ball Problems

Requested: yes (by anonymous)

Prompts: none

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Author’s note: I really like this request especially since the fourth movie is one of my favs, so thank you for requesting it! Just like George's one shot, this will be heavily inspired by the movie (I'm essentially putting the reader into the movie). Before proceeding, I highly recommend rewatching these scenes lol!

Gryffindor practice for the Yule Ball

Fred asks Angelina to the ball (obviously we're pretending it's George who asks her <3)

It was fairly rare to have the Gryffindors sit together in a room mastered by the head teacher. Nevertheless, the entirety of Gordic Gryffindor's current house members has gathered in the spacious room, a million things running through their minds.

McGonagall looked fierce as she appropriated the room like something very serious was going to happen.

Your thoughts seemed to be correct as she whisked her wand in the air, pulling you away from your boyfriend to stand on a completely different side of the room.

You frowned, Fred did too. He was just about to swoop in and kiss you.

"D-did she just?" You asked puzzledly, not quite believing your luck. A couple from seventh year were eating each other's faces in the corner, but she picked you and Fred instead?!

"Yeah," Hermione mused, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I think she did."

Fiercely blushing, you sat back down. "I cannot believe my luck."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. She herself has been appointed to stand with the girls on the other side, leaving her two best friends to themselves and the boys.

"This is the sixth time she has caught us," you told her, catching Minerva's eyes in that exact moment. You wouldn't be surprised if the woman heard you; she is a cat most of the time, and cats have significantly better hearing than humans do.

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of the-" Professor McGonagall attempted although her words were cut by Flinch as he plotted around the huge record player. "-Triwizard Tournament since its inception."

She shared nothing new.

So, what is she on about?

You glanced at your boyfriend, knowing which one out of the two he is immediately. Fred laughed with his twin about Merlin knows what, picking at Ron in the process. You shook your head, focusing your attention back to your head teacher.

"On Christmas Eve night," she continued, slowly walking in a straight line across the floor. "we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

Ginny leaned her head against her shoulder, getting bored. You smiled at the act, deciding to share her enthusiasm by mimicking it.

After a while of being stuck in a singular position you had decided to place your chin on the top of her head instead.

"As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule ball is first and foremost..." The dreaded sentence was coming. You could see it in her facial expression. "A dance."

Ginny's head flew up suddenly, banging against yours so hard you had to hold your jaw in pain. "Oh Y/N, I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, palpably petrified with what she has done to her older brother's girlfriend.

"No, no," you waved your hand, testing your jaw by moving it in circular motions. "It's alright Ginny."

"But what if it gives you a bruise?" She asked frightened. "The ball is just around the corner!"

Your eyes widened at that and before you could soothe the girl, Hermione had butted in. "She'll be fine Ginny. Besides, Fred is so smitten by her he genuinely won't care."

"True," you added in agreement, holding your chin after wrapping your free hand around the smaller girl to cheer her up. Ginny calmed down and returned to her bright, usual self soon after.

The quick accident helped you better ignore the agonizing groans of the boys that generously outmatched the giggling. While most of the girls, including yourself, enjoyed the aspect of dancing with a gentleman, the boys didn't like the thought of becoming one so much.

You searched for Fred's eyes the second you could, finding him already looking at you from afar. He was quick in mouthing an 'Are you okay?' and pointing to his own jaw for better explanation.

You nodded but still mouthed an 'ow' for dramatics sake.

Fred knew his little sister's strength, but he also knew your pain tolerance and that made him less concerned. Fred then sent you a wink accompanied by a wicked grin of excitement. Being a couple played in your favor excellently.

Most of the girls feared being partnerless at the ball, so you felt very content with yourself. You secured yourself both an escort and a dance partner by just loving a boy that was able to be serious if you ever asked him to be.

"Silence!" McGonagall raised both her hands in the air, "The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard word for nearly 10 centuries."

She then continued, "I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons."

"Babbling what now?" You asked in amazement. She was very creative with her words; you give her that.

From the corner of your eye you saw your boyfriend monkeying around with his brother, staying true to his teasing nature by making fun of McGonagall's words.

"Now. To dance is to let the body..." She took a deep breath as she said that, "...breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight."

Fred's younger brother, Ron, decided to take that inspirational moment to comment about Eloise Midgen, a girl that was sitting very close to you, Hermione and Ginny. You shook your head, not liking his comment at all.

McGonagall heard it but finished her sentence nevertheless, saying something about boys having a lion inside of them. "Mr. Weasley."

Ron looked at her through a fringe of red hair, "Yes..."

"Would you join me, please." She was already by his side as she said that.

"I'd dance with that woman anytime." A girl from your year mumbled, creating quite big hysterics of agreement among the girls. You started to laugh, Ron's face and the girls' comments becoming too much for you to handle.

Ron on the other hand sat awkwardly and glanced around the room in which his housemates were all eagerly waiting for his slip, panicked beyond comprehension. Even Harry who had his arm bandaged due to being an actual contestant in the Tournament, eagerly pushed him up with his healthy one.

McGonagall had Ron in her vise hold. The poor boy couldn't go anywhere without making a complete fool of himself. The music started to play, and Fred and George were loving the sight in front of them as they kept throwing in whistles and remarks that made everyone smile. A years' worth of teasing material had just appeared without them doing so much as moving a finger to make it happen.

On the other side of the room, you weren't breathing. Literal tears formed in your eyes when Ginny made a joke on Ron's account.

"Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!"

You had coughed up your laughter immediately, although the giggles seemed to be a permanent thing. You stood to your feet and dashed across the room for Fred after hearing a fifth year tell her friend how she was going to ask him to partner up.

You leaped into his arms, relieved to have snatched him before anyone else could.

"Woah there, love," Fred mused, placing his hand on your waist like Professor McGonagall had instructed. While teasing his younger brother, Fred managed to pick up the essential parts of the dance because he didn't want to tramp all over your feet and have to carry you to Madam Pomfrey. "Thought I'd leave you hanging?"

Although Fred didn't mind hoisting you up into a princess-carry and acting out a heroic save, he was, quite frankly terrified of the wrath you would unleash on him if he was the reason you wouldn't be able to wear your heels to the ball.

"Actually," your laughter broke down as you two started to dance in steady pace around the room. "I didn't want you to partner up with someone else."

Genuine confusion crossed his features after that, "Come again?"

"I heard several girls talk about how they're going to ask you partner up with them," you mumbled just as the tune changed and he swiftly helped you twirl before pulling you back so you were flush against his chest. "Are you sure they weren't talking about George? He actually-"

"Is your name Fred?" You cut him off.

"Yeah..."

You gave him a look that said well-there-you-go.

"If it makes you feel any better," Fred whispered, voice raspy as he gripped your waist and pulled you against him as if you weren't already glued together before. His mouth slowly found its way to your neck and you shivered under the proximity. "I only have eyes for you."

You didn't get to enjoy the moment as you heard Ron scream, his lust for sibling revenge overtaking. "Professor, Fred and Y/N are snogging! It's kind of disgusting, actually!"

"Mr. Weasley! Miss Y/LN!"

"Not again!" Fred and you said simultaneously.

***

You sat in between Fred and Neville in the great hall, working mostly with Fred on an essay Snape had assigned for you during this study session. You talked quietly with Neville while at it too, sharing deep compassion as you helped answer some questions he had for you about Herbology, keeping professor Sprout out of your mouth as much as possible. You didn't want Snape to find out you were talking about a subject that wasn't his.

Ron's muttering was very much loud as he kept going on about how depressed he was. "Well maybe you should just get yourself a girlfriend then. Like me." Fred whispered proudly, eyeing Snape who was walking around the hall like a soldier.

You mimicked Fred's smirk and turned to Ron, "It's not as easy as it looks."

"Getting a girlfriend, you mean?" Ron said, his face falling into an ever deeper frown when you nodded. "Bloody hell... How is that supposed to help?"

"It isn't," you told him. "Fred's just speaking nonsense. Don't listen to him."

Your boyfriend just grinned, slinging his arm over your shoulder but taking it off as soon as Snape glared at it. You swallowed a bubble of laughter that threatened to slip past your lips.

Out of the blue, George scribbled something on a piece of paper, folding it and throwing it at Ron, apparently not trusting his voice to say whatever he wanted to out loud.

You watched as Ron read it through, turning to your boyfriend, the quill in your hand now long forgotten. "What did George write?"

"Get a move on or all the good ones will have gone." Fred whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as proof to you that he took no part in that message.

"Good ones..." you muttered mockingly. "Pig."

Fred laughed, stuffing his mouth into the sleeve of his shirt to muffle it. He then turned to his brother and told him what you thought of his message. George leaned behind Fred to scowl at you carefully, so Snape doesn't see.

You both stuck out your tongues to each other like kids at the same time and while you returned straight to work, the younger twin continued to converse with Ron. Eventually George threw a paper ball at Angelina and you watched as the paper ball flew past your eyes, missing you by a millimeter. George had made a good shot as the paper ball bounced off Angelina's body. It urged her to look at George as he acted out the question, "You want to go to the ball with me?"

Angelina nodded, surprising you.

"Seriously?" You asked your close friend.

"What?" She shrugged, "He's cute."

Your raised brow catched Angelina off guard. "And funny..."

"As long as you don't mistake him for Fred," You whispered, "I support it."

Fred chuckled next to you.

"I won't be going alone because believe it or not someone asked me!" Hermione exclaimed, most likely because of Ron. You weren't paying attention to either of them, only starting to do so when Hermione stormed across the hall to Snape and handed him her finished assignment. She turned to grab her things whilst putting Ron in his place. "And I said yes!"

"Please don't tell me Ron asked her to the ball as a last resort," You sighed once Hermione disappeared behind the doors.

"I'm afraid he did, love," Fred answered.

You shook your head at Ron in disappointment, "Fred, did I ever tell you how much I'm grateful for you?"

Fred's smile intensified as he shook his head. "No, I don't think you did."

For that, you listened to your gut and grabbed him by his red Gryffindor tie, pulling him to you until your lips connected. Unfortunately, the kiss lasted for only a second due to Snape crawling around the place like the snake he is, but the brief kiss still left you breathless. Left you wanting more. "Want to get out of here?"

"Mhmm," you said with an eager nod of your head. Your brain was mushed and you only had time to whisper to Neville where he could find the answers about the Bouncing Bulb he's been desperate to find more about before Fred pulled you to your feet and grabbed both your stuff. In return, you collected both Fred and yours assignment and stuffed them into Snape's arms. "Have a lovely day, Professor."

"As I said Ron," Fred said smiling, glancing at you and Snape. "Better go get yourself a girlfriend…before the good ones are taken."

"I think the bloody best one is taken already," Ron mumbled with a pout, every male close to him responding in agreement.

Fred winked at them all, a winning smirk plastered on his face as he grabbed your hand and eagerly pulled you outside to do whatever your hearts desired in that moment.

MASTERLIST

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

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(I love all of your writings) one of Scout's voice lines literally broke my heart. The one in the Birthday mode which said that no one came to his birthday :"((( the fact that he called everyone his best friends make it sadder. Can you write about that a little bit. I know that you have written about his birthday before but can you do one more pleaseeeeeee

birthday boy time

(warnings for alcohol mention, mention of violence, and injury)

“Happy birthday, lad,” Demo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Scout lit up, calling back a greeting in return.

Call him a sap, but he hadn’t quite given up on having fun birthdays yet. He’d heard it a hundred times from most of the rest of the team, that you stop focusing so much on your birthday when you get older, but not this guy. Scout was determined to actually have a nice birthday.

That being said, he knew by then, after those first few years working with the team, that they had a bit of a history of not necessarily being 100% on board with doing a whole thing purely because someone was a year older, and he mostly settled for bugging some of the team into going out for drinks or ordering a bunch of pizza and playing board games, stuff like that. A hundred times more low-key than what he’d do if they were in Boston, but hey, he took what he could get, and it usually ruled anyways.

To be honest, he didn’t even really have plans that year. He’d said as much when he was asked earlier that week. It was the middle of the week, not all that close to the weekend, so going out with everyone was pretty much off the table, as was getting drunk considering they all had work the day after. He was gonna head into town and get himself a gift, that was most of his plan, maybe hang out with everyone later on too. He’d been saving his money for a while, a just-in-case fund that he’d been working on for a few years, a luxury he didn’t have growing up, and didn’t tend to spend much money on himself outside of snack food and Bonk and sometimes comic books or little things like that. It would be nice to get himself something he really liked. That alone was plenty of excitement. Not an adrenaline kind, just a regular, nice sort of thing.

Overall, he was honestly just thrilled that apparently everyone actually remembered this year, greeted all morning by similar casual “hey, happy birthday”s, including a particularly excited one from Pyro, who hugged him and spun him in a few circles outright. He had plenty of time next year to do some really sick birthday stuff, but overall, he was just gonna chill out, treat himself for once, and relax.

“Alright everyone,” the Engineer said grimly, half an hour previously, casting a look around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

The team minus their fastest member were all gathered around the debriefing table, and this time, rather than Miss Pauling with official orders or Soldier with the latest new strategy, it was the Engineer standing up front holding a piece of chalk.

“We’ve been over this, Toymaker, twice weekly all month,” Demo drawled, rolling his eye.

“I know that, but this is important,” he stressed.

“It is true,” Heavy rumbled, nodding solemnly. “This is big deal.”

“We can’t afford to let this one get mucked up considering our history,” the Engineer said firmly. “Every year it’s somethin’. This year we aren’t taking any chances, especially after that catastrophe last year.”

A groan from the team as they collectively remembered. A nod from the Engineer.

“We’re lucky Firebug was the one to ask why Scout was in the kitchen combing the cabinets and not one of us, otherwise he would’ve found out for sure. If he knew we all forgot his birthday, it would crush him,” he said emphatically. The team looked embarrassed as a whole, while Pyro looked particularly mortified. “And we can’t just buy the damn kid a few pizzas and hand him alcohol like that was the plan again this year.”

“Fortunately for all of you, I’ve been so generous as to look into a few things,” Spy piped in, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.

“As if you won’t take any excuse to snoop,” Sniper mumbled, and was glared at.

“I resent that remark,” Spy scoffed. “Regardless. I happen to know that we’re in luck, and that Scout is planning to go into town for a short period of time this afternoon. For what purpose, I’m not sure. But it should mean we have plenty of time to set everything up.”

“I trust you all have gifts ready?” Medic asked, and received a general murmur of agreement, and made a check on the paper he had attached to a clipboard. “Ja, ja, that is good. Herr Demoman, Pyro, you are done with your baking?”

“Cake is baked, iced, and decorated,” Demo nodded, Pyro giving a thumbs up of agreement.

“Soldier, how are decorations?”

“Acquired and prepared for deployment!” Soldier barked, holding up a hand in salute.

“Doc, Heavy, you two were meant to run interference,” the Engineer said, and the two nodded. “With that not a worry, how about you help with the cooking and decorating?”

“Heavy can do this,” Heavy agreed, and Medic nodded as well, jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

“And the snake was gonna help with anything that went wrong, and Sniper, you were gonna help with headed into town for anything we needed last minute,” the Engineer said, and received nods from the two of them.

“Do we need anything so far?” Sniper asked.

“No, we’re fine for now. And I’ve got my own setup handled,” the Engineer said, and nodded a few times to himself. “Alright. Sounds like we’re golden.”

“Ja, very good. Herr Spy, would you keep an eye on Scout and let the rest of us know when we can begin getting ready?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Spy said.

“Alright. Now go on, get, he’ll be wondering why we’re all running late, act natural,” the Engineer said, shooing them all from the conference room.

Later that day after battle was over, Spy dispersed news not long later that Scout had gotten changed into civvie clothes and gone into town on his bike, and they all leapt into action. Within half an hour, the decorations were ready, streamers and balloons in every direction, the table unfolded from their storage (only used when they needed to seat the entire team, which wasn’t often) and was set up with the cake, ready to have candles lit, the presents were stacked neatly, the Engineer had set up the new sound system he’d been working on (put into crunch time to have ready for the occasion), everything was set up and perfect. The only thing they still needed was Scout.

They settled in to wait, knowing town was a good twenty minutes away, thirty if he was headed to the better one. By the time he found everyone, Spy said that it had been about ten minutes, and they took around thirty to set everything up, meaning that Scout would probably be at least another ten minutes, maybe as much as half an hour. Spy would keep his eyes open and warn them when he came back, but in the meantime, they could relax while they waited.

In the meantime, Soldier and Demo attempted a few ‘finishing touches’ (putting party hats on his more docile raccoons and setting out some firecrackers and sparklers, respectively), and some of the other members of the team sat to play cards for a bit. Pyro, easily the most antsy, burned their way through the box of matches that sat waiting next to the cake one by one and started idly playing with their lighter when they ran out, occasionally lighting some of the extra candles.

Half an hour came and went. Forty minutes. Fifty. An hour.

They asked Spy if he had any word yet. The answer was no, and the visual of a few cigarette butts littered around Spy’s feet and a scowl.

The Engineer played a few song requests on the sound system. Soldier switched around party hats on the raccoons to better suit their personalities. Demo lit a sparkler and let it burn out. They switched card games.

At the two hour mark, the concern was starting to build in all of them. Maybe Scout went even further than any of them had expected. He hadn’t told any of them to wait up for him, to be fair. But he always told them outright if he wouldn’t be back for supper, and he hadn’t said anything, and should’ve been back by then. It was getting well into sundown.

“I am preparing to declare Scout as officially AWOL,” Soldier mumbled somewhere near the two/and-a-half hour mark, just a bit angrily, adjusting the party hat on Corporal Munch where it was crooked. Demo patted him on the shoulder to console him.

“He’ll get here when he gets here,” he assured, going back to fiddling with a party popper.

“Don’t waste those,” the Engineer warned. “And no queens, Go Fish.”

A groan from Medic. Demo shrugged. “We have some extra. Here, just to liven her up.”

He tugged the string on the popper, setting it off and sending a short shower of confetti onto Soldier, and that was where it all went wrong.

Corporal Munch, startled, made a little yelp-like noise and quickly clawed up Soldier’s chest, startled and attempting to escape. Soldier tried to grab on harder, but that just made the raccoon even more alarmed, and it rushed to clamor faster, digging claws in hard. Heads turned in time to see Soldier losing his grip and the animal rushing away towards the nearest enclosed, dim space, which just so happened to be the table Pyro was sitting at with the cake.

Pyro leapt up from their seat, battle instincts kicking in for a moment, and the movement startled the Corporal, who veered suddenly and crashed directly into one of the chairs, toppling it and the one directly next to it and making the entire table jerk.

Pyro, panicked, quickly grabbed the cake stand before it could fall over, dropping their lighter and the candle in their hand. The two things landed on the tablecloth, and by the time Pyro realized their mistake, they’d already lit the thin paper tablecloth on fire.

Shouting around the room as teammates attempted to leap into action, Pyro trying to save the cake from the fire first and foremost, Soldier attempting to catch the Corporal, who was only becoming more freaked out over time. Heavy moved to snatch up some of the other flammable items off of the table, but misjudged where Pyro was moving, and Pyro collided with him, the cake tumbling from the stand and directly across the both of them. The Corporal, entirely confused on the commotion, attempted to claw into the space under the cards table, making Medic yelp as his legs were torn into, Sniper rushing to try and catch the animal as well. Demo, having found the fire extinguisher, realized he was a bit late as he tried to put out the table, most of the tablecloth gone and the fire having spread across the streamers, and he tried to put out what he could, and it was only with the Engineer’s cry of dismay that he remembered, oh, right, those streamers were on top of that shiny new sound system, weren’t they. With a final puff, the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign went up in flames and was gone, and the team was left there in the wreckage.

Spy rounded the corner into the room, eyebrows furrowed from the commotion he’d heard. When he saw the smoking, foamy, cake-y remains, all he could do was sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. “Something new every year, is it?” he drawled.

It took them the better part of forty minutes to clean up the mess, and even then, the room had a weird smell to it. By the end of everything, all they had was one of the undecorated practice cakes Pyro had baked, some party hats, and some poppers. And by the time they were done cleaning up, Scout still hadn’t returned.

“At least he doesn’t have to see what a damn mess we made of things,” the Engineer sighed, and that seemed to be the consensus.

It was much later that Spy finally let them know that he’d seen the headlights of a motorcycle coming up the road, and the team just sighed, too tired to work up much energy. Some of them at least planned to call out a ‘happy birthday’ at him, but all they could do was stare when he walked into the room.

“Hey, guys,” Scout croaked, attempting a smile through a bruised lip.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sniper demanded, taking in the sight.

Scout was busted up in a number of different ways. What looked like a former bloody nose and a swollen lip seemed to be the worst of it, an amount of blood all down Scout’s front, staining what looked like one of his nicer civvie shirts beyond repair. There was also a dampness to his shirt and hair and a stain that implied he’d been splashed with something, practically drenched by the look of it, and he carried himself just slightly off-balance and held a bag in the arm not cradled to his abdomen.

Despite that, he managed a laugh, a lopsided grin. “Man, what the hell didn’t happen to me is more like it,” he said, shrugging. “Had a weird one.”

“Are you alright?” Medic demanded, already standing up, from his chair, and Scout shrugged again.

“Just bruises and all, it’s not an emergency or whatever, but I’d appreciate a heal or somethin’,” he admitted, and Medic left the room, hurrying towards the infirmary. “Forreal, though, what a fuckin’ night.”

“What’s on your shirt?” Spy asked, entirely deadpan, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Uh, I think it’s a margarita?” Scout said, glancing down at it and picking at his shirt vaguely. “I, uh, I should start from the top. Okay, so I went into town, right? I was just gonna buy some stuff real quick, and I got, uh… I got a little lost.”

“A little? Scooter, you’ve been gone all day!” the Engineer admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. There was construction on the usual road, I think they’re fixin’ a bridge or somethin’. Anyways, I got pretty far off track, but I got to town eventually. Just took a while. Anyways, I do my shopping, but because I was all rattled from havin’ to take a hundred detours I totally forget that there’s this one guy at the store that hates my guts, and I’ve gotta split pretty fast before he knocks some teeth out, y’know?”

“Do we want to know why he hates you?” Demo asked, a bit of humor in his tone.

“Nope,” Scout said simply, grinning right back. “So, yeah, but on my way into town I saw at the bar they have some kinda thing goin’ on, right, some kinda weird drink special. So I figure, hey, I’ll walk in, get the new drink, then I’ll leave, y’know? I don’t wanna have to drive home after dark and drunk. So I order, and as soon as I order some guy who’s been at the bar too long already starts tryin’ to pick a fight with me, right? And it’s a whole thing, and I finally get my drink but now there’s a whole thing, and I kinda make this offhanded comment at this gal nearby, y’know, tryin’ to make sure he knows we’re in a public place, all ‘hey, you’re really gonna embarrass yourself by pick in’ fights right in front of this real pretty girl?’, right?”

“Oh no,” Sniper sighed, already seeing where this was going.

“Well, yeah, bad luck, turns out that’s his girlfriend, and he shoves me into some guy, and I get a whole drink all over me, and mine is all over some third gut, and this whole brawl breaks out—anyways, busted lip and no drink and I’m probably not allowed in that bar anymore, but whatever, I finally start headed home.”

“Right,” Spy said, suspicious.

“And, uh, I never wanna drive at night because there’s all these animals out here, right? And the roads are shitty. And I’m headed back, and it’s dark as dicks, and I think I see this rock and I try and go around it, but then the rock moves back in my way because it’s a lizard or whatever and I hit the breaks and swerve straight into a pothole and just barely manage to keep on my bike, but I donk myself on the handlebars and totally throw my leg out of wack and all that. And, uh, and now I’m here.”

“Christ alive,” the Engineer marvelled.

“Bad day to have,” Heavy said, also stunned.

“Hey, it’ll be a funny story to tell later,” Scout shrugged, still grinning. “Got those new shoes at least, though.”

He pulled a shoebox out of the paper bag, and the box was dented into some kind of new parallelogram, barely resembling its past shape. Scout, meanwhile, was still smiling.

Silence in the room. “Well. While it is unlikely you need any more excitement today,” Spy trailed hesitantly. Pyro, understanding the cue, leapt up and hurried off into the kitchen, coming back with the cake.

“Woah, seriously?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake? Mumbles, you’re the best!”

“We, uh… we had more planned, but, some things went a little wrong,” the Engineer admitted, and trailed off as well as he looked at Scout.

“Not that we get to complain,” Demo laughed, seeming to come to the same realization as the Engineer.

“Are you joking? This rules!” Scout said, and lit up further when Medic returned with his Medigun, shaking off his injuries within a few moments. “Hey, thanks guys, seriously, no idea what I did to get such cool teammates. You guys are awesome, I mean it.”

“Dunno how we got a bloke like you, either,” Sniper shrugged, voice quiet compared to the rest of them. “Not many people can laugh after a day like yours and still have the energy to be pleased with anyone.”

“Aw, hey, I mean… y’know, it’s nothing,” Scout shrugged sheepishly, glancing away for a second. “Hey, you guys are playin’ cards? Deal me in! Oh yeah, hold on, we need plates and stuff for cake—“

He dropped his bag near the door and hurried into the kitchen. The room was quiet behind him. Demo held up a party popper, glancing around the room. The Engineer took it from him, shaking his head.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #que?#my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

∘◦ ღ ◦∘ Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine ∘◦ ღ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf.

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly.

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse.

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop.

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer.

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word.

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys.

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own.

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence.

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist.

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.”

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings.

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you.

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear.

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?”

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly.

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in.

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue.

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can.

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it.

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?”

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue.

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing.

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings.

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded.

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up.

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top.

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom.

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

#harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland #tom holland imagine #haz osterfield smut #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #Simon and mark #Tom and haz #holland boys

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ibijau · 3 years

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Lapse in memory pt 3 / on AO3

aka the fic where nhs is cursed into amnesia a few years post canon, and came to lxc for help

The worst part of Nie Huaisang’s amnesia, Lan Xichen soon decided, was the realisation that he should have seen long ago that there was something wrong with Nie Mingjue’s little brother.

Although the other man had apparently always possessed frightening self control which made it difficult to know how much his current loss of memory impacted him, he used that control in a manner very different from what he had done after the death of his brother. Instead of displaying eternal sorrow and helplessness, Nie Huaisang was acting exactly the same as he had done before his life took a turn for the worst. He smiled, and chatted with people as if things were perfectly fine, only to break down once alone with Lan Xichen, asking when this person had died, whether that remark had been a joke or a reference to a true event.

If he hadn't known better, if he hadn't been shown the other side Lan Xichen might have fallen for that new comedy as he had fallen for the old one. Nie Huaisang was good at this.

In fact, as Lan Xichen started remembering over the following days, he was good at many things.

For example Nie Huaisang was smart, it turned out. After a decade of lies, Lan Xichen had forgotten that, too used to a man who barely managed to pick his own outfits without needing three different opinions, and would make four mistakes in a two digit addition. And indeed, when it came to cultivation, or when Wei Wuxian tried to discuss his ideas about what curse might have hit him, Nie Huaisang was clearly lost. But when the topic interested him, when someone mentioned art or literature, he spoke expertly and always made excellent points.

Because he had his own duties to attend, and he aimed at being a better sect leader than he had been in the past, Lan Xichen spent little time with Nie Huaisang at first, and thus rarely enjoyed his conversation. Since the other man couldn’t be allowed to wander freely when there was still the possibility that all this was only a deception, Lan Xichen assigned one of his young disciples he trusted the most to stay with Nie Huaisang and make sure he didn’t misbehave. Almost immediately, he started hearing about the heated debates that Lan Jingyi and Nie Huaisang got into over classics, over art, over just anything that could be debated, and quite a few that shouldn’t. Lan Xichen had offered to find another person to keep Nie Huaisang company, only for Nie Huaisang to protest he was having great fun with Lan Jingyi.

It surprised Lan Xichen at first. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a man who enjoyed confrontation.

But he had once been a boy who did. Nie Mingjue used to complain at length about that, as did Lan Qiren when he’d had the dubious pleasure of teaching him. Nie Huaisang once had opinions on just about everything, especially if it could get him out of doing something he didn’t enjoy. Lan Xichen had found it amusing for a long time, and even he had been tricked into the odd argument here and there. But then there had been the war, there had been the constant worsening of Nie Mingjue’s temper, and Nie Huaisang’s tendency to argue over everything hadn’t felt so cute anymore.

After those difficult final few months, it had been a relief, in a way, when Nie Huaisang’s grief had made him so mild and pliable. He had never objected to any advice given to him, agreeing to everything and anything that Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers suggested. If Lan Xichen hadn’t been so devastated by the loss they had both suffered, perhaps he would have noticed something was wrong.

Perhaps it was guilt, then, that soon pushed Lan Xichen to rearrange his schedule so he could spend a little more time with Nie Huaisang every day. He refused to let him down again. Or perhaps it was selfishness, the joy of having an old friend back in his life, someone who didn't know about his failings, and didn't judge him for being imperfect.

"Imperfection is more fun," Nie Huaisang claimed one evening, as they sat together inside the Hanshi's courtyard, watching a pair of swallows build a nest under the rafters. "I like you better when you're not trying to be Zewu-jun. Zewu-Jun is a very boring person, while Lan Xichen is delightful company. Do you remember how we used to laugh sometimes when I came here to study? You did such a good imitation of your uncle. And you'd help me with my homeworks, and I'd let you have candies… wasn't that more fun than being perfect?"

"I miss those days," Lan Xichen admitted, something he had never told anyone except Jin Guangyao, once. He'd instantly regretted it back then, realising that Jin Guangyao had never had a chance to enjoy a carefree youth. He didn't regret telling Nie Huaisang who laughed so hard he startled the swallows, making them fly away for a moment.

"Of course you miss that! Well, I'm back now, and until I'm better I can give you a taste of how it used to be. If I make you laugh enough, you'll stop being angry at me, right?"

“I’m not angry at you,” Lan Xichen said, which to his surprise wasn’t even a lie. This young and innocent Nie Huaisang, whose biggest crime was cheating during exams, who hadn’t yet discovered his own viciousness through fighting with Nie Mingjue and then for him, who could be irritating but always remained endearing… how could Lan Xichen have been angry at him?

“But you’re angry at the man I’ve become,” Nie Huaisang said.

Lan Xichen looked at him, that handsome young man sitting just a little too close, leaning somewhat toward Lan Xichen and yet tense enough that at the first sign of anger he’d probably leap away and disappear, the way he used to do with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Xichen wondered again how he had forgotten how observant Nie Huaisang could be. He should have known. The moment Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji told him that something terrible had been done to Nie Mingjue’s body, Lan Xichen should have guessed that Nie Huaisang knew as well, and that he’d be doing anything to avenge his brother.

“I think I’m more angry at myself than at you,” Lan Xichen said. “What happened, what you’ve done, it was… Maybe you really had no choice, or you thought you had no choice anyway, and I’m not sure I have a right to judge you. You… you still don’t remember, do you?”

“No. I don’t think I want to,” Nie Huaisang said. He started playing nervously with his sleeve, having forgotten his fan somewhere, and hesitantly spoke again. “I don’t think he wanted to remember either,” he whispered. “Him. Me. I… I don’t think it was an accident, Er-ge. I think I forgot on purpose.”

Startled by the confession, Lan Xichen stared again at Nie Huaisang who avoided his eyes. He looked pale, and started shaking slightly, as if again expecting a burst of anger that didn’t come. Lan Xichen was too stunned for that.

“When did you start suspecting this?”

“Right away,” Nie Huaisang confessed, nervously playing with his sleeve, pulling and tugging at the fabric. “It was just too odd that there was nothing at all about those lost years. I found some recent correspondence which let me know I wasn’t on very good terms with you, Jiang Cheng and Jin zongzhu, but that was it. And I know myself, Er-ge. I’ve kept a journal of everything I do since I was seven. Everything important, I write it down so I remember, I should have had a trace of those missing years.”

Lan Xichen nodded. Nie Huaisang had mentioned that habit of his, back when he was studying in the Cloud Recesses. Back then he’d complained that too little happened and he had nothing to write down, but also that homework and studying took so long he almost didn’t have time for his diary. Lan Xichen hadn’t realised that the habit was such a serious one, and he’d never heard Nie Huaisang mention it again as an adult, so he hadn’t thought to ask about that.

“Could it be that you simply stopped doing this?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Huaisang shook his head and frowned.

“It’s not just a hobby. My memory isn’t great, I really forget things if I don’t write them down. Everything important… in code if it's too important, of course, I’m only a little stupid. And I hid the journal, and kept all of them, from the very first. I’m the only one who knew where they’re all kept, but when I went to check, many of them had been destroyed, or at least moved somewhere else. Everything after the Sunshot Campaign is gone. Maybe he hoped to forget the war too.”

Not so much the war as what had happened just before it, Lan Xichen thought. He’d heard about the way hostage juniors had been treated by the Wens, and the horror of the Xuanwu of Slaughter killing people in that cave. Nie Huaisang had never wanted to talk about that, Lan Xichen recalled. He usually loved to complain, but on that particular topic he’d always close off or change the subject.

Aside from the death of Nie Mingjue, the terror of the evil Xuanwu had to have been the worst moment of Nie Huaisang’s life.

Without thinking Lan Xichen took Nie Huaisang’s hand, hoping to comfort him. Nie Huaisang startled and trembled, but didn’t try to remove his hand.

“I think it’s like you said,” Nie Huaisang explained, looking pleadingly at Lan Xichen. “That he did certain things because he thought he had no choice. He… I… if someone harmed da-ge, then I’d want to harm them back," he hissed with such rage that Lan Xichen shivered, reminded of the man Nie Huaisang had indeed become. "Even if it was san-ge! I can’t believe he’d do something like that, he’s always so nice, but it doesn’t matter. If I had been sure he’d hurt da-ge, then I… I would…”

“I know,” Lan Xichen said, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I think I had regrets of a sort though,” Nie Huaisang said. “The way it seems to me… I didn’t regret that these things had been done, I didn’t regret that people had died or been hurt, but I didn’t want to live with the weight of that either. I think… I’m a little bit of a coward, Er-ge. I’m fine with knowing I did horrible things, I just don’t want to know what they are, because that way it’s not really me who did them. So I can see why I chose to forget, and I also don’t want to remember.”

Had it been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have found that person cowardly indeed. Just as he bore the guilt of his failures and strove to do better, he would expect others to face their own faults, take their punishment, and try to improve in the future. But Nie Huaisang wasn’t just anyone, and Lan Xichen pitied him too much to wish for his suffering. Nie Huaisang had already been punished enough for what he’d done, having lost his brother, having lost all his friends, having lost the respect of his sect.

Having lost himself, too.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember,” Lan Xichen said. “You can stay here with us. Wei Wuxian seems happy enough to have you around, Lan Jingyi loves having someone to argue with… even uncle said the other day that it’s been a while since he’s had a decent opponent at weiqi.”

“And what about you?” Nie Huaisang asked, his cheeks a little pinker than they ought to be. “Are you also happy to have me here?”

“I am,” Lan Xichen replied, surprised to find that this, too, was the truth.

Partly because he’d always been a little too fond of Nie Huaisang, back before the Sunshot Campaign changed everything and forced him to set aside most of his personal attachments to better serve his sect. Partly, also, because he liked this current Nie Huaisang, who wasn’t quite as naïve and self-absorbed as he’d been as a boy, but lacked the cruelty years of solitude and resentment had taught him.

This was Nie Huaisang as he would have been, had the world been a little kinder. A clever young master who watched the world around him and understood people a little too well, but loved fun too much to ever do anything with what he learned, as long as his loved ones were safe.

“I’m glad to be here as well,” Nie Huaisang said.

He shuffled a little closer until he could rest his head against Lan Xichen’s shoulder. It had been years since anyone dared to be so carelessly intimate with Lan Xichen, who found he didn’t mind. Not if it was Nie Huaisang.

“You know, I’ve talked with Wei-xiong today, about this,” Nie Huaisang continued. “About what happened to me, and why, and how. He thinks it’s a curse, and there’s probably a condition that would allow it to be lifted. There usually is, after all. But I think if I really did this to myself, I'd have picked an impossible condition, because I wouldn't want to be saved from it. So I might stay like this for the rest of my life.”

“And you’ll be welcome to stay here that entire time,” Lan Xichen promised without thinking, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand again.

“That sounds really nice. I think I’ll take you on your offer, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said with a smile that Lan Xichen would have kissed if he’d dared. Later, while lying in his bed, he would wonder if he should have tried, only to eventually decide it would have ruined the moment.

Perhaps someday, in the future, thing would take that direction. For now they both had too much to deal with, too much to learn again about each other. It was fine. Lan Xichen was content to remain like this, sitting close together, holding hands, and watching those swallows finish their nest.

Just this was already more than he’d ever imagined he would get.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #if I had a tag for that story I don't remember it #but it started as a prompt fill so I probably didn't have a tag for it lol #nhs amnesia

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